Peter James - The Perfect Murder

He got up and tried to kiss her, but she jerked back.

‘Come on, love, what’s the matter?’

She said nothing. She turned her face away from his and stared out at the garden. She looked at the lawn Victor had tended and at Victor’s shed. She looked at the greenhouse, with Victor’s tomato plants. She looked at the flower beds, at the plants that Victor had deadheaded. ‘Just take the stuff you were coming to collect. Take it and get rid of it!’

‘I love you,’ he said.

She turned and stared past Don. She gazed at the open doorway where she had seen the ring of tobacco smoke drift in, just a few hours earlier. Shit, she thought. Shit, shit, shit, what have I done?

Then her phone rang. It was Madge’s number on the display. Joan answered.

‘Joan! Joan, love! Is this true? Has Victor left you? I tried to get hold of you all night! How are you?’

Joan swallowed. Then she began to sob down the phone.

‘Joan, I’m coming over! What you need is some company!’

‘No, no, I’m fine.’

‘I’m coming over! We’re both coming over, Ted and me, right now! Ted’s taken the morning off work. We’ll be with you in half an hour. That’s what friends are for!’

‘Madge, that’s kind of you, but I’m fine—’ Joan stopped. She realized Madge had hung up.

‘Shit!’ she said.

Then she sniffed. She suddenly noticed a strange smell. But it was not that strange. It was a smell she knew only too well.

It was cigar smoke, again.

It was the smell of Victor’s cigars. It was getting stronger by the second. ‘Can you smell it?’ she said to Don.

‘Smell what?’

Joan closed her eyes. ‘You must be able to smell it!’

‘I can’t smell anything.’

‘Jesus, Don, what’s the matter with you?’

‘What’s the matter with me? ’ He stared at her in shock. ‘You need to calm down.’

‘I AM CALM!’ she yelled at him. ‘Just take all the stuff from last night and GO! GET OUT OF HERE. TED AND MADGE ARE COMING. GO!’

Don took all the empty bags and tools and loaded them into his van, which was once again backed up against the garage door. ‘I’ll call you later, my love,’ he said.

But Joan did not hear him. She was in the shower, scrubbing her body and washing her hair.

Stepping out, she dried herself, then towel-dried her hair. She sat down at her dressing table in front of the bed and began to apply some make-up. As she was putting on her lipstick, something moved in the mirror.

She spun round.

Victor was standing in the doorway. He was smiling at her.

Not the fat, balding Victor with a comb-over. It was the young, handsome Victor that she had married. Young, slim Victor, with his smooth brown hair and his gorgeous smile.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I – I don’t know what happened. To us. Right?’

The doorbell rang.

Victor vanished.

She ran down the stairs and opened the front door. Her hair was a mess, her make-up only half on. Madge and Ted stood there. Each of them gave her a big hug.

‘You poor thing!’ Madge said.

‘So where’s the old bugger gone, then?’ said Ted. ‘Chopped him up, have you, and buried him under the kitchen floor?’

‘That’s not funny, Ted!’ Madge chided.

‘I’ve thought about doing that to Madge a few times, I don’t mind telling you!’ Ted said.

‘Oooh, you’re so wicked!’ Madge replied. ‘Don’t listen to him! Come on, love, let’s get the kettle on. Tell us all about it.’

Joan put the kettle on and told them all about it. She just left out the bit about her and Don being lovers, and the bit about killing Victor, and the bit about burying him under the garage floor. Apart from that, she told them pretty much everything.

Which was nothing.

Ted summed it up. ‘So, he got made redundant and was depressed?’

‘Yes,’ Joan said.

‘Why didn’t the stupid bugger tell us?’ Ted asked.

Joan shrugged. ‘Pride, I suppose.’

‘Pride comes before the fall,’ Madge said, unhelpfully.

‘I’ll give him a piece of my mind when I see him,’ Ted said. ‘Making a drama out of this! Losing your job is nothing these days. I could lose mine at any time.’

‘You’d better not,’ Madge warned him sharply.

‘Just teasing!’ Ted laughed, and kissed her.

‘He’s such a tease, Ted is!’ Madge said.

Joan could not wait for them to leave. She really did not want them to be here, in her kitchen, in her home, gobbling down her biscuits and her coffee. She did not want them doing all their lovey-dovey stuff.

But they stayed, and they stayed, and they stayed. By midday, she was almost out of coffee and biscuits. She was almost out of anything to say.

‘He’ll be back,’ Madge said.

‘He will, you’ll see,’ Ted said.

‘He’s not the suicidal type,’ Madge added.

‘No, not the suicidal type at all,’ Ted agreed.

Then the doorbell rang.

Joan opened it without checking through the window. Standing on the doorstep were two men in suits.

One introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Mick Brett. The other was Detective Constable Paul Badger. They asked if they could come in.

Chapter Twenty

Joan introduced Ted and Madge to the two detectives. ‘They are just leaving,’ she added.

Madge said she would call this evening, to see how she was.

Ted gave her a kiss and told her not to worry. ‘Victor will be back,’ he said.

‘He will, he’ll be back,’ Madge added.

‘I’d offer you coffee, but I’ve run out of milk,’ Joan said to the detectives. ‘I can give you black, if you’d like?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Mrs Smiley,’ DS Brett said. He was a big man, with a shaven head that was shaped like a rugby ball.

‘I’m fine too,’ DC Badger said. He looked quite jolly, she thought. He was all smiles, with a boyish face and a modern haircut.

She sat them down on the lounge sofa. She cleared away the tray of coffee cups and plates covered in biscuit crumbs. ‘Can’t even offer you a biscuit,’ she apologized loudly from the kitchen. ‘If you’d come this evening, I’d have had a new packet.’

Then she walked back in and sat down opposite the two men.

‘Uniform Division has asked CID to take over the investigation into your missing husband, Mrs Smiley,’ Detective Sergeant Brett said.

‘Oh, I see. That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Well,’ he answered, ‘it’s good in the sense that Uniform are concerned about Mr Smiley’s safety.’

Joan made a show of pressing a finger against each eye in turn, then sniffing. ‘I’m so worried,’ she said. ‘I’m so worried about my poor darling Victor. I’m at my wits’ end.’

DS Brett pulled out his notebook. ‘There are a few things that we need to discuss with you, Mrs Smiley.’

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘The first is your husband’s mobile phone. When you filed a Missing Persons Report at Brighton Police Station yesterday, you said that you had rung his number many times since Monday evening. Do you remember saying that?’

Joan’s mouth suddenly felt dry. ‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘Well, we have obtained his mobile phone records from Vodafone. There is only one call from your mobile number to his. There is none from your landline. This call was yesterday evening. Can you explain that?’

Her head was spinning. She felt clammy all over. Then her eyes darted to the open doorway. She was certain she had seen something moving. Both police officers turned and looked in the same direction too. But there was nothing there.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘The thing is—’ She fell silent for a moment. Then she went on: ‘You see, there must be a mistake. I’ve called him – I don’t know – I don’t know how many times. The phone company must have made a mistake.’