Page 24 of Perfect Wives
‘I’m Georgie Bell,’ I say. ‘This is my husband, Nate. Is something wrong?’
He nods, pulling a small notebook from the pocket on his vest. ‘Does anyone else live at the property?’
‘We have a son,’ I say, frowning. ‘Oscar. He’s eight. Why? What’s going on?’
Nate’s already stepping forward. ‘Is this about Jonny?’ he asks.
PC Henshaw’s expression shifts – something tightens in his jaw. He looks directly at Nate, steady and grave. ‘I’m very sorry to inform you…your neighbour, Jonathan Wilson, was found dead earlier this evening.’
Jonny is dead.
The words tumble through my head, bouncing off the edges, trying to find a place to settle.
Dead.
There should be something – shock, horror, sadness. Anything. But my body won’t move. My mind just…stills.
And then it hits me.Relief.
It surges through me like a wave breaking free. My legs wobble slightly with the sudden lifting of something I didn’t even realise had been so heavy.
Since Jonny moved to Magnolia Close, he made his intentions crystal clear. He wanted me, and he didn’t give a damn that I was married. Didn’t care I hated his guts either. And underneath that leering was the knowledge that with one conversation, he could’ve exposed the past I’ve worked so hard to keep hidden. Because Jonny didn’t just walk into my lifeeighteen months ago when he bought the house at number two. He’d already been in it a long time before…
THIRTEEN
GEORGIE
‘He’s dead?’ I ask. It’s not that I don’t believe it – more that I want to be sure.
PC Henshaw gives a grave nod. ‘I’m very sorry if this is upsetting for you, but we’re now going door to door to establish a timeline for his death. Were you close to the deceased?’
I shake my head at the same time as Nate nods. ‘We were friends,’ my husband says. ‘We played golf regularly and hung out at social events.’
There’s a need rising in me to correct Nate. To backtrack and brush over. To tell PC Henshaw that it was only golf once or twice a month, and the social events four times a year. Hardly besties. Hardly worth noting down our names or any connection we had to Jonny. But I keep the words pinned inside. I have a habit of rambling when I’m nervous, but Nate hates it when I speak over him or correct him. It’s one of the few things we’ve argued about during our marriage.
‘And when did you both last see Mr Wilson?’ the officer asks.
I swallow, trying to grab hold of my thoughts.Breathe, Georgie.
‘I saw him arrive home yesterday,’ I say as heat prickles my skin, burning me from the inside out. ‘I was on my way out to theschool. We were hosting a PTA quiz night, and I was setting up for that.’ I grit my teeth, force myself not to say more.
PC Henshaw scribbles something in his notebook. ‘Time?’
‘Around six.’
Beside me, Nate clears his throat. ‘I had a text exchange with him after that. He wished me a good night at the quiz. That was around seven. I asked him if he wanted to play golf at the weekend, but he didn’t reply.’
‘And this quiz,’ PC Henshaw asks. ‘It was yesterday evening? You were both there?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘Most of Magnolia Close were there too. It was a fundraising event for the local school.’
‘I came back with a couple of the neighbours around nine thirty – Alistair Smith from number three and Marc Carter from number twelve. Georgie stayed to tidy up.’
‘I got back about eleven with Beth Smith and Tasha Carter,’ I confirm.
The officer makes another note.
‘How did he die?’ Nate asks.
