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.’
Chapter 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.
‘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