The next search yielded a curious result. I deleted the number in the Google search box and typed it in again more carefully, assuming it was a mistake. But no: the second search gave exactly the same result. I clicked on the first link.

VIP Escort Services. Male and female escorts available, complete discretion assured. Highly reputable service – thousands of satisfied customers. Choose from our range of escorts and call now . . .

Below a paragraph of introductory text the rest of the homepage was taken up with inviting pictures of pretty women and well-groomed men in various states of undress. Anya, 24. Matty, 31, Billie, 28. I sat back in the chair. In a week of horrible surprises, here was another: Mel had the number for an escort agency stored in her secret phone. From what I could work out, clicking around the site, it was like an online brothel – you hired someone for an hour or two, or dinner, or all night, and met them for sex. At your own house, or a hotel.

VIP Escort Services is a social companionship escort agency dedicated to providing the very best in personal dating, to delight clients of all ages, persuasions and backgrounds.

I stood up, paced the kitchen for a minute. Put the kettle on and thought about what Mel had said to me on Sunday, when she had confessed to the affair. I was bored. The same routine, every day. Work, commute, home, bed. It was exciting, different. There seemed to be three possibilities: either Mel had played the field before she met Ben, or she was still playing the field behind his back, or they liked to get a third party involved every now and again. For some reason, the third possibility seemed the most likely.

So they’d got someone else involved. A threesome. Man? Woman? That would depend on Ben’s tastes.

This wasn’t helping. Move on.

The other landline numbers produced no results on Google, which meant they were either ex-directory or were internal company numbers that – for whatever reason – did not appear on any public web page, anywhere. But it would be easy enough to find out what they were.

Deleting the iPad’s search history, I tucked the list of numbers into my wallet.

I had some calls to make tomorrow.

Wednesday

WEDNESDAY

Chapter 50

50

I woke at 5 a.m. and couldn’t get back to sleep. My mind was churning, exploring every possibility as I watched a sliver of pre-dawn sky fade from ink black to slate grey. After an hour I got up and made coffee, pacing the kitchen, doing chores, checking Facebook, checking the local TV news on the early bulletin to see if there was anything about Ben. I found the Post-it note I’d taken from Ben’s study and googled STEB on my phone to see what the acronym might stand for.

Security Tamper-Evident Bags used for duty free goods at airports.

The State Tax Equalization Board of Pennsylvania.