An hour had passed, and Alice’s efforts to learn more about the list of names and how any of the men could be involved in the death of Kerry Valentine had proved fruitless. She couldn’t understand how private investigators managed to glean so much information about potential targets, as all her search efforts had failed miserably.
She had started by looking at Ben’s friends on social media, focusing on the names that matched those on the list, but it turned out Ben was friends with four men called James, none of whom resembled anyone in the photographs taken in Bournemouth. She’d had just as much luck looking for someone called Duke, as none of his friends had that listed as a name. Could it be a nickname? There was a woman listed as an old school friend called Brenda Dukovsky, so could she have a husband or brother Ben knew who wasn’t on social media? It was anybody’s guess.
The sun’s rays were beating down on the open window, and although the air freshener had cloaked the stale smell, the room was feeling stuffy and she longed for fresh air. Locking the laptop, she reached for her handbag and headed back along the corridor, out through the school’s front door and back out through the gates. There was a parade of shops ten minutes’ walk away, and it was here she headed, hoping the newsagents would be open so she could buy a cold drink and a snack, only now realizing she hadn’t eaten before leaving home.
Ben would probably be awake by now and would have gone looking for her to apologize for the mess and for not coming to bed. He would be sure to phone or message her when he found she wasn’t there. Looking at her phone she could see he hadn’t made contact, though, and she felt disappointed that he wasn’t missing her yet.
The walk to the shop ended sooner than she’d anticipated, and as she stepped in through the door, she realized she now felt even warmer than when she’d left the school. The man behind the counter looked up from the newspaper he was reading, smiled and waved in her direction. She smiled back, skimming the labels in the tall drinks fridge and looking for something refreshing. She didn’t want a fizzy drink, but her energy was waning and her blood glucose could do with a boost, so she reached for a bottle of juice, pressing it against her forehead, savouring the cool relief.
‘It’s a hot one today,’ the man behind the counter commented, although he was dressed in a thick yellow woollen cardigan and donned a flat cap.
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged, quickly reaching for a cereal bar and placing both items on the counter.
‘A beautiful day for a beautiful lady,’ the newsagent said, chuckling to himself bashfully.
Alice paid and put her change in the charity box on the edge of the counter. Placing the bottle of juice against the back of her neck as she left, she held it there for the duration of the walk back to the school. A tiny breeze took the edge off the heat, but the cloudless sky was a sign that today was going to be a scorcher.
The staff car park was fuller now, and as she headed back to the modern language centre she was relieved not to run into anyone else who might casually enquire how the wedding had gone and why she wasn’t on her honeymoon. A knock on the door five minutes later was followed by Tara’s enthusiastic face poking around it.
‘So it’s true,’ Tara commented as she slumped into the spare chair.
‘What is?’ Alice asked, opening the bottle of juice.
‘That the great Alice Tandy – sorry, Goodman – has returned to our humble establishment.’
Alice cocked a curious eyebrow.
Tara grinned mischievously. ‘Andrew’s been in the staffroom telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re back and how beautiful you looked on Saturday.’
Alice’s cheeks flushed. ‘Is he really? Oh that’s so awkward. He stopped by a while ago and I didn’t have the heart to ignore him. I don’t understand how he knows what I looked like on Saturday though; he wasn’t invited to the wedding.’
‘He was probably watching from across the street with a pair of binoculars like some peeping Tom.’
Alice thought back to what he’d said about birdwatching.
Tara shrugged and lifted the cereal bar, reading the ingredients. ‘I assumed you’d showed him a picture or something. When I walked in, he was busy telling Sheila Retnor from Modern History how resplendent you’d looked. “Like a princess at a fairy-tale wedding,” was my favourite quote.’
‘I swear I didn’t show him any pictures! He called by earlier and asked how the day went, but I obviously didn’t tell him the whole story.’
Tara lowered the cereal bar back to the desk. ‘You shouldn’t lead him on. You’re married to Ben now, it isn’t fair to encourage Andrew to hold a torch for you.’ Tara erupted into a fit of giggles as Alice scowled at her. ‘Anyway, I had to see it for myself,’ Tara continued. ‘I mean, this is commitment! Married less than five minutes and already back at the grindstone. You put the rest of us to shame, Alice Goodman, you really do!’
Alice laughed and took a sip of juice.
‘I take it the police haven’t returned Ben’s passport yet?’ Tara said when she’d composed herself.
‘Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long. The rest of the stag party have made statements corroborating Ben’s version of events and explaining why his DNA was on her body.’
‘Were you able to rearrange the trip to Barbados?’
Alice shook her head. ‘Ben is sorting that side of things today. He’s hopeful we might be able to claim something back from somewhere, and then we’ll book to go away later in the year.’
‘Ah, I am sorry you didn’t get to go to Barbados. I mean, I was insanely jealous that your gorgeous new husband was sweeping you away to a tropical paradise, but you don’t deserve this.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So why are you really here? At the wedding you told me you were all prepped for the first term – don’t tell me the two of you have fallen out already?’
Alice fixed her friend with a look before deciding to come clean. ‘I think Ben suspects one of his friends could have been involved in that girl’s death. I found a list of names he and Dave drew up last night and I was trying to work out who they are.’
Tara frowned. ‘You’re serious? You’ve turned amateur detective overnight. Should I refer to you as Jessica Fletcher from now on?’
Alice gave her a withering look and handed over her phone. ‘Do you recognize any of the names at the end of the list? I’m curious about Michael, Duke and Gary primarily as I have no idea who they are.’
Tara studied the list. ‘Ben could have been a doctor with this handwriting; it’s terrible!’
‘Do any of the names mean anything to you?’
‘I went on a date with a Michael a couple of years ago. Do you know what this Michael’s surname is?’
Alice shook her head. ‘How did you meet him?’
‘Faye and Johnny set us up on a blind date, with blind being the operative word. I don’t think they’d described me to him nor had he seen a picture. I’ve never seen such a disappointed look on a man’s face in all my life. I found him at the table and as he looked up from the menu it was like I’d come in and stolen his Xbox or something. He was pleasant enough, but having walked me home, he made no effort to kiss me goodnight, and when I asked Faye if he wanted to see me again she tried to let me down gently. Shame really. He was cute.’
Alice chewed on her fingernail. ‘Well if he knows Faye and Johnny then it’s possible it’s the same person. Can you describe him to me?’
Tara considered the question. ‘Tall, six foot maybe, short, cropped blond hair, no sign of facial hair. Clearly someone who loved spending every spare minute at the gym. I really don’t see why we weren’t compatible.’ She laughed again.
‘Swipe the screen left,’ Alice suggested. ‘Do you see him in any of the next few pictures?’
Tara studied the screen. ‘Mm, this could be him, but the image is a bit grainy. I can’t say for sure.’
‘What was his surname?’
‘Mayhew, or something like that. I only remember as I thought it was odd that his first name and surname began with the same letter, like that serial killer, Michael Myers.’
Alice’s eyes widened.
‘That’s a fictional character, Alice,’ Tara chided. ‘Doesn’t mean this Michael wears a hockey mask and haunts women on Halloween. Don’t let your imagination get the better of you.’
‘Did you hear the latest about Faye and Johnny?’
Tara nodded slowly. ‘She phoned me this morning and asked whether you’d spoken to me about it. She said you went over?’
‘She was in a bad way. He’d punched her at least twice from what I could see, but she was adamant she didn’t want to tell the police. I told her she must be mad to put up with that kind of behaviour, but she didn’t want to listen.’
Tara looked away for a moment. ‘Do you blame her? She loves him, and nothing either one of us can say will change that. Think about how you’d react if I told you Ben was a killer. You wouldn’t believe me.’
‘That’s because he isn’t,’ Alice scolded, not enjoying the microscope being so suddenly pointed at her own marriage.
‘I know he isn’t, but even if he was and I presented you with irrefutable proof, would you believe me? You’d probably tell me I was way off and that you wouldn’t believe it unless you heard the words from him. I mean, just look at this Jessica Fletcher thing you’ve got going on here, all to help clear his name with the police.’
‘Yeah, but Faye’s situation is different – she was there when he hit her. If Ben tried to kill me, then I’d be more convinced of his bad nature.’
‘I know, I know, it was a shit analogy, but my point is valid. She loves Johnny and she will cling to the possibility that he might change for as long as she can. All we can do is support her and encourage her to continue with the counselling sessions.’
Alice stared at her in amazement. ‘They ought to give you your own radio show. I reckon you could give Oprah a run for her money.’
Tara smiled. ‘I know, I’m actually thinking of charging for my relationship advice; I’ll drop an invoice off for you later on, okay?’
Alice smiled. ‘It does raise a few questions about Johnny’s presence in Bournemouth last Saturday. After all, if he can do that to his wife, what’s he capable of doing to a stranger?’
The question hung in the air like a bad smell, with neither of them able to overlook it.