by A K Reynolds
Kylie Wood
I’d thought this might shine some light on why people had been killed in a particular order, but was unable to make either rhyme or reason of it. It was probably just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If things had worked out differently, I’d be one of the crossed-out names by now, the first one on the list. It was pure good luck which had spared my miserable life, the only good luck, it seemed, I’d ever had.
Given that four of us were left, it occurred to me we ought to get together and compare notes, maybe try to fight whatever we were up against as a team. I didn’t really want to work with Mike and Kylie, as I didn’t much care for them, but I decided if that’s what it took to prolong my life, I could get on board with the idea.
I called Kylie. Her mobile went straight to the answering service so I left a message, ‘Kylie, these people who are after us, the nutters that Seth got on the wrong side of. Can we talk about it? Maybe there’s something we can do to stop them. It’s worth discussing, anyway.’
As I hung up, I wondered if she was dead already and that’s why she hadn’t answered. I picked up my pen and put a question mark next to Kylie’s name.
I tried Danny with the same result, so I put a question mark next to his name, too.
When I called Mike Stone he picked up immediately.
‘Jaz,’ he said, ‘I haven’t heard from you in quite a while. We didn’t get to talk at the reunion. How are you?’
‘I’m a barrel of laughs, Mike.’
He laughed uneasily. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘let’s cut to the chase. There must be a reason you’re calling me.’ Mike wasn’t one for wasting time on small talk.
‘You’re right. I think you know what it is.’
There was a pause so pregnant it could have been an elephant about to give birth. ‘Yes,’ he said after a while. ‘I think I do.’
‘I’d like us to meet up. Maybe we could come up with a way to protect ourselves,’ I said.
‘I can’t see how, but I’m willing to listen to what you have to say. You could come round to my place tomorrow morning to discuss it.’
‘Yes, okay, I will, thank you.’
‘About 11am?’
‘That works for me.’
‘Good, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.’
He hung up, and I felt marginally better for having talked to him. I had the feeling I was taking, or trying to take, control of events, rather than just letting things happen to me. Maybe I should treat myself to some wine? Maybe not. I fought the urge with all I had. It was probably a losing battle but I didn’t get to find out – my mobile rang, putting an end to my thoughts about wine. There was no name on the screen – it was a number I didn’t know.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Hi!’ It was a youthful male voice, and whoever was speaking, he sounded in good cheer, unlike me.
‘Who is it?’ I snapped, wondering, for a moment, if it might be someone out to kill me.
‘It’s Jake, don’t you remember?’
Of course, Jake. How stupid and paranoid of me to think my murderer was calling me on my mobile.
‘Jake,’ I said, ‘it’s good to hear from you.’
The truth was, it wasn’t good to hear from him but I was so mightily relieved it was him who was calling me, and not someone sinister, that, to some small extent, his call was a welcome one.
‘Hey, I’m glad you feel that way. Listen, I’m at a loose end tonight. How about we get together?’
I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or acutely embarrassed. While I wasn’t quite old enough to be Jake’s mother, I certainly wasn’t in his age bracket, not by a long shot. I was reminded of television documentaries I’d seen about May-to-December relationships. They were toe-curling, as they featured deranged old men clinging to absurdly young women, and deranged old women clinging to absurdly young men. I could be lining myself up to be one of them. There were other things to consider: If I met him, what would we have in common? What could we discuss? Would people look at us, and think I was a cradle-snatcher? And what future could we possibly have, given the age difference?
Then I thought: bollocks to that, I’m on a downer and I need cheering up. ‘Yeah, sure, why not?’
‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic!’
‘Sorry, I’ve been going through a bad patch lately.’
‘You can tell me all about it tonight.’
No I can’t, I thought. ‘It’s a long story. Where do you want to meet, and when?’
‘How about 7.30pm at The Grape and Grain?’
‘Okay, see you there.’
I had a couple of hours in which to get ready. I showered and changed, and took extra care over my make-up in an attempt to make myself look younger, or at the very least more presentable.
Perhaps inevitably, I drank too much while I was out with Jake and woke up remembering little or nothing of the evening. At least I woke up in my own bed. The bad news was, Jake was in it with me. I’d have preferred him not to be. He was spark out, so maybe he’d overdone it as well.
I got up and took a shower, then put on some clothes and shook him until he woke up.
‘I have to go somewhere this morning,’ I said. ‘I’ll make you a coffee then we’ll have to part company.’
He rubbed his eyes. ‘Okay, got you.’
I went to the kitchen thinking about what I was going to say to Mike later in the morning. Jake soon joined me. ‘What’s this list all about?’ he asked.
I had my back to him and didn’t know what he was referring to. ‘What list?’
‘Charlie Duggan,’ he said, ‘Stuart Foss, Seth Delaney, Jasmine Black, Mike Stone, Danny Scott, Kylie Wood. Why are some of these names crossed out? And why is there a question mark next to your name, and next to Danny Scott and Kylie Wood, whoever they are?’
I turned and saw he had my notepad in his hands. This wasn’t a discussion I felt I could have with him, or with anyone not connected with what remained of our group.
‘I was planning a party.’
‘Aren’t I invited?’
‘Wait and see. I’ve only just started making the list.’
I put a mug of coffee in front of him, praying to God he’d drink it quick and go. I was beginning to think I’d made a terrible mistake. A relationship with a nineteen-year-old – what had I been thinking? Plus, I had to get over to Mike’s place for 11am.
‘What kind of party is it?’
I couldn’t help myself. The words just slipped out. ‘The killing kind.’
He looked at me as if I’d become unhinged. ‘What?’
I had to pull the fat out of the fire somehow. ‘I’m sorry, what I meant is, it’s a murder mystery. One of those dinner parties where you have to work out whodunit, a bit like a game of Cluedo.’
‘Oh yeah, I know the type,’ he said, slurping the last of his coffee. He stood up to go, and I walked him to the door, where he insisted on kissing me. Then he glanced at his watch. ‘If I hurry I’ll just be in time for the first lecture,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘You haven’t already forgotten I’m a student, have you?’
I had. I must’ve been dead drunk when he told me. ‘No, of course not. Have a good day. Enjoy the lecture.’
Halfway down the path he gave me a backward glance. ‘I’ll call you,’ he said. Then he was on his way, and I went back indoors wondering what fresh terrors the day would spring on me.
Mike Stone lived far enough away from me to justify using my car to visit him, but I was worried I was still over the limit, so I caught the train to Honor Oak Park then walked up the hill to his place, a rambling Victorian property which was far too big for one person. Still, he lived there alone for whatever reason.
I pressed the doorbell and he let me in, a skeletal smile on his face. He was wearing a red silk dressing gown over navy cotton pyjamas.
‘Isn’t it time you were dressed, Mike?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been too busy to get dressed.�
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Mike’s jowls wobbled when he talked. He looked just the way I remembered him from school, but more so: he was thickset and would’ve been good-looking if not for the fact he’d got too much weight around his middle, and lately he’d piled it on around his neck too, with the result that his neck flab made odd movements every time he spoke or turned his head. He was sweating like onions in a hot pan of oil, and not just because he was overweight. He was overwrought, like me.
As he led me down the expansive hall of his grand house, I noticed a couple of suitcases on the floor at the bottom of the staircase.
‘Come into the front room,’ he said, ushering me through a door. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Coffee, please, black, no sugar.’
As he turned to go to the kitchen, I noticed a bald patch on the back of his head. He was only in his early thirties. I wondered if his hair loss was stress-related.
He brought the coffee in and placed mine on a long low table in front of the sofa I’d chosen to sit on. He put his own on a similar table, went to a glass-fronted drinks cabinet, and took out a bottle of whiskey. He poured a generous amount into his coffee then offered the bottle to me.
‘No, thanks,’ I said. It took everything I had to refuse his offer. ‘I’m recovering from last night’s binge,’ I explained.
‘Best thing for a hangover, this,’ he said, taking a sip of his fortified coffee.
I thought we ought to get down to the business at hand.
‘Three of us are dead, Mike,’ I said. ‘Charlie, Seth, and Stuart. There’s been an attempt on my life, and what’s more, I haven’t been able to get in touch with Danny or Kylie. What do you make of it all?’
He pursed his fleshy lips. ‘What really scares me is they got Seth. I always thought he was untouchable.’
The smell of coffee wafted up from the mug on the low table in front of me. I picked up the mug, held it under my nose and breathed in deeply, enjoying the dark fragrance. Then I replied, ‘So did I. The big question is what are we going to do? I suppose we all thought that if something like this ever happened, Seth would come out on top and save us. It seems we have to save ourselves. But how?’
‘I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since you called me yesterday. We don’t know who’s out to get us, so frankly, there’s nothing we can do, other than run away and go to ground. Danny’s already done that. He advised me to do the same and I’m taking his advice. I’ve been packing my bags.’
I took a sip of the coffee. It was strong enough to stand up a spoon in, which was what I needed.
‘Yeah, I noticed.’
He poured another slug of whiskey into his coffee. ‘I suggest you go to ground too.’
I gave it some thought. Maybe he was right, but I didn’t want run away. It seemed like such a complicated solution. What would I do about my house, how would I earn money to live, and how would I fix myself up with a new identity?
‘Is that the best we can do? Just run away?’
He nodded, sending fleshy ripples up and down his neck. ‘Yep, I’m afraid so.’
His solution was drastic, but I had to admit it made sense. If they’d got Seth, the rest of us wouldn’t have a chance.
‘But where, Mike, and for how long?’
He shook his head, creating more ripples on the second chin beneath his jaw. ‘I’m not telling you. With the best will in the world, I daren’t. You might tell.’
‘I’d never do a thing like that, Mike. You know I can keep secrets. I’ve kept ours all these years. I haven’t told a soul.’
‘I know, Jaz. But some people would do anything to get the information out of you.’
My stomach churned when he said that. Until then, I hadn’t really considered what sort of people we might be up against. Now it was clear to me: the sort who were willing to torture me before taking my life. They were probably like Seth, but even more vicious, if it was possible to be more vicious than Seth.
‘I ought to go pack my own bags,’ I said, finishing the dregs of my coffee.
‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be more help. Oh, one more thing. Watch your back. You never know who could be waiting for the right moment to see you off.’
‘Have you been watching your back, Mike?’
‘Yes, ever since Charlie died. I couldn’t be sure at the time, but I took it as a sign that business in these parts might be getting dangerous. I’m not sticking around to find out for myself how dangerous it could get.’
I stood up. ‘I’ll let myself out. You get on with your packing or whatever.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you around, Jaz.’
‘Sure, see you around, Mike.’
I closed the door knowing I was closing it for good, as far as our relationship was concerned. I knew I’d never see him again, because before long, I’d be dead, or he’d be dead, or both of us would be.
If Mike was the one who carked it, it’d be no great loss as far as I was concerned – he reminded me of bad things in my past, so I was unable to enjoy his company. Even so, it saddened me to think I’d seen him for the last time.
As I headed quickly back down the hill to Honor Oak Park Station, dark clouds gathered overhead – a neat metaphor for the way my life was going.
When I got home I took my luggage from the cupboard beneath the stairs – a large and small wheelie case – and carried both cases up to my bedroom. I was about to start packing when the thought occurred to me: I’d have to tell my parents and brother I was leaving town. Then what? They’d want an explanation, obviously. What would I tell them?
Then I wondered, If someone came looking for me, what would they do? Would they try to find out where I was by torturing my mum and dad, or my brother? Or all three of them together? Those scenarios didn’t bear thinking about.
I realised I couldn’t follow Mike’s example and leave. I had to hang around, and take whatever lay in store for me, to spare my family.
I put my bags away and wondered if I could arm myself and fight off my future assassin. Then I remembered his or her weapon of choice seemed to be poison and I couldn’t fight that off. But I could continue to be a bit canny – and make sure nothing I ate or drank could be tampered with. Sooner or later, I reflected, that’d force my assassin to use another method – and in doing so, he’d have to show his hand. When he did, I’d be ready and waiting for him.
Such was the plan, anyway.
I only hoped I’d have the willpower to stay sober enough to execute it.
My mobile rang, interrupting my thoughts. Kylie’s name appeared on the screen.
‘Hi, Kylie,’ I said, swiping it and putting it to my ear. ‘Thank God you’ve called. I was beginning to think something had happened to you.’
‘Sorry for worrying you,’ she said. ‘I’ve only just picked up your message. I’d love to get together, but I can’t imagine what we can do to fight this thing.’
My free hand was resting on the back of a chair. It trembled slightly. I wondered whether that was due to withdrawal symptoms, or stress, or both.
‘I have a few ideas. Let’s meet up.’
‘TNQ ASAP?’
I was feeling too strung-out to leave the house again. ‘No, thanks, it’d be better if you came to my place.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll explain when you get here.’
‘Okay, see you in half an hour.’
When Kylie arrived I made us both drinks and took them through to the front room.
‘This is all very mysterious,’ she said. ‘You must explain why you didn’t want to meet at TNQ.’
I looked at her over the top of my mug of coffee and took a sip before answering. ‘I’m sorry, I was having a bit of a panic attack, that’s all.’
She nodded. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve had one or two myself lately. What are these ideas of yours?’
I put down my mug. ‘I don’t have a lot of great ideas, just one small one. The murderer, whoever he or she is, us
es poison, so watch your food and drink. Make sure it isn’t tampered with. That includes the food in your own house. I’ve been broken into, and it might have been more than a simple burglary.’
She nearly dropped her coffee but recovered without spilling any. ‘What?’
‘I had a visitor the other night. He came in through the back door and he didn’t use the key. He left a pile of broken glass in the utility room and took my iPad. But what if he didn’t break in to steal things from me? What if his real motive was poisoning me?’
‘That’s scary,’ she said.
‘I can’t be certain, but someone might have been trying to poison my food. I’m making sure everything I eat and drink is tamper-proof. I suggest you do the same.’
She eased off her shoes and curled her legs under her body. ‘It sounds like a lot of work, but I suppose it has to be done.’
‘It’s not a lot of work, it’s dead easy. If you find it hard, motivate yourself by considering this: if we take away his best weapon – poison – he’ll be forced to do something else. He might start making mistakes. With luck, we’ll be able to get him.’
She frowned. ‘Assuming there’s only one of him,’ she said. ‘There could be a few people behind this.’
‘Whatever. At least this way we might have a chance. Another thing you need to do is arm yourself. If he can’t use poison, he’ll try to find another way.’
‘That’s a cheerful thought. Do you have any more good news?’
‘It was never going to be good news, Kylie.’
‘I know.’
We sat in silence for a while, me mulling over my chances of survival, Kylie perhaps doing something similar. She finished her drink and stood up. ‘I’m going now. I’ll think about what you’ve said. Maybe I’ll do it – or more likely I’ll just leave town and hide out somewhere.’
I wondered if she’d got the idea off Mike. ‘Following Mike’s advice, eh?’
‘Mike?’
‘I saw him this morning. He’s leaving town, like you. Haven’t you heard?’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘I haven’t been in touch with him since the reunion. Anyway, I can’t say I blame him.’
I walked her to the door wondering if I should tell her she’d be putting her family at risk by leaving, then decided not to – she’d soon figure it out for herself, if she hadn’t done already.