The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

I laughed a little. ‘I like everything to be laid out and in order. If you give me the details of anything you’d like arranged for when you return home, I’ll get that done while you’re away.’

Meryl looked puzzled. ‘While I’m away? No, no, dear, while we’re away.’

I stared back at her, blinking. ‘You mean, you and the Allertons?’

Meryl smiled. ‘Well, yes, Cassandra and Michael, and Charles and Matthew and Titus. And you.’

I continued to stare, this time with my mouth slightly open, only just comprehending what she was saying. ‘What? You mean, you want me to come?’

Meryl laid her palms upwards in an of course motion. ‘Oh, my dear, I’m not sure I’d manage the whole thing without you. You really are proving yourself to be indispensable.’

And with that, she put her phone away, gave me a kindly pat on the shoulder, and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen and her 11am green-juice smoothie, leaving me on the sofa with a sense of steadily rising excitement. It would be nice to have one last holiday, I thought. Before I go to prison for murder.

Chapter Twenty-Three Rachel

Two days after the murder

I sit in police custody, waiting. I’m still partly in shock at what I’m doing. But the other part is relieved it’s all over now. That everything will, hopefully, be plain sailing from now on. It was fun while it all lasted, of course. Living with Meryl, mixing with people from a completely different world to the one I came from. But I always knew it wasn’t going to last for ever. I think back to that time now not with regret, just contentment. I’m pleased I got to live a little myself before things had to end in this way. Because they always had to end in this way.

But as the hours, and now days, go by, I’m starting to wonder if everything is as clear cut as I’ve presumed. Is there, perhaps, something I’ve missed? Or have the other two talked? Talked too much? Tripped themselves up? Got their stories in a mix too far-fetched for the police not to suspect something strange is happening here? Because all this depends on one clear thing: Charlie and Titus must stick to the story. That’s the only way this can all work. And for everyone to be happy.

My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of Detective Inspector Susan Okonjo. She walks into my cell, leaving the door open, with another police officer, this one uniformed, standing behind her. ‘Good afternoon, Rachel.’

Is it afternoon? I can hardly tell. I know more than one day has passed, but time is starting to get the better of me. When I don’t reply, DI Okonjo carries on with whatever little speech she has planned.

‘I’ve had a conversation with the CPS and it’s time for you to be formally charged for the murder of Matthew Allerton-Jones. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

I nod.

‘Good.’ She turns to go, but stops before she’s properly left the room. She turns her small, slim frame back round to face me, with a curious look on her face, like something’s bothering her. ‘I have to say, Rachel, when we brought you in, I thought this was going to be fairly simple. But it’s not, is it?’

I stay silent.

‘In fact, I’ve been putting off charging you because, well … something just feels a little odd.’ She bites her lip, as if she’s thinking about what she’s going to say next. I get the feeling she’s going off-script now. ‘If I were to give you one more chance, one last attempt to unpick this whole thing, would you take it? We could have it out right now, you and me. You can tell me anything you want. Any details you’re keeping back. Anyone you might be … protecting.’

She gets my attention with this. Slightly impresses me, even. But it’s not going to work. She’s wasting her time. So I tell her.

‘I murdered Matthew Allerton-Jones. I went to the house to do it. It was the easiest thing in the world. If you’re a real detective, it shouldn’t be hard for you to work out why. You’ll see I had a very good reason to. But I’m not doing your job for you. Charge me. Let’s just get this over with. I’m not going to speak anymore.’

I see her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything. Just watches me intently. Then she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, leaving me alone once more.

Chapter Twenty-Four Charlie

Three months to go

The day before we were due to fly to New York, Matthew went AWOL again. I kept on trying his phone, worried that I couldn’t find our passports and irritated he wasn’t home helping me pack.

Even though I knew he was probably fine – stuck in traffic, out of signal range – I couldn’t help but be reminded of October last year, when Matthew was absent just when I needed him. When Titus had been attacked. Although this wasn’t as dramatic a moment, of course, if we didn’t find the passports soon it looked like our part in the trip would have to be cancelled and my parents and Meryl would be jetting off without us. Then there was the strange instance at Christmas, when the car had broken down. All these signs were mounting up, and I probably, deep down, knew how stupid I was being then not to properly string them together. But up until that point, my marriage had been the most concrete, indestructible thing in my life. We’d been a proper partnership, a team, so unified and at one with each other, very different from, say, my parents’ weirdly distant relationship.

He eventually arrived home later, apologetic and starving, saying he’d had to go on an impromptu trip to Surrey to see this ageing philosopher whose paper they