Sue Fortin - The Dead Wife

Owen looked away and Harry gave him time to contemplate his response. Finally, Owen spoke. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve had Dominic on my back this morning already and now you. Look, I promise I’m not doing coke or anything like that. One of the guests left it in their lodge and one of the cleaners handed it in. Dom wasn’t about, so I took it. I meant to flush it down the toilet, but I forgot I’d put it in my baccy pouch. I didn’t want anyone to see it.’

Harry wasn’t entirely convinced by his brother’s story – after all, it wouldn’t be the first time Owen had lied about his habits.

‘OK, sorry if I jumped to conclusions,’ Harry said, making a mental note to keep an eye on Owen while he was in the UK. They began walking again. ‘What was the beef with Dominic?’

‘Oh, nothing really. Just Dominic being Dominic. I think he forgets that I don’t actually work for him and that we work with each other. You know, all equal.’ Owen kicked at the gravel path. ‘But going back to what we were saying – if you can speak to him about the survival-days idea, then I can get on with it and sort it all out. He doesn’t even have to get involved.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Harry, although he was pretty sure that wasn’t what his brothers had been arguing about earlier.

‘Damn that bloody woman,’ said Elizabeth as she ended the call on her mobile. She was sitting in the coffee shop in the main shopping street of Kendalton, consoling herself with some retail therapy. Several boutique bags sat at her feet, but today the feeling of satisfaction wasn’t there. She didn’t really care for the £250 dress, the £300 boots or the £120 skirt she’d just acquired. It had been done out of spite, if she was honest. She’d used the credit card Harry had given her linked to his account which was supposed to be for emergencies, but Elizabeth had felt justified in using it today. After all, it was an emergency as far as she was concerned.

She’d come into town to get some legal advice on her position within the family business. She’d hoped there would be a loophole she could apply which would give her some sort of voting power or at least something she could use to apply pressure on the Sinclairs to allow her a vote on issues such as the sale of the land. As it turned out, there was nothing. It frustrated the hell out of her.

The call had been from Pru, asking her to be a darling and pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners.’

Pick up her evening dress from the dry cleaners! Who the hell did Pru think she was talking to? Elizabeth wasn’t some sort of PA!

Elizabeth eyed the garment bag from Jones’ dry cleaners, which she had carefully laid over the chair next to her so as not to crease it. Pru wanted it for a dinner party she was attending that evening. Elizabeth drummed her acrylic nails on the table, and a small smile tipped the corners of her mouth. She sloshed some of her coffee into the saucer before reaching over and unzipping the garment bag. Taking the edge of the dress, she turned the pale blue fabric over and, making sure no one was paying her any attention, she dripped the coffee from the saucer onto the silk. The muddy-coloured latte bloomed to the size of an apple.

Elizabeth’s smile broadened. That would teach the old bag a lesson. Pru probably wouldn’t even notice it until she was getting dressed and turned to admire herself in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. The coffee would well and truly have dried by then and it would be too late for Pru to do anything about it.

Elizabeth would, of course, deny all knowledge and claim it must have happened at the dry cleaners. No one would suspect she’d do anything like that – why would they?

Zipping up the garment bag, Elizabeth returned to her coffee – God, that tasted even better now. A small victory, with the only downside being Elizabeth wouldn’t be there to see the look on her mother-in-law’s face when she eventually spotted the stain. It would, of course, be awful if she didn’t spot it until she was already out. Yes, that would be dreadful.

As she sat back smugly in her seat she cast a glance out of the window, absently watching the people of Kendalton go about their business. Something – or, rather, someone – on the other side of the street caught her attention. She sat up straighter and there, hurrying along, was Owen Sinclair. Tracking his path, she watched him enter the shop across the road – a bookmakers’.

‘Why, Owen, you are a naughty boy,’ she said quietly to herself. Harry had told her about Owen and his gambling habits, how Owen had promised he wouldn’t do it any more and had even taken counselling sessions to overcome his addiction. Clearly, they either didn’t work or Owen didn’t want them to work.

Elizabeth gathered up her bags and the dry cleaning and left the coffee shop. She could be jumping to conclusions. Maybe Owen had business in the bookmakers’ and it was legitimately to do with the stables or the horses. Although something told her that she was probably being quite naive in thinking that. She crossed the road and slowed her pace, before taking her phone out and pretending to look at messages, but in actual fact looking in through the window of the bookmakers’.

She couldn’t really get a clear view of Owen, but he was definitely at the back speaking to a cashier. Elizabeth opened the camera on her phone and took a couple of snaps. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with the pictures but a vague idea was forming in the back of her mind. As she looked up she could see Owen turning to leave and she scooted into the shop next door so he wouldn’t spot her.

She waited patiently and a few moments later Owen walked past the window. She assumed he was heading back to wherever he’d parked his car.

Again, Elizabeth didn’t have time to reason out her actions, but she stepped out of the shop and from a safe distance followed him down the road. Fortunately, it was market day in the town and both locals and holidaymakers were out in force, making it easy for Elizabeth to follow Owen without being seen. She assumed Owen had left his car down one of the side roads but was once again surprised to see him pause outside a pub, where he had a quick look to his left and right, before entering.

‘You are being exceedingly naughty,’ said Elizabeth quietly. No wonder Owen had driven all the way out here. He probably thought he was on safe ground and no one he knew would be over this way. Well, he hadn’t banked on Elizabeth and her retail therapy, had he?

With the idea of what to do with this knowledge now taking a better shape, Elizabeth followed Owen into the pub. He was standing at the bar watching the barmaid pull him a pint of lager.

Excellent! This really was going rather well.

Elizabeth moved out of Owen’s peripheral vision and waited patiently as he paid for his pint and then took a long swig from the glass. She didn’t miss her opportunity and snapped him on her phone as he slugged the cold liquid.

As he put down the glass he rested his arm on the bar and half-turned to face the rest of the room. It was then he did an almost comedy double-take as he saw Elizabeth standing there. The expression of surprise was quickly replaced with guilt. He moved his body so that he shielded his pint and picked up the glass of orange juice which was sitting on the bar.

Elizabeth admired his tactic and foresight; it was just a shame the execution and delivery were poor. She smiled back at him and walked over. ‘Owen! What a surprise. I thought it was you coming in here.’ She air-kissed the side of his face. ‘What on earth are you doing in Kendalton?’