Oliver paused, debating his answer. ‘And how do you think I’m going to do that? Follow him home, jump out from a cupboard and place a carrier bag over his head until he’s limp? You’re not thinking straight, Meagan. I can’t just go around murdering people. It’s against the law for a start. Have you thought about that?’
‘I’ve thought of nothing else. I’ve been with my husband for almost three years; I can’t explain what it’s like to live with such a vindictive bastard, worried every day I’m with him will be my last. You’ve seen the cuts and bruises, you know what I’m going through. I can’t leave the apartment; he watches my every move. Do you think I’d be here tonight if he wasn’t in Spain? I tiptoe through life, terrified of what he’ll do. His temper is getting worse, Oliver.’ She looked up, tears in her eyes, so pitiful. ‘He’s going to kill me unless we do something. You’re my only hope. I have no one else to turn to. He’s told me on more than one occasion if I ever leave, he’ll hunt me down. He said there’s no escape. He won’t let me leave. Not ever. You have to help me, Oliver. I’m begging you.’
Oliver stared, his head fuzzy, his mind racing, confused, contemplating his dilemma. He’d fallen for Meagan big time, was unable to think of anything else. She sat in front of him, asking for help, pleading with him. Scenarios played out in his mind, a mass of outcomes. Meagan was desperate; she wanted out of her marriage and this seemed to be the only way.
Oliver took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. ‘I want to help, honest, but there must be another way? What if I break into your apartment, kill this evil bastard, then what?’
Meagan answered like she already had it all worked out. ‘I’ll leave for the evening. The communal hall will be easy enough to get into; I’ll give you a key, then you can make your way up the two flights of stairs to apartment six.
‘Then what?’ Oliver watched Meagan’s face as she thought of an answer.
‘It’s up to you what you do, how you do it.’
‘Up to me? Funnily enough, Meagan, I don’t make a habit of this. Okay, I’ve watched films about murders and read novels about murders, but it doesn’t make it easier for me. I haven’t a clue where to start. I can’t just google “how to murder the husband of a woman from the train I’ve fallen for”.’
Meagan laughed. Oliver thought how rare that was: he’d known her a few weeks and could recall just a handful of times that he’d seen her face light up.
‘You’ll work it out. It’s my only hope, then we can be together.’
The next evening Meagan arrived at Oliver’s apartment at 7pm sharp, wearing a red blouse, knee-length skirt and black boots.
Oliver opened the door, quickly poked his head out to the hall to make sure they weren’t seen and then greeted her with a loose hug and showed her inside.
Meagan welcomed the smell of garlic and tomatoes in the air as she walked along the hallway. ‘Wow. Something smells good.’
‘Thank you; let me get you a drink.’ Oliver could feel the anxiety rise, his body shaking. Breathe Oliver, just breathe. He clenched his right fist into a tight ball to rid the temporary paralysis.
‘Red wine, please,’ said Meagan.
Standing by the drinks cabinet in the living room, he poured a large red wine.
She walked over towards the window, taking in the view of London at night. ‘Wow. That’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more magnificent.’
Oliver handed Meagan the tall glass. ‘It is pretty incredible, isn’t it? Sadly, the rent is unaffordable.’
‘Oh, Oliver, I love it. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.’
He walked up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She turned, smiling, the tension evident on her face. Oliver placed his drink on the coffee table, holding Meagan close, moving his head forward to kiss her.
She pulled back slowly, placing her finger on Oliver’s lips. ‘Not yet. Not until it’s done. It will give us something to look forward to, make it worthwhile.’
That rejection made Oliver want her all the more.
As they ate, Meagan scanned the living room, the high ceiling, thick white walls, a few Banksy pictures hanging low and a Formula One calendar. She took in the heavy shelves with images of Oliver and another woman and photos of Oliver’s family placed neatly to the front. The plain décor was warm and inviting, with oak beams on either side of the room. A large, curved plasma screen on a dark wooden stand was set in the middle of the wall with speakers on both sides.
She spooned the pasta into her mouth, jazz music playing in the background. ‘I could get used to this.’
Oliver looked up from his plate. He’d been spinning the food with his fork; his mind was confused. ‘How serious are you?’
Meagan paused for effect. ‘Deadly.’
‘Okay, what’s the plan? You want me to kill your husband? Why have you never done it?’
Meagan looked over her shoulder, towards the shelf filled with photos. ‘Who is that?’
‘She was my partner for two years. She just left one morning without an explanation.’
‘People can be cruel. Believe me, I should know. In answer to your question, I’ve never had the guts. I witnessed firsthand my mother… the abuse – no, not just abuse, the torture, the fucking living hell she went through each day. I swore I’d never let it happen to me, convinced myself I’d see it coming. Rob was kind in the beginning. When we first met, he drove a taxi. He picked me up from a wine bar and slipped me his number. He was good-looking, a real charmer. I agreed to go for a drink as friends as I was, like you, on the rebound. We had a great couple of months, the best restaurants, weekends away; he couldn’t do enough for me. We married quickly, but within a year, it all changed. It’s like he turned overnight. Now I’m just another pathetic victim like my mother.’
Oliver never let his eyes wander. He was listening to every word, sympathising with Meagan’s story, thinking, God, I want to be with her. ‘Okay, I’ll do it. I don’t want to make an issue of it, so when it’s done, we never talk about it again, understood?’
Her face lit up. ‘Understood.’
Meagan explained that her husband was due back from Spain tomorrow evening. She wanted it done fast, as soon as he returned.
Meagan would leave an autoinjector in the storeroom of the basement hall. The autoinjector would contain botulinum, an extremely fast-acting poison. She gave Oliver clear instructions where to find the autoinjector and described how to work it. The toxin would cause Rob immediate muscle paralysis, closing down his respiratory system leading to his death. She also told Oliver where to find apartment six. His instructions were clear. Break into apartment six, stab the autoinjector into her husband and leave.
She said, ‘I’ll be out; I can’t watch, I’m afraid, I’m not brave enough, Oliver. Besides, you’ll be able to concentrate on the job in hand. If, for whatever reason, you need me, you have my number. You know what you have to do.’
They finished their meal, then Oliver walked Meagan back to her apartment. As she waved goodbye, Oliver stood outside, struggling to curb the complete dread in the pit of his stomach.
6
Twenty years ago - Before the phone call
It was three days ago that Meagan had witnessed her father cruelly burn her mother with the gravy.
Meagan struggled to sleep. She would wake in the night, crying out, with visions of her father doing the same to her.
Tricia didn’t leave her bed. She’d developed the flu, with cold sweats and high temperature. Meagan frequently checked on her mother, making sure she had everything she needed.