“Not going on a killing spree, are you?” he asked. “I know this is your favorite MO.” Finally, he ate it, after first swapping his plate with mine, then saying, “Double bluff” and swapping them back. I wanted to tell him that he needn’t have worried: Revenge was a dish best served cold and that little bowl of pasta was piping hot.
Afterward, we decamped to the lounge to watch the local news. That evening, Lennie was a much smaller item, just a reminder that he was still missing and that the police would like to thank everyone so far who had provided camera footage; they were currently reviewing it all.
Then I had a thought: “James, we haven’t taken the dashcam out of the Audi.”
“Shit!”
Who would have thought there was so much to think of in the aftermath of a hit-and-run? The body had proved to be the least of our problems; there were cameras, phones, bags, and damaged cars to consider, all while acting normally. Next time, I’d draw up a checklist first. Not that there would be a next time. Unless the victim was James, which was something to think about. But I cast that thought aside. I had to concentrate on the matter in hand. We went running out to the garage to retrieve the camera.
Back in the house, James logged onto his laptop.
“Do you want to see it?” he asked. “Your best bits?”
No, I didn’t, but he downloaded the dashcam footage anyway and played it back. You could hear me trying to get him to look at the ghost in the back seat as we wended our way toward the country lane. You could see the tail lights of the bus disappearing around the corner and Lennie at the side of the road—so maybe I did have time to notice him. He started to cross. At the same time, you could hear James’s yelp as he pulled the sun visor down and the spider fell out, then a split second later, Lennie’s horrified expression as he flew toward the windshield. The dashcam had a much better view than I had had from behind the airbag, and you could clearly see the horror on his face. For a time I was back in that moment, and I had to sit down.
If only I’d remembered to take that spider out. Or to play the trick when I first set it up. If only I hadn’t forgotten about it.
“Any news on the phone?” James asked me, and I shook my head. “Keep an eye out for it. We’ll get rid of the Audi this weekend.”
As simple as that. An accident had happened, but it was being cleared up. It seemed wrong that such a big event could be laid torest so easily, but I kept reminding myself that, once the immediate danger had passed, I would carry out some kind of penance for this.
***
James woke me before 2:00 a.m. on Saturday morning.
“Rise and shine,” he said. “We’re going to the seaside.”
And he made me get up and dress and pack, as if for a day at the coast, although being only April, we didn’t go for full beachwear.
“Bring these,” he said, and he handed me the earrings my mum had given me for my twenty-first birthday. Puzzled, I started putting them on, but James said, “Leave them in the box.”
“What for?”
“You’ll see.”
When we were ready, we climbed into the battered Audi. James told me to put the earrings in the glove compartment, then we drove, on dipped headlights, for more than an hour and a half to Brean Down, on the coast.
There, we drove the car off the road, onto the footpath, where cars are not supposed to go, and up to the top of the cliff. It was only just wide enough for the Audi, but at least we didn’t have to worry anymore about the paintwork getting scratched. Then we went along the clifftop, which was slightly easier than the path but terrifying in case we made a mistake and went over the edge. Eventually, we stopped where the water below was deep. James took a cloth out of his pocket and wiped our fingerprints off everything he could think of. Then we got out and he wiped the doorhandles.
“Shouldn’t our fingerprints be on our own car?” I asked.
“Not if we’re going to say it was stolen and there are no one else’s prints on it.”
Then he reached inside, took the handbrake off, said, “Wrap your hands in your sleeves when you touch anything,” and he made me help him push it off the cliff into the sea.
“My earrings!” I shouted, remembering them as it went over the edge.
“Exactly,” James said. “When we report it as stolen, we can say it had items with sentimental value inside. It’ll make it sound more convincing.”
“But my mum gave them to me.”
“Yes, so we didn’t have to sacrifice an expensive pair. Win-win.”
I didn’t have words. They were the most valuable I had, worth more than all the jewelry he’d bought me combined. I hated him, I hated him,I hated him. If we’d been nearer the edge at that moment I would’ve tried to shove him over too. And I’d have told the police what I’d done, and I’d have told them why.
We walked down to the seaside and stayed out of view as we watched the sun come up and the town come to life. Then we walked up and down side streets, and James chose a place to tell the police we’d parked it when he reported it as stolen later that day, a spot that was secluded and untroubled by CCTV.
“They’ll only give us a crime number anyway; they won’t investigate it,” he promised me, and that promise came true.
