by Lown, Anne
Parcels of Doom
Chapel End Mysteries, Volume 1
Anne Lown
Published by Junobe Publishing, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PARCELS OF DOOM
First edition. October 4, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Anne Lown.
Written by Anne Lown.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
About the Author
For my darling Sadie and the knobbly knees of my dreams.
Chapter One
The glass pane cracked, a noise so sharp Jenny leapt from her chair. Someone banged on the door, a thunderous sound matched by her heart at the sudden intrusion. The hammering turned to thuds when something connected with the edge near the lock. Jenny rushed to open it before it could break. Scott stood in front of her, weeping breaths catching in his chest. The sight of him upset weakened her knees.
“You can’t be here,” she said.
The words affected him more than she’d expected, and he crumpled to the path. Scott’s head of curly brown hair grazed the concrete while spittle dribbled from his mouth and into his beard.
“You can’t be here,” Jenny repeated, but it was harder to say it the second time. Seeing him on his knees, broken, wrenched her emotions. She covered her quivering chin with her hands, biting her lip to keep her nerve. The stress from seeing her ex-fiancé wracked with torment tore at her insides. This was not how it should be.
Scott gulped air and whimpered, “You can’t leave me.”
It was a mantra she’d heard many times of late.
“We split up, remember?”
He howled. Jenny flitted her gaze to the houses opposite, searching for signs of disturbance. Scott rolled from his knees onto his back, arms outstretched and getting louder with every moment that passed. A pungent aroma wafted up to her—he must’ve been drinking alcohol all day.
Her impulse was to reach out to him, but it was imperative to resist and remain strong. She’d decided, and he’d have to accept it.
“Is everything all right?” a strange male voice called from out of the darkness, the man hidden by the bushes at the end of her garden.
Relieved, Jenny looked up and welcomed the intrusion. The chill breeze caressed her skin, and she shivered, hugging herself.
Scott continued to howl.
“It’s fine. Really,” she told the stranger.
The man stepped through the gate and came closer. He was nearing forty, a similar age to both Jenny and Scott. His clothing resembled a caricature of a past decade, a new romantic or some such thing. His long, open trench coat flapped from a gust of wind to reveal jeans, a crew neck sweater, and on his feet, trainers. The sleeves were rolled partway up his forearms, his blond hair spiked like the early eighties. Jenny was so grateful he didn’t have a mullet, or she would’ve burst out laughing.
“Are you sure?” The stranger asked, his brow furrowed.
A movement flickered below her. Scott had stopped the tears and got to his feet. He thrust out his chest and shouted, “Of course she’s sure.”
She placed a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. “Scott, it’s fine.” She’d been in this situation, too many times. He’d change from emotionally sensitive to angry and brutal in a flash. A fight was about to take place—it was the last thing she needed.
He took a step forward and sneered, “So who are you then, her new lover?”
Jenny cringed. She’d never seen him before.
“Just a passerby,” the stranger said. He stood his ground, removed his hands from his coat pockets, and spread his weight across his feet.
Scott took another step closer. “Well, you’d better keep passing by then, hadn’t you.” He crunched his knuckles, a move he used to intimidate. It usually worked.
The stranger stared straight at Jenny. “I’m here to help if you need me.”
At that moment, Scott took his first swing. His right hand followed a wide arc but not quite fast enough to connect. The stranger dodged it with ease. A scowl erupted on Scott’s face, and he charged at the stranger, but again, the man was too quick for him and side-stepped. She flinched when Scott landed on the grass, his trousers stained at the knees.
Jenny prepared herself for a display of manly strength, possibly even broken bones, but the stranger gave the impression he wasn’t concerned. Scott scrambled to his feet. He lunged again, flailing headfirst into the bushes as the man leapt out of the way.
The electric light from the hallway didn’t reach to the edges of the garden, so she couldn’t see if he’d given up yet. She knew how bloody-minded he was, so his reappearance at her door wasn’t a surprise. They moved closer to her, the light just about reaching them. He thrust his left hand at the stranger’s head, but the move was blocked and followed with a side-on kick to Scott’s torso. He staggered backwards, regained his balance, and rested his hands on his knees. Hot breath clouded around his head.
“Don’t think you’ve heard the last of this,” Scott jeered, reluctant to concede defeat. He used the bush alongside to pull himself upright and stumbled out of the garden.
Jenny and the stranger watched him leave.
“I’m so sorry, he doesn’t know when to stop.” Jenny closed her eyes and sighed, ashamed of her ex’s behaviour.
The stranger walked towards the front door where she’d been gripping the frame, ready to bolt inside if need be. “That’s all right.”
She could see him clearly now. His trench coat looked shabby up close. She lifted her gaze to his face and spiked-back hair. In all the dashing about it had become dishevelled. The urge to laugh overwhelmed her. She tried to stem its flow by pressing her lips with her fingers but failed. Jenny laughed so hard she struggled to breathe.
The stranger stood and stared at her, his brow creased.
She forced herself to stop, returning his steady gaze. She sensed something pass between them, and her cheeks flushed in response. The stranger turned to leave.
“Wait,” she said, “I don’t know your name.”
“Jason. I’ll see you around.” He strolled out of the gate and disappeared into the darkness.
Jenny’s feet were rooted to the spot, her flesh tingling with excitement. Maybe she’d bump into her knig
ht in shining armour again soon. She certainly hoped so.
Chapter Two
The sun peaked over the rooftops, its rays yawning into the sky. The canopy of land in front of her stretched for miles. Even this early in the year, the scene was beautiful. Mist caught in the dips of the valley below, hiding parts of the large town of Bishop from view. She didn’t miss living there. The move to Chapel End village was what she’d needed—a fresh start.
The solid mud thudded beneath her feet. Rigid ruts made running difficult, twisting her foot if she landed wrong. Her morning runs were now few and far between. Jenny’s new duty as a walking postwoman was taking its toll on her exercise routine. The sharp, crisp air sliced through her lungs. Arms pumping at her sides, legs striding one after the other, she ploughed on. A sheen of sweat cooled her skin, sticking her shoulder-length brown hair to her head.
She stopped by the wooden stile, breathless. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, her chest heaving. Birdsong was drowned out by the pounding of blood in her ears. All around her the world was waking. It was a new experience for Jenny. Years spent on the night shift at the Mail Centre in Bishop had left her out of sync with normal life, but that was no longer the case.
Six years on the same duty with Scott. He’d sulked when they’d split up, causing trouble and a backlash from her colleagues. Management wanted her to fix him. A snort left her lips. Yeah, right, as if anyone could. Scott was a law unto himself. When the position had opened on deliveries, she’d taken it.
Jenny grabbed the wooden post and swung her leg over. It was one of a few openings in the hedges, the fields accessible from the road. She glanced both ways before stepping off the stile. The lanes could be treacherous when the traffic picked up. She crossed to the start of the village, stretching on her way home.
JENNY PULLED OPEN THE security door to Bishop Mail Centre, arriving with the other part-time staff, all working on a Saturday morning. The large warehouse structure had a portion sectioned off for deliveries, where the work had already been sorted and placed in mailbags. Their feet on the polished concrete echoed in the vast space. Without the packet and letter machines running, the main part of the building was eerie. Jenny diverted her attention—everywhere she looked reminded her of Scott.
They carried on past the manager’s office and around two lines of lockers skirting a walkway. Here postmen rushed about, pushing mini yorks with the last of the parcels to the sorting frames, ensuring nothing was left behind. She found the name for the half-sized trolleys they used strange, but everyone knew what they were.
Jenny greeted a balding man called Adam at their sorting frames—he was to be her walk partner. Walk, another weird name, but for the delivery route she’d work that day. He fussed over the equipment they needed, making sure it was all there. They had collections to make on the way on top of customers’ post to scan at front doors. She helped him load the van, and they set off from the secure car park. The biggest perk for Jenny was no more sorting the mail.
As the new girl on the shift, each day had covered a different walk, and she filled in where needed. “Where’s the other postman you work with? Having a day off?”
Adam kept his attention on the road. “He broke his ankle yesterday, running away from a dog.”
Jenny let out a quiet whistle, her eyes bulging at what she’d just heard. “Happen often?”
“Nah,” Adam said, “it’d escaped the back garden and waited for him. He panicked and jumped the gate. Landed wrong is all.”
“I take it he’ll be gone for a while.”
Adam smiled. “Looks like I’ll be stuck with you.”
She watched out of the side window. They rushed past hedges as the van climbed out of a dip and the countryside opened around them. The journey back to Chapel End wasn’t long, but by being a passenger she got to enjoy the ride. It felt strange returning to her home village shortly after leaving, but comforting, too. A chance to stroll around the streets without seeming like a snoop while she learnt the area. So far, she hadn’t ventured out much—there was too much to be done indoors just trying to settle in.
Adam pulled up at the side of the road. It was their first park-and-loop point. He leapt from the van, wasting no time in getting started. Jenny got out and followed him to the doors at the back. He sorted through each of the mailbags and gave her one. “Right then,” he said, “you start on the left side of Three Stiles road, coming back to the van on the right.”
Jenny grabbed her mailbag and slung the strap over her head, so it crossed her body. “Wow, that’s heavy.”
She looked up. Adam was staring, concern evident in his face. She adjusted the weight and stepped away from the van, her first bundle of letters in her hand.
The village was bigger than she’d expected. The housing estates spread out, the side roads meandering with more properties added over the years. It was going to take more than a few days to get her bearings. She passed the village hall, an old building that had seen better days. The front door had been painted so many times it appeared wedged in place. A display of activities was pinned on a noticeboard outside, serving the village and its young. Nothing on the list appealed to her, but then she wasn’t retired or school age.
She marched with vigour, mindful of how fast Adam got to the back of the van. Jenny wanted to make this work—returning to the night shift wasn’t on the agenda. Especially since her days with Scott were now over. An image from the night before popped into her head. A giggle slipped from her lips. The stranger had called himself Jason. She hadn’t seen him so far, but then she didn’t know where he lived. By the end of the shift, she’d made up her mind. He’d rescued her when she’d needed him, the least she could do was buy him a drink.
Chapter Three
Jenny strolled along the road, clutching the collar of her jacket to stop the sharp breeze slinking its way in. She shivered. It was as though icy fingers were tracing along her spine, but it wasn’t enough to urge her to walk faster. She wanted to see her new village, even in the dimming light of a late Saturday afternoon.
Barely a soul moved along the high street. The odd car drove past from the direction of Bishop, their errands run there due to the lack of amenities nearby. The four shops became three with the convenience store taking up two of the business units, metal shutters on the other two already rolled down, their staff long gone for the day.
A bell sounded when she pushed open the heavy door, the warmth from an overhead heater blowing through her hair. Jenny stood under it longer than she should, scanning the inside of the shop. An old man studied her from behind the counter. It wasn’t a welcome stare. A tentative smile danced across her lips, and she darted her gaze away to row upon row of stacked shelves, lined up like soldiers across the main section of the floor.
She stepped out of view, paying attention to the fridges and freezers against the walls and the alcohol to the far left, where the products were protected by the assistant. The shelves curved around into the back of his counter space and so making the old man a gatekeeper to the expensive bottles, which just happened to be the ones she wanted. She’d have to settle for wine; at least that would be within easy reach.
Jenny pressed her hand to her stomach, a rumble eating away at her insides. She hadn’t bothered to stop at the supermarket on the way home. It gave her an excuse to walk to the local shops and pop in, observe the homes on the way past and say hello to anyone she met. So far it was only the shop assistant she’d seen, and he didn’t appear to be friendly.
The frozen meals did nothing to inspire her. “I bet Scott’s dinner’s better than mine,” she muttered. Her thoughts kept slipping to what he’d be doing tonight. They used to visit the Old Town, a road edged with bars and places to eat. It was a hub of young fun, twenty-somethings spilling out onto the street and staggering from one pub to another.
Jenny let out a sigh.
God, I feel old.
She reached into the freezer and picked up a meal in each hand. The choi
ce was abysmal, a sad-looking shepherd’s pie a dog wouldn’t eat or chicken hotpot. Jenny peered closer at the picture on the box. She was sure that wasn’t chicken, not like any she’d seen before anyway.
“I’d pick the curry,” a familiar voice sounded in her ear.
Jenny jolted. “Huh, what?” She looked up.
Jason smiled down at her. He wasn’t that tall—under six foot for certain—but Jenny was on the slight side, so most men towered over her.
He took the box from her, his hand sliding over hers. “Not the best I’ve had, but good enough for something quick.”
He stepped closer, and Jenny’s heart thundered. Her cheeks flushed with more blood radiating towards her neck, and she dipped her head to hide behind her hair.
Oh God.
She bit her bottom lip, then blew out a breath, her nerves crackling all over.
“Look, I’ve not eaten either,” he said. “Do you fancy coming to the pub? We can get something there.”
Her hand trembled as she tucked stray hairs behind her ear. “Okay.”
It was a relief to be moving from the spot. She thought they’d be stuck there with the owner watching them like a hawk. Outside, she took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, the chill caressing her lungs. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Me neither, but I hoped I would.” Jason’s stare lingered, his warm blue eyes vivid in the light from the shop window.
They crossed the road to the pub opposite. Jason pulled the door open, the noise from inside escaping into the street. A scattering of customers turned to watch them enter, some by the bar and others dotted at tables. The pub had an old wooden feel to it. Cladding on the walls fought with the electric light to dim the atmosphere, and the dark patterned carpet did the rest. Stains from years of nicotine soiled what little paint there was, and the room still held a smoky smell. The furnishings were finished off with an array of differently tied knots in rope that were attached to the walls. A strange choice for decoration, clashing with pottery dishes and other ornamental features.