Page 53 of The Psychopath Next Door

‘Of course I’m interested. But I need to see it.’

Rodney Clough was the biggest collector of Beatles records and memorabilia in the Greater London area. His house, Octopus Gardens – a huge, heavily guarded place in Dulwich Village – was stuffed full of it. Every record they’d ever released, in multiple formats. Shelves full of plastic models and dolls and bric-a-brac. Posters and ticket stubs and signed photographs covered the walls. A beautiful Yellow Submarine jukebox sat in the corner of the living room.

I had visited his house once and marvelled at all this stuff, though I hadn’t been allowed to touch any of it. I also hadn’t been permitted into the vault, an airtight basement room where all the really good stuff was kept. Rodney, who had made his fortune developing and operating car parks, had acquired several of George Harrison’s guitars and a bass that Paul had played onstage in Hamburg, along with handwritten lyrics, rare acetates of early singles, various items of clothing that Ringo Starr had worn on album covers, and, reportedly, the actual copy ofThe Catcher in the Ryethat Mark Chapman had been carrying when he shot John Lennon.

Rodney and I were sitting in the back office of the shop. Now in his late sixties, Rodney was out of shape and found it hard towalk more than ten metres without breathing heavily and having to mop his brow with a handkerchief.

‘Do you not already have a first-issue copy ofYesterday and Today?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes. But mine isn’t sealed. Also, I don’t want that bastard Takahoshi getting hold of it, do I?’ Yukio Takahoshi, a Kent-based, Japan-born shipping tycoon, was Rodney’s biggest rival. I knew that their bitter enmity towards each other had forced up the price of many unique pieces of memorabilia as they fought to outbid each other. ‘You haven’t contacted him, have you?’

‘No.’ I paused. ‘Not yet.’

In the tiny office, surrounded by boxes of records and piles of paperwork, I could smell his perspiration. ‘I’ll give you thirty grand for it, cash, if it’s genuine and I can take it away today.’

‘Hmm. I think she was looking for forty.’

Rodney hated Yukio so much that I knew I could force him up at least a little.

‘You wanker.’ He wiped his brow. ‘Thirty-five, final offer. If we can go and look at it now.’

We took his car. He had a driver who was waiting around the corner in a black Bentley. I had half expected him to have a Beatles-themed car – a customised Rolls-Royce like the one Lennon had owned, perhaps – but it was quite exciting enough getting into the Bentley, which had tinted windows and attracted stares as it glided through Croydon towards my house.

‘Nice place to raise a family,’ Rodney commented when we entered the estate. ‘I bet your kids appreciate what you do for them, don’t they? I sent my lot to Dulwich College, one of the most expensive schools in the bloody world, and are they grateful? Are they hell. Between you, me and Tyler here, I’m going to leave all my stuff to a museum. Wish I could be there to see their faces when the will is read out.’

He chuckled to himself, and I told Tyler to take a left.

‘Iris’s house is just on the right, there. We’re ...’

I stopped.

‘What is it?’ Rodney asked as we pulled over to the kerb.

But I wasn’t looking at Iris’s house. My attention had been grabbed by my own, across the road.

Why was Emma’s car parked outside? She ought to be at work now. Was she sick? Was something wrong with the kids? No, Dylan was at a friend’s house and Rose was out with Fiona. Perhaps Emma had popped back to get something.

But whose was the car parked in front of hers? It was a dark grey Land Rover, not a rare sight around these parts, but I’d never seen it outside my house before.

‘So where does this old dear live?’ Rodney was asking. ‘I’m very keen to get a proper look at this treasure.’

I wasn’t listening closely enough to respond. I was too busy watching as the front door of my house opened and a man emerged, followed by Emma. They stood on the front path for a minute, not noticing the Bentley, though they wouldn’t have been able to see through its tinted windows anyway. Emma had no idea that I was there, watching her stand there with our former neighbour, Mike. The man with whom Emma had formed an emotional bond that had come very close to an affair.

They put their arms around each other and hugged, then Mike – with a smile on his face that made me want to punch him – walked to his car, got in and started the engine. Emma watched him drive away, lifting a hand to wave before her own smile was replaced by a look of utter sadness as he vanished from sight. Her shoulders drooped and she looked like she was going to cry as she walked to her car and got behind the wheel. Almost immediately, she drove away, presumably back to work.

‘Ethan?’ Rodney demanded. ‘What’s going on? Who was that? Oh my word, was that your wife? With another man?’ He shook his head. ‘My ex-missus cheated on me too – with the guy who installed our third bathroom, if you can believe that. A bloody plumber. He even had the cheek to invoice me afterwards.’

He kept rambling on but I had stopped listening. I needed air. In a daze, I opened the door and got out. Rodney appeared beside me, still chuntering on, and then Iris appeared, shaking me out of my stupor and forcing me to engage. We headed over to Iris’s house, even though rare records were the last thing on my mind now. I was on autopilot as I watched Rodney don a pair of gloves and inspect the album, turning it over in his hands, squinting at the price sticker that was still on it.

All I could think about was Emma with Mike. Mike coming out of my house after a lunchtime rendezvous. Had they had sex in our house? What else could they have been doing? I suddenly felt horribly sick, excusing myself to go to the bathroom, where I stood hunched over the toilet bowl. Nothing came out.

When I went back, Rodney and Iris were shaking hands.

‘Thirty-eight thousand pounds,’ Rodney said. ‘Done.’

Iris was clearly a better negotiator than I was.

Rodney said, ‘Wait here,’ then went back to his car. I was still finding it impossible to concentrate.

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