7

brENDA

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It was a long and slow weekend, the kind I’ve sadly become accustomed to since losing Paul. Most people wouldn’t complain about the weekend dragging on because anything has to be better than being back in the office on a Monday, right?

Not so for me. I’m looking forward to getting into work.

Or at least I was until I saw what was waiting for me there.

The first hint that something is wrong comes after I have used my access card to enter the building, which is when I spot several of my colleagues standing around in the reception area. They should be heading to the elevators rather than congregating by the Christmas tree, so I wonder what is happening.

It can’t be another round of Secret Santa because that was on Friday.

So what is it?

As I step closer, I hear lots of murmuring, and bizarrely, it sounds like somebody is weeping. Then I hear somebody enquiring if the police have been called. It’s all very strange, and I’m just about to ask a colleague what is happening when I see it for myself.

When I do, I gasp.

As my hands come up to cover my mouth that hangs wide open in horror, my eyes stare at the two bodies lying beneath the Christmas tree. I recognise them instantly, despite the fact they aren’t wearing any clothing and have blood on their naked bodies. It’s not how I have ever seen this pair before, but I know exactly who they are.

It’s Michael and Nat.

‘There’s no pulse,’ Kirsty says solemnly, and I turn to look at my best friend who I hadn’t even noticed was here until she spoke. ‘They’ve both been checked, and they’re both dead.’

‘Oh my God,’ is all I can muster, and that seems to be the sentiment that sums up this awful discovery because as more people arrive, they say exactly the same thing.

‘The police are on their way,’ I hear a male voice say behind me, but I don’t turn around. I wish I could, but my eyes are stuck on the deceased pair beneath the tree.

‘What happened?’ I ask Kirsty, as if she might have any idea, though she quickly assures me she does not.

‘I don’t know. We just came in and found them like this. They might have been here all weekend.’

‘All weekend?’ I cry, thinking back to Friday, when I left this office.

That was the day we played Secret Santa.

The day we all exchanged gifts.

The day I left those photos on Mariah’s desk.

I’ve spent most of the weekend regretting what I did, second guessing my decision to tell her and wondering what the consequences of it might be. But now I can see those consequences with my own eyes, it’s obvious that I made a big mistake telling her what her husband was doing behind her back.

I mean, this has to be her, right? She killed them when she discovered the affair, didn’t she?

I don’t know the grim details of how she was able to kill them both and leave their bodies beneath this tree, but it must have been her.

She had the motive.

But does anybody else know that but me?

‘Where’s Mariah?’ I ask Kirsty quietly.

‘Nobody has seen her yet,’ comes the reply. ‘That poor woman. What a horrible way for her husband to go.’

‘You don’t think she already knows?’ I ask, turning to my friend and frowning because to me this is obvious.

‘No. She’s not here, is she?’ Kirsty replies.

‘They must have been having an affair,’ I say then, gesturing to the dead pair.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, look at them. They’re both naked.’

‘The killer could have left them like that.’

Suddenly, two police officers enter the building, and they immediately tell us all to stand back.

My workplace has now become a major crime scene, and a murder investigation is underway.

I already know who the prime suspect should be. But do the police know?

Where is Mariah, and how does she plan to get away with this?

Worst of all, am I reason this has happened?