‘Hannah did, though,’ Ethan said.
Susan was still staring at the knives. She turned to look at him. ‘What?’
‘Hannah, she left. She took me by surprise, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to her before she jumped into her car and pulled away. She was carrying an overnight bag, so I’m guessing she’ll be away for a while.’
‘But Mark is still there? And he’s all right?’
The anxiety in her voice must have struck Ethan as amusing because he laughed. ‘You’re afraid she might have killed him off, eh? It wouldn’t be of any benefit to her; she wasn’t married to him. She’s capable, though.’ His expression turned ugly. ‘More than capable.’ He caught Susan’s horror-widened eyes and shook his head. ‘Relax, he’s okay. He came to the balcony to wave her off.’
‘So where’s she gone?’
‘I thought she might be going back to her mother’s and followed, hoping to get a chance to talk to her, but when she took the turn for the M4, I knew I’d been wrong.’
‘The M4? So where’s she going?’ She wasn’t sure he was going to answer. He looked shifty, sly. Could she trust a word he said? That any man said. She pictured Mark in that apartment, maybe sitting on the balcony relaxing. Had he given her one thought? He’d said he’d be home that evening but how could she face him knowing what she knew now? She was still waiting for Ethan to answer. ‘Well,’ she nudged. ‘It’s obvious you know, so why don’t you tell me.’
‘I don’t know precisely,’ he prevaricated. ‘But I had a chance to do a bit of snooping while Hannah was asleep on Sunday.’ He shrugged off any guilt. ‘Call it an occupational hazard; I like to snoop. Because she’d recently moved, everything was neat and tidy, so it made it easy. I found her husband’s address—’
‘Husband!’
‘Yes,’ he frowned. ‘She lied to me. Surprise, surprise. Said she’d never been married. But I found a copy of a will which referred to her as the wife of an Ivan Butler. When I got home, I searched for him. He’s a wealthy landowner who’s made himself even richer by some astute financial dealings.’
‘Is she planning to divorce him to be with Mark?’
Ethan looked around the room. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not exactly rich, are you?’ He shot her an apologetic look. ‘I’d categorise you as very comfortable, but Hannah is a high-maintenance woman; comfortable won’t get her what she’s used to.’
‘I don’t mean to be rude either,’ Susan said, ‘but you thought you had a chance with her and I’d say you’re a few steps below comfortable myself.’
‘Yea, well I’m fucking good at fooling myself, aren’t I?’ He got to his feet, then sat again heavily, the feet of the chair scraping on the tiled floor. ‘I knew I never had a chance with her.’ He looked at Susan. ‘She wants Mark, though, I’m guessing, and didn’t want you throwing a spanner in the works before she was sure of him.’
Sadly, that made sense. She wanted to make sure he wouldn’t wriggle free. ‘But as you said, we’re not rich.’
‘No.’ He tapped a fingernail on the table. ‘Her husband is, though, and he’s a lot older than she is. Maybe she’s hoping he’ll croak and she’ll have his money.’
He laughed, a cynical, bitter sound that was painful to hear. A wave of weariness swept over Susan. It was all too much.
‘Hell,’ Ethan said, ‘I wouldn’t put it past her to help him on his way.’
It was a measure of how she was feeling that this didn’t shock Susan. How could it when she’d imagined going around to that apartment with a knife. ‘You really think she’d do that: kill him?’
‘If she hasn’t already done so. He’s retired and they live in an old, detached house; he could be lying there dead, how would anyone know?’
It was a horrible thought. Surely, Hannah couldn’t be as bad as he was painting her. Mark wouldn’t have fallen for a monster. He liked nice, quiet women. Didn’t he? Or was Susan fooling herself, just as much as the man sitting opposite had done? What idiots people could be for love. ‘You make her sound like some kind of black widow or something.’
‘Look.’ He leaned across the table, his face creased in frustration. ‘I only know that she’s a manipulative woman who gets what she wants, and doesn’t care what she has to do to get it.’ He got to his feet again, and this time took a step away. ‘I’ve done what I came for. Told you the truth. Apologised. That’s it.’
‘That’s it!’ Susan stood and faced up to him. ‘You walk away and leave me worrying about what the fuck is going on. Is that really it?’
He held his hands up. ‘That’s really it.’
‘Where does the husband live?’
‘I don’t know. Near Windsor somewhere.’
Susan felt a rage building. If she’d been able to reach a knife right then, she’d have taught this man not to treat her like a fool. She didn’t know who she was any more, this angry woman full of violence. A deep breath helped. ‘Listen,’ she said, keeping her voice calm. ‘I’ll cut a deal with you. Give me the man’s address and I won’t go to your boss, tell him what you did. Give it to me and you can walk away with the money. And you’ll never hear from me again.’ She held his gaze, waiting to see him recognise the sense it would make to give her what she needed. There was never any doubt in her mind that he knew exactly where Ivan Butler lived.
‘You fucking women,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll be glad to be shot of the lot of you.’ He reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a notebook and pen. Leaning on the table, he scribbled the address on a page, tore it out, and handed it to her.
She quickly scanned it and nodded. ‘Thank you.’
He stuffed pen and notebook back into the pocket and turned for the door. Curiosity stopped him, and he looked back. ‘What’re you going to do – go there?’
What was she going to do? When she’d asked for the address, she had a vague notion of looking at it on Google Maps. Maybe even going into Street View to get a closer look. But what would that achieve? Absolutely nothing. But if she went there, she could do two things. Confront the woman, beg her to leave Mark alone, and find out if there was any truth in Ethan’s words that she might have harmed her husband, because if there was, Mark might be in danger, and despite his cheating, she’d risk anything for him.
‘I don’t think you’ve left me with much choice.’ She folded the address and shoved it into her jeans’ pocket. ‘If you’re worried, you could come with me.’ She wished he would. She’d a vague idea that her courage, like her violence, was a transient thing, and would probably vanish as soon as she knocked on Ivan Butler’s door.
But Ethan shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure I could survive a third round with Hannah Parker. Take my advice: stay well clear. If she wants your husband, she’ll get him. I’d give up now if I were you.’ And with that, he was gone, the front door slamming and echoing in the silence he’d left behind.