can't explain it - but
she doesn't love my brother. I know that. She might have been desperate to get married to him, but that's not the same as loving him. If she genuinely loved him, she'd never have gone through this charade today, she'd have been too upset.'
Grace looked at her with growing interest.
'You see?' Early said. 'That's a woman talking. Maybe a jet-lagged woman, like my mum says. But a woman. A caring woman who loves her bro. Unlike his bitch-queen-from-hell fiancee.'
'EarlyI'
'Oh fuck off, Mum.'
52
After Ashley left the flat, still furious at him, Mark switched on the television, hoping to catch the local news. He tried the radio too, but it was just gone seven and he had missed it.
Changed into jeans, trainers, a sweatshirt and a light anorak, with a baseball cap tugged low over his forehead, he was shaking from nerves and from an overdose of caffeine. He'd already downed two mugs of strong coffee in his attempt to sober up and was now finishing off a third. He drained the last dregs, then walked to the front door of his apartment. Just as he reached it the phone rang.
Hurrying back into the living area, he looked at the caller display. Private number. After a moment's hesitation he picked up the receiver.
'This is Kevin Spinella from the Argus. I'd like to speak to Mr Mark Warren.'
Mark cursed. If he'd been thinking more clearly he might have told the man that Mark Warren was out, but instead he found himself saying, 'Yes, speaking.'
'Mr Warren, good evening, sorry to trouble you on a Saturday evening. I'm calling about your business partner, Michael Harrison. I went along to the wedding that should have taken place this afternoon at All Saints' church, Patcham. You were the best man -1 didn't feel it appropriate to intrude at the church - but I wonder if I could have a few words with you now?'
'Urn - yes - yes, of course.'
'I understand Michael Harrison disappeared on his stag night, when there was that terrible accident. I'm curious to know why you, as best man, weren't there?'
'On the stag night?'
'Exactly.'
'I should have been, of course,' Mark said, calmly, trying to sound friendly, to make it all sound perfectly natural. 'I was out of town
up north on a business meeting - had it all scheduled to be back in good time, but my flight was delayed by fog,' Mark said.
'Where was that?'
'Leeds.'
'Ah right. These things happen - that's the problem with this country.'
'Absolutely!' Mark said, feeling they were starting to bond.
'I understand from the police that you have no knowledge of what was planned for the stag night. Is that right?'
Mark was silent for a moment. Thinking. Careful. 'No,' he said. 'That's not strictly true. I mean - that's not true at all. We had planned to go on a pub crawl.'
'A pub crawl! Right, OK. But isn't it usual for the best man to arrange the stag night?'
'Yes, so I believe.'
'But you didn't organize this stag night?'
Mark tried to focus his thoughts. Alarm bells were ringing. 'Yes, I did - Michael didn't want anything too elaborate -just to go to a few pubs with his mates. I had fully intended to be there.'
'What exactly did you plan?'
'We - ah - were going to do the usual stuff, you know - a bunch of pubs, get Michael wrecked, then deliver him home. We were going to hire a minibus and have a designated driver, but one of our crowd said he had access to a van and that he didn't mind not drinking, so we went along with that.'
'Where did the coffin fit into this plan?'
Shit. Mark felt himself getting deeper into mire. 'Coffin, did you say?'
'I understand you arranged for a coffin.'
'I don't know anything at all about a coffin!' Mark exclaimed. 'That's a new one on me.' Trying to sound really surprised he said again, for emphasis, 'Coffin?'
'Do you think your friends organized this in your absence?' the journalist asked.
'Absolutely. Must have done. One of them, Robert Houlihan, works - worked - for his uncle, an undertaker - but we never discussed a coffin. Are you sure about this?'
'I'm informed by the police they believe there was a coffin in the van - before the accident. Can you think what might have happened to Michael Harrison?'
