Killer Couples (2 page)

The knot of tension in Rebecca Harris’ stomach was physical, palpable. It weighed her down, sapping her strength, getting in
the way of eating and sleeping. Stephen was still not giving up on this murder plan; it was all he ever talked about these days. It was as if he’d casually pushed a cannonball over the top of a hill and now it was thundering down, gaining momentum all the time, and she had no idea how she could stop it.

‘It’s OK,’ she kept telling herself. ‘He’ll change his mind at the last minute. And even if he doesn’t, I’ll just tell him I’m not doing it. There’s still plenty of time to get out of this.’

If only she could just shift that knot in her stomach, so that she could get a proper night’s sleep for once.

‘It’s all sorted. Everything’s set up.’ Stephen’s eyes were unnaturally bright, his body practically crackling with nervous energy.

Rebecca felt a dull thud of fear somewhere deep inside her. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.

Stephen could hardly contain himself. It was as though someone or something else had taken him over. ‘July 28th. It’s a Friday night and I know Jaz is going to be at home. We’ve both got that work do and then I’m going to make sure I’ve got an alibi straight afterwards. I’ll get Jas to leave the door open. You go into the bedroom and stab her in her sleep. It’ll be so straightforward – you won’t even see her.’

Now the mass in Rebecca’s stomach had expanded until it filled her head, pressing down on her brain.

‘I can’t, Steve,’ she faltered.

But then he was clutching her hands tight, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Don’t you love me, babe?’ he was saying. ‘Think of
our future, you and me together. Do it for us! Don’t you want us to be together?’

Of course she did. It was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. He was the first thing she thought about when she woke up and the last thing on her mind before she dropped off to sleep. But how could he ask her to do that, to risk everything?

But Stephen could tell she was wavering and so he stepped up the pressure, barraging her with calls and texts, painting a picture of the fantastic future they’d have once she was divorced from Ron and Jaspal was gone for good. He knew where Rebecca’s weakness was – her little boy, and he shamelessly played on that.

‘I’d bring him up like he was my own,’ he told her, in a phone call. ‘We’d be a proper family.’

For Rebecca Harris, who dreamed of starting afresh, this time with a match made for love, rather than for security, this was exactly what she’d been hoping for. They’d be together, all three of them, and her son would have the kind of lifestyle she’d never be able to give him on her own, or if Stephen divorced his wife.

And if she had any lingering thoughts about telling Stephen she’d changed her mind, his next statement soon chased them out of her head. ‘If you don’t do this, I’ll know you don’t really love me,’ he warned her. ‘Then we’re finished.’

Rebecca didn’t know if she’d want to go on living without Stephen in her life. It was as though he’d got into her skin, as if he ran in her very blood. She’d be a non-person without him, the walking dead.

‘I’ll do anything for you,’ she told him, wretchedly.

28 July 2006 was a Friday and also payday, and the staff at the 118 118 call centre were in a celebratory mood as they gathered after work in a city centre bar. Well, all except Stephen Marsh and Rebecca Harris.

The couple were standing away from the rest of the group and talking animatedly in low voices. By now, the other employees were all used to seeing Stephen and Rebecca whispering together. They were both married to other people but you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what was going on between them. Usually there was a lot of flirtatious banter with those two, but tonight both seemed preoccupied with something. Stephen was doing a lot of talking, and Rebecca looked paler than normal, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.

‘I can’t believe she let me down!’ Stephen was ranting about his former mistress, Natalie Yemm. He’d asked her if he could stay the night at her place and at first she’d said yes. Even though he’d ended their relationship the previous October when he started seeing Rebecca, they’d stayed friendly – but now she was saying she’d had second thoughts, just when he needed her most.

‘Pick up the phone, for God’s sake!’ he muttered under his breath as he dialled her mobile yet again, trying to persuade her to change her mind. But there was no reply. Nor was she responding to any of his texts.

For the first time, Rebecca allowed herself a small surge of
hope. Without an alibi for Stephen, they’d have to abort the whole plan. Sure, he’d be angry for a bit, but after a few drinks here with all their mates, he’d calm down. Maybe he’d even have reconsidered the whole thing by the next morning.

But even now he was scrolling through the contacts book on his mobile phone. Next on his list of potential alibis was Julie Owens, yet another ex-lover. And when that also proved fruitless, he approached a male friend of his. Bingo!

‘We’re on!’ he told Rebecca, excitedly.

The leaden mass in her stomach swelled until it was everywhere, pressing down on every part of her, leaving her unable to think, unable to breathe.

‘There’s still time to change my mind,’ she told herself. ‘I can still pull out any time I like.’

As their co-workers began to disperse, Stephen and Rebecca found themselves outside the bar.

‘Just do this, and tomorrow we could be starting a new life together,’ Stephen urged, pressing his mistress’s hand tightly.

Rebecca could hardly speak. Now, the feeling of nausea that had been slowly building over the evening was threatening to overwhelm her and something strange was happening to her brain. It was as though she could register what Stephen was saying to her but it wasn’t quite going in. She felt removed from reality; as though she was sitting apart from herself, but watching herself go through the motions of living and breathing.

Settling in behind the steering wheel of her Mazda, she could
see her hand turn the ignition key, and she dutifully looked in the mirror before pulling out, but it still felt like someone else was doing all those things, someone separate. And it was that same separate person who turned the car away from her normal route home to Clos Rhedyn in Cwmrhydyceirw, Morriston, and towards Gorseinon. She was just going to drive past the house, she told herself; she wasn’t actually going to do anything.

In the Potters Wheel Pub in Swansea, Stephen’s friend Andy was getting fed up. Why had Stephen made such a big fuss about meeting up tonight and asked to stay over if all he was going to do was sit there, sending text messages? He’d already sent several to one number.

Right now he was sending one to his wife. As his fingers punched the letters on his keypad, Stephen’s face bore an expression of intense concentration mixed with something else. Excitement? Anticipation? Dread?

He was having a drink with a friend, he told her, but would be home later. ‘Just leave the front door open and I’ll get a lift home. Love you. xxx’.

Of course, what she didn’t know was that by failing to lock the front door from the inside as she normally did, Jaspal was effectively signing her own death warrant.

Rebecca Harris swung the Mazda into Howard’s Way, Gorseinon. Such a classy neighbourhood, so peaceful and orderly – it would be a great place for a child to grow up, the streets quiet enough to ride bikes or play football safely. Even
now, well after midnight, it didn’t feel threatening at all. You just couldn’t imagine anything bad happening in a place like this.

As she parked outside number 25, Rebecca’s phone beeped. Another text from Stephen, promising her that the front door would be open, and that everything would be straightforward. ‘You can do it,’ he urged. ‘You are strong enough.’

But Rebecca wasn’t feeling especially strong now. Her heart was thudding so hard that it felt like her ribcage might shatter under the pressure, but her mind was still disassociated, observing her own actions as if watching a character on TV.

Of course she wasn’t actually going to go through with it. She was still just play-acting, getting an idea of how it would feel to approach Stephen’s home, to really be about to kill someone…

Thud, thud, thud… Rebecca watched her own hand close around the door handle. Click. The door was unlocked, just as Stephen had promised. Silently, she let herself into the hall, starting as something came towards her through the darkness.

For a split second, she froze, every muscle tensed, each nerve tingling. Then she relaxed, releasing the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. It was only Bwbach. The old dog, recognising her from previous visits, ambled forwards to greet her, tail wagging, delighted to have some company in the quiet of the night.

As the dog nuzzled her hand, for a few seconds Rebecca stood motionless, listening for any noises from upstairs. Nothing.

Softly, she edged down the hall, remembering all those other times she’d been there before with Stephen, barely managing to
get through the front door before ripping one another’s clothes off, desire getting the better of caution in this Neighbourhood Watch community. How different it all felt tonight, alone in the unfamiliar darkness, an intruder rather than a guest.

Creeping into the kitchen, she made her way to the knife block on the counter. Even though it was pitch black, she knew exactly where to find it, of course. She’d watched Stephen numerous times as he ran his fingers over the knife handles, weighing up which one to choose before pulling out the knife he’d want them to use in bed. This time too he’d made the selection for her, sending her a text with instructions to pick out the biggest knife, the one with the 8-inch blade they’d used so many times before during sex. The knife felt familiar as Rebecca held it loosely in her hand. Better the devil you know, and all that, she thought…

Jaspal Marsh tossed fitfully in the double bed she shared with her husband. Though it was late, she just couldn’t sleep. That evening, she’d tried her best to relax, talking to a relative on the phone, vegging out on the sofa in front of
Big Brother
, but still she couldn’t shake off a vague sense of unease.

It wasn’t to do with being alone in the house. Really, Stephen was out so much these days, she ought to be used to being on her own by now. And if the two of them were ever to split up, this was something she was going to have to accustom herself to.

Thinking she might have heard something downstairs, Jaspal lay very still, listening intently. Then she relaxed as she
recognised the rhythmic thud of Bwbach’s tail hitting the wall. The old dog must be dreaming of chasing rabbits or something. She’d been worried for a moment, though. Honestly, the next time Stephen told her to leave the door unlocked, she was just going to refuse. It just put her on edge and it wasn’t fair. Why should she be the one to lose sleep just because he was out enjoying himself? Next time she’d lock it and he could just sleep outside on the doorstep for all she cared.

Thud, thud, thud! Rebecca’s heart sounded so loudly in her ears, she was sure Stephen’s wife would be able to hear it. She still couldn’t quite believe it was her, creeping up the stairs in someone else’s house, knife in hand. Surely it was a scene out of a low-budget horror film, not real life – certainly not
her
life. Soon, any second now, she’d wake up from whatever trance she was in and stop what she was doing, horrified at how far she’d gone. She imagined the relief of finding herself outside that house, not caught red-handed breaking into someone else’s home, not a potential murderess, just plain Rebecca Harris who’d almost let things get out of hand but had come to her senses just in time.

All of a sudden, the mobile phone she’d been carrying along with the knife lit up. A message: from Stephen, of course.

‘Do it. Just do it!’ read the text.

She had her instructions.

This time Jaspal was sure there had been a noise but she didn’t have time to think about it before the door to the bedroom
inched open. If she had been expecting a balaclava-clad burglar then she was very wrong. The person peering uncertainly into the dark bedroom was a young woman. She had something in her hand, something long and thin that glinted where it caught the shaft of moonlight seeping in through the drawn curtains.

Jaspal knew she didn’t have much time. If she stayed where she was, she’d be attacked in bed. All she had going for her now was the element of surprise.

‘Aaaaaargh!’

Jumping up from the bed, she flew at the intruder, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Rebecca was terrified. She’d been expecting to find a sleeping victim, but instead here was this shrieking banshee tearing at her skin and clothes, pushing her backwards against the chest of drawers. Without pausing to think, she lunged forward with the knife, again and again and again…

‘It’s not me,’ she kept thinking to herself as she felt the other woman grow weaker and then slump to the ground, the knife still buried up to its hilt in her chest. ‘This isn’t me doing this, it’s someone else. This nightmare is happening to someone else.’

She just caught a glimpse of Jaspal Marsh’s glassy, staring eyes before she raced headlong down the stairs, thoughts of her son and Stephen jostling through her head.

Flinging open the front door, she ignored Bwbach’s reproachful whine as she fled without a goodbye pat, gulping in the fresh night air. Back in the car and speeding away from the house, she felt a mixture of dread and fear and exhilaration. At
one level she knew she’d done something so monumental that her life would never be the same again, but on another level, she was just so glad to be free of that house, with its suffocating darkness, where spectres came flying out of nowhere, scratching at your clothes and pulling at your hair.

Her fingers were still trembling from the adrenaline and the fear when she typed out a message to her lover, using their
pre-agreed
code to let him know it was all done.