Allyn Allyn - Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. Vol. 135, No. 1. Whole No. 821, January 2010

The photos came out perfectly — which was just as well, because a few weeks later Derek walked out. Donna had left her husband, he told me, and they would be temporarily renting a flat until we could sell the house.

“What house?” I asked.

“This one, of course,” he snapped. “You don’t think you’ll be staying on here, do you?”

Actually I did — and so did my solicitor when he saw my collection.

Derek went mental when he discovered what I’d been doing. He always had a foul temper and now I was seeing it full force. On the solicitor’s advice, I changed the locks, but he still kept coming round, standing outside and yelling abuse. When he turned up one night and kicked the door in I phoned the police, and the following day my solicitor applied for a restraining order.

A couple of days later there was a knock on my door. Not again, I thought. But it wasn’t Derek. It was a man I’d never seem before — mid thirties, average build, fair hair already receding. He introduced himself as Donna’s husband.

He was clearly distraught, so I invited him in, and he immediately began to speculate on ways to retrieve our partners.

“What makes you think I want mine back?” I asked bluntly, and his face fell. He knew straightaway there was no point hanging around.

“They’re talking of moving to London,” he said gloomily as I saw him back out.

“They can go to the moon, for all I care,” I said, and closed the door.

Afterwards I wondered if I’d been a little harsh... but at least I’d been honest. What was the point in giving him false hope?

We never went to court. The solicitors reached an agreement whereby I kept the house in lieu of maintenance, but as I neither wanted nor expected any, that was fine by me. All I wanted was Derek out of my life. And my decree nisi , of course. I couldn’t understand why it was taking so long.

I worried at first how I would cope without him, but financially I’ve managed extremely well. I took on a few more holiday homes to supplement my income. People are desperate for someone reliable to look after their second homes.

Other than that, life carried on as normal. I continued to watch crime dramas on television, sometimes watched birds on the estuary, and daily went on long walks with Alice, occasionally on the cliff path but mostly on the beach or dunes. Still on the alert in case I found a body, though I never really expected to find one.

But then, one bitterly cold Saturday in January, I did. And it was nothing like I’d imagined.

I’m not sure what I’d expected a body to look like. Dead, I suppose. Possibly decomposed. Certainly unpleasant. But the man in the leather jacket looked as if he was asleep. He was lying on his side, legs bent, one arm across his chest, the other thrown out to the side, and I might have been tempted to shake him had it not been for the weather. No one could survive such temperatures in so few clothes.

But it wasn’t his appearance that caused the greatest shock. Not once, in all the years, had I expected to recognise the victim. But I recognised this man — it was Donna’s husband.

I almost hadn’t gone for a walk that morning. It had been blowing a gale during the night, with temperatures well below freezing, and although the wind was lighter, it was still icy cold. But Alice kept scratching at the door and whining, and eventually I put on my warmest coat and set off.

We started off on the beach, but what wind there was still cut like a knife, and after a while I gave up and sought shelter in the dunes.

Alice loves days like that and was rushing around like a mad thing, but after we’d been walking for about half an hour she stopped abruptly on top of a ridge, sniffed the air, and took off down the other side.

I thought nothing of it and carried on, assuming she would come back when she was ready. But when she hadn’t appeared after several minutes I became worried and set off in pursuit.

I found her, tail wagging furiously, pawing at something behind a dune. Probably the remains of someone’s picnic, I thought, left over from summer — or a dead seabird, in which case I would drag her away quickly before she rolled in it and I had to bathe her when we got home. And then I saw the arm.

Yet even then I didn’t twig. After a lifetime of anticipating finding a body, when I finally found one I assumed it was a log. It wasn’t until I moved closer that I realised the log was made of leather, and the pale bit at the end was a hand.

I grabbed Alice’s collar and dragged her away, then returned to look more closely, and almost had a heart attack when I realised who it was. But what on earth had Donna’s husband been doing in the dunes?

He wasn’t dressed for walking, that was for sure. Beneath the leather jacket I could see a blue shirt and thin woollen jersey; on his lower half, fawn trousers and everyday tan leather shoes. I looked around for footprints, to see which way he might have come, but all I could see were mine and Alice’s. Any earlier ones had been obliterated by the previous night’s wind.

It was then I noticed the empty whisky bottle poking from under his jacket. Was that why he had come, to get drunk?

Slowly the likely truth dawned on me. He had come there to end his own life. He had chosen a place where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed, and drunk himself into a stupor, knowing he wouldn’t wake up. Life without Donna must have been more than he could bear.

“Poor man,” I murmured, realising I didn’t even know his name. My dear husband had a lot to answer for.

I moved away from the body and groped in my pocket for my mobile, only to discover I’d left it at home. I would have to wait till I got back to call the police.

I arrived to find a strange car parked outside, but as I approached, Derek climbed out. He looked terrible, with dark shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. Someone was in the passenger seat, though I couldn’t see who.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“My things,” he said sharply. “I’ve still got stuff here, in case you haven’t noticed. Stuff I hadn’t collected when you changed the locks.”

“They’re not here,” I said.

“No?” He turned towards the house.

“You’ve no longer any rights here,” I cried, coming between him and the door. “We reached an agreement, remember?”

“Oh, I remember. Thanks to that nerd of a local solicitor. Well, I’ve a different one now, a City one, and she’s advised me to go to court. With no children to provide a home for, she’s little doubt I can force a sale. Especially as I was the major breadwinner—”

“Get out!” I screamed. “Get away from here or I’ll call the police.”

“Not until I have my things!”

“They’re not here!” I cried. “I took everything of yours to the charity shop.”

His face turned thunderous. “There were three Ralph Lauren shirts in there!”

“Well, I hope they got a good price for them!”

I thought for a moment that he was going to hit me, but finally he swung round and marched back to the car. “And there’s me thinking I’d be lenient and let you have half,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Well, not anymore! I suggest you get some boxes next time you’re at the supermarket. You’ll need them for packing!”

I turned my back and struggled to unlock the door, but I was shaking too much to fit the key in the lock. Finally I managed it and slammed the door behind me, and leaned back against it until I heard them screech away. My heart was pounding: His anger seemed out of all proportion to what I’d done. For years he’d made my life a misery, and now he was worried about three pathetic shirts!

I went to the lounge and poured myself a brandy, his cruel words echoing in my head. No kids to provide a home for... well, whose fault was that? He was the one who never wanted children. Oh, he’d never come right out and said it, not in so many words; it just never happened to be the right time. “When we get a place of our own,” was his excuse when we were in the rented flat, and when we bought one, “Let’s wait till we get a house and garden.” But when we got the house he claimed the mortgage payments were too high and we couldn’t afford a family until he got promotion. And by the time he did...