Till Death Do Us Part. Stephen Edger

all right,’ Ben confirmed. ‘I’ve told Alice exactly what happened. She knows everything.’

      Shrugging, Dave handed over the phone, opened on the photos app. Alice stared at the screen, an image of Ben and Dave looking worse for wear in the back of a taxi. The next three images were of the group of men laughing and messing about, empty shot glasses in the background. Then a picture of a woman in a miniskirt and black leather jacket appeared on the screen, and Alice nearly dropped the phone.

      ‘Is this her? Is this Kerry Valentine?’ Alice asked.

      Dave nodded grimly. ‘It’s hard to imagine that only hours after this picture was taken, she was dead.’

      Alice studied the photograph. Kerry Valentine was exactly as Ben had described: a petite blonde who looked like she should still be in college, though her face also bore the strain of someone who had suffered more than her fair share of knocks over the years. Alice was certain she hadn’t seen the face among those she’d searched for online last night, but the image on Dave’s phone was grainy.

      Alice frowned as a thought stirred. ‘How do you know she died only hours after the photograph?’

      Dave’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s what one of the detectives said. Reckoned they knew for certain that she’d been dead for several days, though they didn’t confirm if she died on Saturday night or Sunday. The victim was still wearing the clothes she had on in that picture apparently.’

      Alice continued to scroll through the photos of Kerry in various stages of undress; and the ones of Ben licking the cream from her body made Alice want to gag as the images seared on her memory. The next picture had been captured outside; Ben’s trousers were down around his ankles and his shirt was unfastened, his arms draped around a lamppost. This was followed by a shot of the rest of the group, laughing at Ben’s predicament. Then there was a second shot of Ben at the lamppost, but this time he was sitting on the floor, his head bent low, like he was sleeping.

      ‘That’s the one I took when we got back from the off-licence,’ Dave explained, pointing at the screen. ‘That was the only time we weren’t together all night. Which is what I told the police.’

      Ben stood, his bottle now empty. ‘You want another?’

      Dave shook his head. ‘I’d better not, I’m driving. Also, I’d better check on Abdul, his boss is probably gonna give him shit about letting us use the venue. Besides, I should probably get out of your hair. The last thing you two need is me hanging around as some third wheel.’

      ‘Wait, don’t go yet,’ Ben said, retaking his seat. ‘There was something else I wanted to run past you. The detective who interviewed me at the station wanted to know if anyone might have it in for me. Asked if I have any enemies, or whether anyone had made any threats.’

      Dave frowned. ‘Yeah they asked me the same thing. I said I didn’t know, that nothing sprang to mind. What did you say?’

      ‘The same thing, but it got me wondering whether anyone could be trying to set me up to take the fall for this. I do business with several multimillion pound companies, and my competitors can be pretty ruthless. What if one of them followed us to Bournemouth and attacked Kerry, knowing the police would tie us lot back to it?’

      ‘You want me to ask around?’ Dave asked gruffly.

      ‘Please. I’m probably just being paranoid, but I’d like to know for sure. Kick over some stones and see what you find out.’

      Dave nodded and handed Ben the empty bottle as the two of them proceeded through the house, leaving Alice alone in the garden.

      Her phone started ringing and, seeing Faye’s profile picture on the screen, she quickly answered. ‘Hi, sweetie.’

      Alice hadn’t anticipated hearing Faye sobbing. ‘I’m … I’m … I’m … sorry,’ she moaned, her breathing erratic. ‘I … didn’t … know … who … else … to … call.’

      A ball of worry developed rapidly in the pit of Alice’s stomach. ‘Faye, what’s going on?’

      ‘It’s … it’s … Johnny … He’s … left … me.’