Only We Know by Karen Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

bed and
     he fell over and smashed a glass coffee-table or what-not, gave himself a nasty gash in
     the process but was so drunk he barely felt it, then decided in the wisdom of his
     inebriation that he’d be best off taking himself elsewhere before herself woke up
     and saw the mess. He could at this very moment be happily bleeding out on the floor of
     some whorehouse in the city.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ I say flatly, staring
     out the window.
    It’s been a while since I’ve
     been out in this neck of the woods, and the place feels kind of sleepy this morning as
     the car noses around sharp bends through narrow streets. A misty drizzle is coming in
     off the bay although there is a little heat still in the air, making it muggy and close.
     I take in the tall walls and heavy gates with intercoms that line both sides of the
     road, the houses tucked away from prying eyes. The place seems so snug and safe, that it
     seems hard to imagine any kind of violence happening behind the closed doors – no
     domestic nightmares, no fists raised, no black dogs rubbing against walls done in
     expensive paint.
    Reilly pulls up outside the house where a
     small scrum has formed. I can pick out at least three hacks I recognize.Magnolias in full bloom flank the gate, and behind it, a
     short distance from the road, sits a glass and concrete monstrosity. Massive windows,
     black frames around reflective glass, white walls dazzling, despite the grey
     weather.
    ‘No sign of the weeping widow
     then,’ Reilly says, peering out through the windscreen.
    For a moment, we stare up at the mansion,
     and for the first time since this started, I think about the scene inside that house:
     the plush carpet splattered with blood, the broken glass, the terror …
    ‘You all set?’
    I nod, but the truth is I feel like shit.
     Coffee has made my stomach churn and my eyes are dry from lack of sleep. The thought of
     violence has left me feeling queasy.
    ‘Thanks for the lift, Reilly,’ I
     say, leaning across to plant a kiss on his bristly cheek before collecting myself into
     some semblance of professionalism and sliding out of the seat.
    I join the others at the gate, where a burly
     guy with a neck like a rhino’s is holding up his hands and imploring those
     gathered there to disband and give Mrs Yates some privacy. He has broad shoulders and a
     cool-eyed, strong-jawed appearance. Dealing with all the pestering queries looks like a
     penance to him. The questions are all the same:
Has Luke Yates been found yet?
     What’s the story with his missus? Is it true the place is awash with
     blood?
(This from the tabloid hack, always on the sniff for gore.) After a
     while, he stops answering, closes the gate behind him and withdraws to the house. The
     rain gets heavier, and some of the rubberneckers peel away, the hacks too. I’m
     considering whether it’s worth my while to knock on the doors ofthe neighbouring fortresses in search of anything worth
     printing, but the high walls bristling with security cameras tell me to save my shoe
     leather.
    Reilly has gone, so the logical thing is to
     catch a train back into the city, yet I feel the desire to linger for a while. I walk
     through the rain to the strip of beach that runs along the backs of the houses. I have
     no hood, no umbrella, but the rain is not heavy and the air is warm, and the quiet hush
     of the sea calms me, settling my troubled mind.
    The weather was much like this the last time
     I saw Nick, a year ago. A grey day in Dublin, a crowd of mourners spilling out of a
     church, flecks of rain falling. Luke and Julia were standing on the church steps to
     greet us as if it was their wedding we’d just attended, not Sally’s funeral.
     And there was Nick, some way off, standing with his hands in his pockets next to the
     hearse, listening to the conversation of an older man I didn’t recognize. There
     was something so forlorn about him, but when I stepped towards him and he raised