The Perfect Couple (ARC) Read online

  gone into his bank account since his final pay check from his job in London, which is as

  expected as it seems now he probably wasn’t working in Bristol, so we wouldn’t expect any

  deposits. But no money has left his account either, not since the thirty-first of January. No cash

  withdrawals, no purchases, nothing. And yet his wife says he paid for any number of things

  since he joined her in Bristol – takeaways, furniture and so on. If he wasn’t taking money from

  his bank account, where was it coming from?’

  There was silence for a moment, the assembled officers clearly thinking. Then:

  ‘Another bank account, a secret one his wife didn’t know about?’

  ‘Maybe he was working cash in hand for those three weeks? Something dodgy, off the

  books?’

  Devon nodded, acknowledging the suggestions.

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  ‘Yes, both possible. We can definitely look into the alternative bank account theory right

  now … Tara, do you want to take that on? Call around as many as you can? The current and

  savings accounts we know about are with NatWest, so try the others. Whether they’ll release

  confidential information at this stage though, I don’t know. Danny O’Connor isn’t a criminal

  – well, not as far as we know anyway – and we don’t have any evidence he’s actually in danger.

  Still, give it a go.’

  Tara nodded, her ponytail bobbing.

  Devon turned to Helena.

  ‘And that’s where we are, for now. We’re going to search the O’Connor house, this

  afternoon probably, just in case that throws up anything, and then—’

  ‘Boss!’

  The door had just opened, and a young officer was striding across the room towards them,

  an excited expression on his face.

  ‘Yes, David? What is it?’

  Devon and Helena took a simultaneous step forward.

  ‘Got something to tell you. Something very odd indeed.’ He was slightly out of breath,

  and he paused, gulping in air.

  ‘OK, go on.’ Helena moved closer.

  ‘Right. Well, we’ve been checking private CCTV footage for any sign of Danny

  O’Connor, as you know. There aren’t many cameras in the area, and nothing’s come up as yet,

  but we’re still working on it. But while we were at it, we thought we’d check out the

  neighbours, just to see if any of them had seen him cycling past every day, you know – if they

  noticed which direction he went in, help narrow it down?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Devon. ‘And?’

  David took another deep breath.

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  ‘Well, that’s the thing. We managed to speak to the people who live either side of the

  O’Connors. And they said – both lots said the same thing – well, they said something we didn’t

  expect.’

  He paused again, turning to the room and looking from one expectant face to another.

  ‘They said that as far as they were aware, they only had one new neighbour. They’ve

  never seen a man at the property, not even once. They said that, as far as they knew, Gemma

  O’Connor moved into that house alone.’

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  9

  ‘They won’t be much longer. Sorry, I know this isn’t very nice. It’s important though, you

  know? They might find something that might help find your husband.’

  The plain-clothes police officer sitting opposite me smiled, looking at me kindly with her

  dark eyes, and I nodded, slipping my hands around my coffee mug again, seeking comfort from

  its warmth. We were at my kitchen table, and through the open doorway I could hear drawers

  being opened in the lounge, heavy footsteps crossing the master bedroom upstairs, the low

  rumble of voices as the three officers who were currently searching my house conferred.

  ‘Like what?’ I asked, more out of politeness than from a real desire for information. I’d

  had enough, more than enough, unexpected and unwanted information from the police about

  my husband in recent days and if I heard much more I thought my head might actually explode.

  Earlier that morning, desperate to get out of the house which suddenly felt suffocating

  and claustrophobic, I’d finally decided to call Clare and Tai, telling them something horrible

  was going on and asking if they happened to be free for coffee. Despite it being a Tuesday

  morning, I’d been hopeful; Clare was a freelance bookkeeper, who’d told me she preferred to

  keep her mornings free and settle down to work after lunch, while Tai was a piano teacher who

  tended to only be busy from three o’clock onwards on week days, when her pupils were

  released from school. Clare had immediately invited us both to come to her place, a beautiful

  three-storey Georgian villa not far from the south end of The Downs, with a stunning view of

  the Clifton Suspension Bridge. I’d been there once before, when I’d called in to pick Clare up

  for the second yoga class I’d gone to with the pair of them, and had only seen the long, tiled

  hallway and huge, clearly recently modernized, gleaming white kitchen, but it had immediately

  struck me as being incredibly stylish and, almost definitely, worth a fortune.

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  ‘This place is AMAZING!’ I’d hissed to Tai, who’d also met us there before the walk to

  yoga, when Clare ran upstairs to grab her mat and handbag.

  ‘I know,’ she’d whispered back. ‘Her husband, Alex, has family money. Something to do

  with banking. He only works part-time too, he’s a strategy consultant, whatever that is. But

  they bought this without a mortgage. Lucky, eh?’

  ‘ Very. Wow.’

  That morning, I’d pulled on a thick sweatshirt and jeans and walked to Clare’s with

  Albert, shuddering as I approached Clifton Down, remembering what DS Clarke had told me

  about the two murder victims. I’d googled them, of course, staring with horror at their

  photographs in the news articles, seeing their unmistakable similarity to Danny. The previous

  night, I’d even dreamed about them, dreamed that I was standing, shaking and terrified, over

  the bodies of two dead men, their corpses stiff on damp grass, mist swirling around us, their

  sightless eyes fixed on my face, hands rigidly outstretched. I’d woken in a cold sweat, gasping,

  screaming Danny’s name, and had had to run to the bathroom to throw up. Their faces had

  swum across my vision again as I walked across The Downs to Clare’s, my stomach tightening

  and my footsteps quickening until I was almost jogging. Albert ran alongside me, glancing up

  at me now and again in what looked like bemusement, unused to such a rapid pace. When we

  arrived at Clare’s though his joy at seeing Winnie was unrestrained, his whole body wagging,

  little yelps of happiness escaping him, the poodle bouncing with delight too.

  Laughing, Clare opened the bifold doors at the rear of the kitchen and the two dogs

  bounded out and began chasing each other, first one way and then the other, around the walled

  garden, weaving in and out of tall ornamental grasses and red-leaved Japanese maples. I stood

  for a moment, watching them, supressing a shiver as images from my dream continued to float

  through my mind, then took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down, trying to

  concentrate on the dogs and their antics. They were so funny together. Albert had definitely

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  been subdued since Danny had vanished, and to see him so happy, so
carefree, even for a short

  while, suddenly lifted my spirits a little, a hint of a smile even playing on my lips as the dogs

  cavorted and yelped.

  ‘So, Gemma, what’s going on?’

  It was Tai, already sitting on one of the high chrome stools that surrounded the

  marble-topped kitchen island. She was wearing a denim mini-dress, perfectly shaped, toned

  legs neatly crossed at the ankles.

  ‘We’re worried. What horrible thing is going on?’

  ‘Yes, sit down, Gemma. You look pale. Here, coffee. And I’ve got cake too, if you want

  it. A Victoria sponge.’

  Clare pushed a steaming mug of coffee across the smooth marble towards me, then added

  hastily: ‘I didn’t make it. The cake I mean. My cleaner, Eleanor, dropped it off last night. She

  does that. Makes a big batch every now and again and then gives them all away. It’s delicious,

  actually.’

  She pushed a blonde curl back off her forehead and grinned. I smiled back.

  ‘I’m OK. But thanks. And as for the horrible thing that’s going on, well …’

  I took a deep breath. Should I be doing this, when I hadn’t even told my parents or

  Danny’s mother that he was missing? I was still putting off doing that, hoping against hope

  that any minute I’d hear his key in the door, but now … suddenly this seemed very real.

  ‘My husband is missing,’ I said quietly.

  I didn’t go into too many details, didn’t mention any of the weird stuff I’d discovered

  since Danny had disappeared; amidst horrified gasps, my two new friends staring at me

  wide-eyed, I simply told them that when I came back from my press trip on Friday evening my

  husband had vanished, and that the police were investigating. They bombarded me with

  questions, of course, and I answered as best I could. No, he wasn’t depressed or in any sort of

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  trouble as far as I knew. No, I had no idea where he might have gone, and no, he’d never gone

  missing before. No, he didn’t take any clothes or his passport. He was just gone, and I was

  playing a waiting game.

  ‘God, Gemma, this is just awful. I’m so sorry. I was only reading an article the other day

  about how someone’s reported missing in the UK every ninety seconds or something, it’s crazy.

  Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but we’re here for you, OK? If you need

  anything, anything at all …’

  Tai reached across and squeezed my arm, and Clare nodded fiercely.

  ‘Absolutely. Call us any time, day or night. What an awful thing to happen. I can’t even

  imagine how I’d feel, if it was Alex.’

  I left soon afterwards, feeling a little less alone, a little less numb. Their kindness had

  brought tears to my eyes, and the hugs they’d given me as we’d said goodbye had been warm

  and genuine.

  But back home, as the police officers arrived to start searching the house, I was still

  reeling from the bombshells of the previous day, shaky from another night of little sleep. It was

  all becoming too much, too impossible. Danny pretending to go to work. No money taken out

  of his bank account for weeks. Danny appearing on a dating app. And two murders. Two dead

  men. Two victims who looked so similar to my husband, and who had been using the same app

  before they died. I could no longer think in any sort of logical way, couldn’t even begin to

  process it all. What did it mean? Where was Danny? Was he dead now, too? Why had he lied

  to me about so many things? Was he sleeping around, seeing other women, or was his

  appearance on the dating site just a stupid, juvenile joke by one of his friends? But why? What

  would be the point? I just couldn’t work it out … and then there was this latest thing, the thing

  they’d told me earlier, when they’d arrived to start trawling through my cupboards. What had

  it been again, exactly? That my closest neighbours, both of them, when questioned, had said

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  they thought I’d moved in here alone? That they’d never seen or heard anything of Danny, of

  a husband, living here? I’d tried to recall the few interactions I’d had with our new neighbours,

  remembering brief ‘good mornings’, smiles and waves, little more … but had Danny really

  never been with me on any of those occasions? He must have been, surely? I didn’t know,

  couldn’t think, and I was just so tired …

  I realized with a start that the police officer sitting at my kitchen table was talking to me,

  answering my question about what sort of thing the search of my house might throw up that

  could possibly help, and I tried to drag my attention back to her.

  ‘—Not really sure until they find it, to be honest,’ she was saying. ‘Sometimes when

  someone goes missing they just walk away, but some leave evidence of plans they might have.

  And of course, we don’t even know yet what happened in your husband’s case – whether he

  left by choice or whether … well, whether something unfortunate has happened to him …’ Her

  voice tailed off and she paused for a moment, picking at a loose thread on her dark grey jacket,

  then raised her eyes to mine again. ‘I really hope that’s not the case,’ she added. ‘Sorry.’

  I opened my mouth to reply, to tell her it was fine, when two of the other officers appeared

  in the doorway. One was DC Frankie Stevens, the one who’d been here with DS Clarke, the

  other a new one, one I hadn’t met before. DC Stevens was brandishing two clear plastic bags,

  and I squinted, trying to see what was in them, my heartbeat suddenly speeding up.

  ‘We’re done, I think, Mrs O’Connor. I think we’ve left everything pretty much as we

  found it, but apologies if there’s any mess. We haven’t found anything that throws any light on

  your husband’s disappearance right now, unfortunately.’

  He waved the bags.

  ‘We’ve grabbed these though, if that’s OK? Just in case … well, in case we need Mr

  O’Connor’s DNA at any point, for elimination purposes? We assumed the green toothbrush

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  was his, the one on the left-hand side of the basin, and this comb? They were alongside the

  shaving foam and so on.’

  I leaned closer to see and nodded.

  ‘Yes, they’re Danny’s. Take them, that’s fine. So … so what happens now?’

  DC Stevens handed the two plastic bags to his colleague and nodded, and the man turned

  and headed down the hallway.

  ‘We’re going to take a quick look at your previous address, in London, just to see if there’s

  anything still there that might help. You said your husband stayed on there for a week or so

  after you moved down here? Don’t suppose you know if it was being rented out again

  immediately, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know but I don’t think so. I seem to remember our landlord saying he was going

  to give the place a fresh coat of paint first, and I know he was going away for a few weeks after

  we moved out so I doubt he’s got round to it yet. And yes, Danny stayed for a week after me.

  He had to finish working his notice at his old job and it made sense for me to come ahead, get

  the basics sorted here. He was due to start his new job pretty much as soon as he got here and

  I wanted everything to be organized so he wouldn’t have to …’ I stopped talking, remembering.

  ‘Well, that’s what I thought, at the time. What he told me.’


  Even I could hear the bitterness in my voice. I felt a sudden, unexpected flicker of anger,

  and looked from one police officer to the other, my chest tightening.

  ‘I was an idiot, wasn’t I? He lied to me about everything. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Why didn’t I notice, why didn’t I realize something was wrong?’

  There were tears in my eyes now, but DC Stevens was shaking his head. He moved a step

  closer to the table and briefly laid a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Please, don’t blame yourself, Mrs O’Connor. We’re at a very early stage of our enquiry

  here, and none of us know what’s behind all this. I mean, yes, there are certainly some … well,

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  some peculiarities. But please, try to stay calm. Sit tight. We’re going to try to get to the bottom

  of it all as soon as we possibly can, OK? Are you still here alone, or is somebody coming to be

  with you?’

  I took a deep breath and pushed a strand of hair off my forehead. I felt clammy now, my

  armpits damp. I needed to get these people out of my house, needed to be alone, needed to

  sleep, needed to think. I forced myself to look back up at him.

  ‘I saw some friends this morning, and they can be here in minutes if I need them. And my

  friend Eva’s coming to stay. She’s coming down from London for a few days. She should be

  here in an hour or so.’

  He nodded his approval.

  ‘Good. It’ll help, having some moral support. And we’ll probably have to think about

  telling your husband’s family soon too, OK, if he doesn’t turn up? And maybe you should think

  about telling yours as well. But we’ll leave that for now. Look, we’ll get out of your way.

  Thank you for being so cooperative. As I said, we’re going to go and take a look at your old

  apartment, tomorrow I hope. We’ll keep you posted, OK?’

  ‘Thank you. Thanks so much.’

  When they were gone, I moved slowly from room to room, smoothing the Indian cotton

  bedding – they’d even checked under the mattress, it seemed – straightening cushions, checking

  that the contents of wardrobes and drawers hadn’t been too badly messed up. Somehow the act

  of methodically restoring order to my home calmed me, my racing heartbeat slowing, my mind

  clearing a little. OK, so the facts around Danny’s disappearance were getting weirder by the