Dead Simple

did you say?’
    ‘I understand you arranged for a coffin.’
    ‘I don’t know anything at all about a coffin!’ Mark exclaimed. ‘That’s a new one on me.’ Trying to sound really surprised he said again, for emphasis, ‘ Coffin? ’
    ‘Do you think your friends organized this in your absence?’ the journalist asked.
    ‘Absolutely. Must have done. One of them, Robert Houlihan, works – worked – for his uncle, an undertaker – but we never discussed a coffin. Are you sure about this?’
    ‘I’m informed by the police they believe there was a coffin in the van – before the accident. Can you think what might have happened to Michael Harrison?’
    ‘No, I have no idea. I’m desperately worried.’
    ‘I spoke yesterday to the widow of one of your friends. Mrs Zoe Walker. She said you were all planning to get revenge on Michael Harrison because he regularly played pranks on the rest of you. Might the coffin have something to do with that?’
    ‘As I said, I don’t know anything about the coffin. It sounds like some last-minute idea.’
    ‘Do you think your mates might have put Michael Harrison into the coffin and that he’s stuck somewhere?’
    Mark thought hard before responding. ‘Listen, you know how it is when a bunch of guys get drunk. Sometimes they do crazy things.’
    ‘Been there myself.’
    They both chuckled. Mark felt a tad relieved.
    ‘Well, thank you for your time. If you hear anything, perhaps you’d be kind enough to let me know, if I give you my number?’
    ‘Of course,’ he said, looking around for a pen.
    As Mark stood in the lift a few minutes later, he was thinking about the conversation, hoping to hell he hadn’t said anything stupid, and worrying how Ashley would react if she saw him quoted in the paper. She’d be furious that he’d even spoken to them. But what choice did he have?
    Driving up the ramp of the car park, he turned cautiously into the street, made a left turn, then eased out into the heavy Saturday-evening traffic, being careful to keep his speed down, knowing he must be over the legal limit. The last thing he needed was to be stopped and breathalysed.
    Twenty minutes later he reached the car park of the garden centre at the back of Newhaven, the Channel port ten miles from his apartment. With little time to spare before its 8 p.m. closing time, he made a rapid dash through the store, buying a spade, screwdriver, hammer, chisel, small Maglite flashlight, rubber gardening gloves and a pair of gum boots. By eight he was back in his car, in the almost deserted lot. The sky was surprisingly clear and it would be a good couple of hours yet before it was completely dark – if then.
    Two hours that he had to kill.
    He knew he should eat something, but his stomach was all knotted up. He thought about a burger, a Chinese, an Indian. Nothing appealed. Ashley was angry at him; he’d never seen her angry before and it distressed and scared him. It was as if some connection between them had been switched off. He had to switch it back on and the only way was to appease her. Do what she said. Do what he had known for several days that he needed to do.
    He wanted to call her, tell her he loved her, hear her tell him she loved him back. But she wasn’t going to do that, not now, not yet. She was right to be mad at him; he’d been an idiot, nearly blown everything. Christ, why the hell had be been so stupid with that cop?
    He started the engine and the radio came on. Eight o’clock. The local station news. First an international story, more bad stuff about Iraq. Then an item about Tony Blair and the European Union. Then his ears stiffened as the chirpy newscaster said, ‘Sussex Police are stepping up their search for Brighton property developer Michael Harrison. His fiancée, Ashley Harper, and their guests were tragically disappointed when he failed to turn up at All Saints’ church, Patcham, this afternoon for his wedding, confirming suspicions that he is incapacitated following the stag night prank that left four of his best friends dead. Detective Superintendent Roy Grace of the Sussex CID, who is now leading the enquiry into Michael Harrison’s whereabouts, said this morning that the police were upgrading their search from a missing persons enquiry into a Serious Incident Investigation.’
    Mark turned the volume of the radio up louder, and caught the Detective Superintendent’s voice.
    ‘We believe that Michael Harrison may be the victim of a prank that