The Dead Dog Day (30 page)

‘Probably the last person you'd ever think,' Benjamin said. ‘Once all the predictable suspects are ruled out – partner, work colleagues – then it's quite often somebody random, which makes it really difficult. They'll probably never find out who did it now, it's been months.'

‘Hmmm, maybe,' Cora sighed. ‘I'd love to know though. Still don't understand how it happened right there, practically under our noses, and we still don't know who was responsible.'

‘You know what, I don't even care any more,' Wendy announced, and drained her glass. ‘I think it's way better at work without her. Sam's doing a brilliant job as a stand-in, and the whole atmosphere is so much nicer without the old bag in the corner office. Whoever did it did us all a favour, and I hope you stay our boss for ever, darling girl.'

Sam blushed. ‘Aww, thanks! They're looking for a new editor though, I won't be in charge for much longer. It's been fun, nevertheless.' A sudden look, a combination of sadness and anger, crept into her eyes. Cora, instantly understanding, leaned across to stroke her friend's hand.

‘Well, long may it last. Now – are we all finished? Because I could eat a scabby dog. Thai or Indian?' Cora reached for her coat.

‘Thai. They always give me free drinks there. It's closer too,' said Benjamin, standing up. ‘Is that alright for all of you?'

‘Free drinks? Definitely!' laughed Cora, and the others agreed vociferously. Wriggling into their jackets as they walked, they made their way out of the busy bar, dodging a group of inebriated twenty-something girls, several of whose mouths dropped open as they spotted the handsome TV presenter wending his way through the crowd.

‘Phwoar!' one of them shrieked. ‘Get your kit off, Boland!'

Benjamin threw her a smouldering glance, then winked at Cora. She slipped her hand into his, secretly delighted by the attention he got and secure in the knowledge that this gorgeous man was all hers. Let them leer – she was the one who'd be sleeping next to him tonight!

They reached the door and Benjamin pulled it open and stood back, putting on his most solemn face and bowing slightly to each of them as they passed through it into the mild spring night. Cora giggled, and then stopped abruptly, causing Benjamin to walk straight into her as he followed her out.

‘What are you doing?' he spluttered.

Cora pointed, face suddenly tight with rage. ‘Look. Across the road. It's
him
.
Again
.'

The other three stared, following her finger. Sure enough, half-hidden in a doorway directly opposite the bar, stood a man. He looked up suddenly from the phone he'd been tapping on, and his gaze landed on the little group across the road. Slowly, he reached up and pulled his hood closer around his face, then moved out of the doorway and started to walk briskly down the street.

‘No – not this time!' Cora yelled.

‘Cora – wait!' Wendy begged.

‘No – I've had enough!'

There'd been a sudden break in the traffic and she was across the road in a flash. The man glanced over his shoulder, saw her approaching and started to run, but Cora was already on his tail. Breaking into a sprint, she caught up with him and, reaching out a hand, grabbed the hood of his jacket.

‘Stop!' she screeched.

The man stopped walking and turned to face her, tugging his head sideways so she lost her grip. The hood slipped away from his face and Cora stared at him. He was pale, thin, with a scruffy goatee beard and dark blue eyes. She didn't recognise him at all.

‘Look – I mean no harm. I'm not trying to hurt you,' he stammered, in a soft Welsh accent.

‘Well – what are you doing? Why have you been lurking around, following me, spying on me, for months?' Cora was still breathing heavily.

The man just shook his head and looked over her shoulder. Benjamin, Sam, and Wendy were fast approaching, concerned looks on their faces.

‘I'm just a … a paparazzo. And not a very good one. Sorry, I have to go.' And with that he turned and jogged off, disappearing round the corner just as Cora's friends arrived.

‘Well? What did he say?' Sam urged.

‘Just said he was a bad paparazzo, and meant no harm.' Cora gazed down the street, her breathing steadying. ‘He looked harmless enough, I suppose. I guess you were right Benj, about him just being a snapper?'

Benjamin ran his fingers through his hair, a puzzled look on his face. ‘I wish I was right Cora. But now I've seen him close up, I don't think I am.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, there was kind of something rather crucial missing there, don't you think?'

It was Cora's turn to look puzzled. ‘Huh?'

Sam looked at Benjamin and nodded slowly. She turned to Cora.

‘He's right. There
was
something missing. If he really is a pap, where was his camera, Cora? He didn't have a camera.'

Cora looked wide-eyed at her friends, her stomach suddenly tightening with fear. No camera. Of course. Suddenly shivering, she reached for Benjamin. He held her close, exchanging worried glances with Sam and Wendy over her shoulder. What the hell was going on?

45

Monday 9
^th
April

It was Monday. A new week. And Jeanette Kendrick's killer had made a decision. There was no more time to waste. This week. This week, it was time for number two. The killer nodded slowly. It wasn't going to be easy, or enjoyable, not like the first one. But it would be done. It had to be done. The killer nodded slowly. This week.

It had been a quiet news day. Too quiet, thought Cora, as she arranged the sofa cushions more to her liking and settled back to watch
Coronation Street
. A quiet day generally meant something huge was about to happen – an unexpected storm, a political scandal, a high profile murder. Mindful of that unwritten rule of the TV news business, she'd reluctantly poured a large glass of sparkling water instead of wine to accompany her prawn stir fry. And sure enough, just as the end credits of the soap started to roll, her mobile chirruped. Cora sighed and reached for it.

‘Cora – sorry, babe. Two British soldiers killed on an exercise in Canada and nobody free here. Need you outside the Home Office in the morning. Booked you into a lovely hotel though.'

Sam's tone was apologetic.

Cora's heart sank but it wasn't her friend's fault. ‘No worries. I'll head down straight away then, make the most of it! See you in the morning.'

‘You're a doll. Bye.'

Cora rolled off the sofa and headed to the bedroom to collect her overnight bag. Two hours later she was making her way along Chelsea Embankment, in what was ludicrously heavy traffic for 10.15 at night. Rolling her eyes as yet again a bank of brake lights glowed red in front of her, she lowered her window and breathed in the cold night air, letting her gaze wander along the north bank of the Thames, the streetlights dancing on the dark water. It was raining, the windscreen wipers flicking back and forth with hypnotic regularity and making her feel even sleepier than she already was. She glanced in her rear view mirror, and felt a sudden slight chill. Two cars behind – was that a navy car again? She flicked the switch to wipe the rain off her rear window and squinted in the mirror again. Yes, definitely a navy car. But was it the same one she'd seen those times before? She wasn't sure. Oh for goodness' sake. How many navy blue cars were there in London? Thousands.
Stop it, Cora
.

She checked the road ahead again – stationary. Groaning, she reached for the piece of paper on the passenger seat, reminding herself that her hotel was next left and left again, and then scrunched it up and threw it into the plastic bag that served as an in-car bin. Still no sign of the traffic moving. Bloody London, thought Cora. I love it, but I could never live here.

She leaned back against the headrest and watched idly as a little cluster of people passed by, still in office suits and raincoats and clutching briefcases, one of the women hobbling a little in her high heels. She grabbed on to one of her male colleagues for support and laughed up at him flirtatiously as he slipped an arm around her. Cora smiled.

Then the smile faded from her lips as the group passed by, revealing a couple who'd stopped in a doorway just a few metres down the road. They seemed to be engrossed in conversation, the woman gesticulating animatedly, the man half-hidden under a large striped golf umbrella.

‘Is that Alice?' Cora thought. ‘Looks like her, the cow.'

She stared at the couple, remembering that Alice did indeed live somewhere in Chelsea. She was out late on a work night, wasn't she? So who was her boyfriend then? Could this be the mysterious father of Alice's so far still secret baby? True to her word, Cora hadn't breathed a word about the newsreader's pregnancy, but she was intrigued to know who the dad was.

The traffic moved forward about a metre then stopped again, but it was enough to get Cora close enough to decide that the girl was definitely Alice. She peered through the windscreen, as Alice flicked her long blonde hair back in characteristic fashion and suddenly leaned forward to kiss the tall man in the doorway. He bent down to meet her lips and as his face emerged from under the umbrella, Cora's heart almost stopped.

Was that …? No, it couldn't be. Suddenly shaking, she leaned forward again and stared. Oh no, she thought. No, no, no. It is. It's Benjamin.

46

For a moment, Cora sat frozen, horrified eyes fixed on the oblivious Benjamin and Alice. Then an irate horn sounded behind her, and she jumped, realising the traffic had suddenly started moving again. Spotting an empty parking meter, she indicated left and manoeuvred into the space, then turned off the engine with a shaky hand. What should she do? Only yards away now, her boyfriend and her loathed work colleague were still huddled in the doorway as the rain pounded the pavement.

In a flash, Cora made up her mind. She wrenched the driver's door open and leapt out, only narrowly missing an approaching cyclist, and marched down the street. As she got closer, her grief and disbelief turned to white-hot anger.

‘Well, hello, Benjamin, Alice. Anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on here?' she spat.

The two faces turned simultaneously.

‘Cora! Cora, my God! Look, it's not what it looks like, OK?' Benjamin spluttered, his face flushing, eyes wide with shock. Beside him, Alice looked horror-stricken.

Cora, her anger intensifying, pushed him hard on the arm and he actually staggered backwards a little, looking dismayed.

‘It's exactly what it looks like, Benjamin. We'd all been wondering in work about Alice's new mystery man – who would have thought it would be
my
boyfriend, eh? You're disgusting. All that talk of how much you loved me …'

Her voice cracked and she stopped. She would
not
cry in front of them.

‘I DO love you. I adore you. I'm so sorry, Cora, I just …' Benjamin actually sounded as if he might cry too.

Cora shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Benjamin covered his face with his hands, and a tiny sob escaped him. Alice, who'd been looking from one to the other, suddenly bent down and picked up her handbag, which had been resting on the doorstep. White-faced, she looked up at the stricken Benjamin once more, then turned to Cora.

‘I'm … I'm sorry, Cora. I've never had any luck with men. I thought he was different, but …' she whispered in an anguished tone. Then, her eyes too filling with tears, she stepped out into the driving rain and walked rapidly away, pulling her Burberry mac more tightly around her slim frame.

Cora suddenly felt weak. Benjamin was still slouched against the door, face in his hands.

‘I'm so sorry. You can't even imagine how sorry I am. I'm an idiot. I've got a problem … I think I'm a sex addict or something. I'll get help. Please, I'm so sorry,' he mumbled.

‘It doesn't matter. None of it matters. It was just all a massive mistake. I should have known better than to trust somebody like you. I'm the idiot here, Benjamin. Goodbye.'

‘No – wait, please!'

Cora ignored him. Running now, tears suddenly mingling with the rainwater that was streaming down her face, she was in her car and sliding back out into the slow stream of traffic before Benjamin had a chance to stop her. As she passed, sobbing wildly at the wheel, he stood on the sodden pavement, hands running frantically through his hair.

‘Cora!' His tortured roar reached her despite her closed windows and the torrential rain that was battering her roof, but she drove on, somehow making her way to the hotel car park. Then, slumped in her seat, she howled. Why? Why did this always happen to her? Why could she not keep a man? What was
wrong
with her?

Another car pulled into the space next to her, and a smartly dressed man clambered out, looking curiously at Cora as he walked past and headed for the hotel reception door. Suddenly aware of how odd she must look, Cora sat up straight and pulled down the driver's mirror, still gulping. She stared at her reflection, eyes bloodshot and swollen, rivulets of mascara drawing dark streaks down her cheeks, hair still dripping.

As she fumbled in her glove box for some baby wipes, Cora wondered if Benjamin knew that Alice was pregnant. The word at work was that she hadn't told the father, wasn't it? Benjamin had been clear that he wasn't interested in having children. Maybe he'd dump Alice then, when he found out. The thought made Cora feel slightly better, but not much. How could he? How could
she
? They weren't friends, of course, but Alice had known how happy Cora was, how much in love she was.

‘Did she pick him on purpose, because she knew he was mine?' she wondered aloud. Shaking her head, and feeling the tears welling up again, Cora looked at the hotel in front of her. Another night in a hotel room, another horrible early alarm call, another morning standing outside in the cold. A wave of nausea swept over her. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Not today, not feeling like this. She made a sudden decision. And picking up the phone, Cora did something she'd never done before, not once in her entire career. Swallowing her sobs, she rang Sam and told her she was ill.