TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Thriller)

by H Elliston

  I clenched my teeth, trying to hide my unease from him.

  “I found Daryl’s body one lunch time while walking my dog.” He fiddled with his glass. “Couldn’t believe it. Still can’t.”

  “Jesus!” I yelped. His pain was etched on every facial feature. He didn’t need me bombarding him with questions, but I had to know more. “Just one more thing.” I gripped the edge of the table. “This is a strange question, but, do you know if Daryl got that ‘number’s up’ phrase from an email?” I raised an eyebrow, prompting a response.

  Phillip looked up and his stare bore into me. “Why are you so interested in Daryl?”

  “I’m trying to work out if I’m linked to him. I received that same phrase in an email yesterday.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really. Have you heard that phrase before? I mean, before Daryl. Any of your friends, or work colleagues ever mentioned getting a message like that in an email, or a text?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m sure it’s just a random message or a mix-up. That guy Lee, he took the phone from me before I finished reading the text.”

  Phillip placed his palm on the table and looked into my eyes. “All I know is, it was a strange text for Daryl to send to his brother. And now that he’s dead, I guess Lee will never know what he meant by it, and by that ‘people have to pay for... or whatever it was... line.”

  “You’re shittin’ me?” Hearing this phrase was also in the text raised my alert level sky high.

  “Excuse me?”

  “People have to pay for what they’ve done?”

  “Something like that.” Phillip took a deep breath and rounded his shoulders forward. He looked worn out, mentally. The poor guy. Finding a friend’s dead body wouldn’t be an easy thing for anyone to deal with.

  I realised it was cruel to fire more questions at a grieving man I’d only just met. Besides, it sounded like he didn’t know anything useful about my email, its origin, or the story behind the text. If he did know more, his gloomy face didn’t reveal any sign.

  Even if I had nothing to fear, the mystery intrigued me. I didn’t know anyone named Daryl, so why had I stumbled upon his name and that damn phrase two nights in a row? It felt creepy. I knew what I had to do next. “I’m sorry about your friend,” I said. “But would you do me a favour?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  “Would you pass my number to his brother, please.” I scribbled my name, number, ‘call me,’ and ‘have you checked your brother’s emails?’ on a serviette before he had the chance to say no.

  He pinched the paper between his fingers as if accepting a written rejection. He lingered a moment, then frowned. “You want your date to set you up on another date? Is this the way things are done these days?”

  “I wouldn’t know. But this is important,” I said, staring long enough for him to realise I was serious. “I only want to talk to him. Not date him.”

  “All right.”

  His voice sounded depressed. The dullness of his eyes instilled me with sadness. I felt like I, and I alone, had sullied the evening.

  I placed a stack of coins on the table to cover my drink, and gave him a sympathetic embrace. After stuffing my belongings back into my bag, I left the bar. Blinking a few times on the path, I shook my internal compass, then found a taxi to take me home.

  On entering my house, my mind was racing. A suspicious loss of life, death’s door words in my inbox, the faceless girlfriend and a possible burglary. What had I stumbled upon?

  After wondering why Laura had left a lamp on when I’d clearly asked her not to, I engaged the safety chain and locked the front door. In light of what I’d learned this weekend, it felt similar to sealing my escape hatch.

  I hated the idea of any problem, however big or small, clouding Laura’s wedding week. I couldn’t explain what didn’t feel right, but, it was like I’d been signed up for something. In secret.

  It wasn’t the actual email, the text, or even the phrases within them that worried me.

  No.

  My concern after this weekend’s unsettling news was, what happened to the people who received them?

  CHAPTER 3

  Laura’s dress fitting! I’d slept in.

  I ran into the bathroom to shower, sent a text to Laura, then drove like Lewis Hamilton to her house.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whined, dashing into her hallway. “I slept in.”

  The seamstress passed me with a huge zip bag draped across her arms. Laura’s wedding dress.

  “You’re forgiven.” Laura backed up her words with a smile. “Thanks for trying to get here. You’re more than a best friend. You’re like the sister I don’t have.”

  “Ahr. Same here.” I hugged her.

  “I’m so pleased I’ll be wearing my mum’s wedding dress. Kind of feels as though she’ll be there on the day, you know?”

  Being an only child, Laura had inherited a fortune when her parents died last year; money, property, the works. Her dad was into real estate and rented out several houses, which Laura was now in charge of. Laura didn’t blame me for her parents’ death. Nevertheless, my being in the right place at the wrong time that day, left me riddled with guilt. I had made it my duty to be supportive at every stage of her wedding to fill a small bit of the void I’d played a part in creating. I’d failed miserably today, and assumed my guilt showed in my expression.

  “Is your dress ready?”

  She motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen. “More or less fits me like a glove. Just like Paul does.”

  “Oh, Laura. Shut the hell up. That’s too soppy on an empty stomach. Is Paul at work?”

  She nodded. “Then he’s going to the gym when he finishes. I’ll hardly see him today. It’s his stag do tonight.”

  “Why didn’t he have it on Saturday?”

  “Some of the guys couldn’t make it.”

  I sat at the granite island in her kitchen. I ate a bagel, and thought about how much I wanted Laura to embark on a new, positive life with Paul. She needed this marriage, needed something wonderful to mark the start of a fresh era. I did, too. More than she’d ever know.

  Laura appeared wide-awake. I, on the other hand, felt stuck in a different time zone.

  “How was your date? Sorry, I’ll rephrase, your night out?” She shot me a sly grin. “I meant to text you, but we went to bed early.”

  “Well, we won’t be joining you down the aisle. To say the least, the date was awkward. Guess what? He knew that guy who died.” I expected a reaction, but saw little more than concentration in her eyes while she started wiping the worktop. “I asked Phillip some questions, but he wasn’t very helpful. Anyway, he’s passing my number to Lee, Daryl’s brother.”

  Laura stopped cleaning, narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re kidding? The poor guy. Let him grieve in peace.”

  I nodded. “I will. After I find out if he knows who sent me that email.” I lifted magazines and she wiped underneath. “I didn’t even know Daryl, but everything I do leads back to him. It’s becoming creepy. If he wasn’t dead, I’d think he was stalking me!”

  “Strange,” she mumbled, turning around to scrub the sink.

  I took the hint and changed the subject. Her week was stressful enough without me adding to it.

  “Don’t let Jayne set me up again.”

  “Okay. But we both know she loves playing cupid.”

  I laughed. “And loves making me look stupid!”

  Jayne was responsible for getting Laura and Paul together. After that, she thought she had the magic touch for matchmaking. Any singleton she knew paid the price for Laura’s happiness.

  Laura glanced at her watch, threw the dishcloth in the sink then turned to me.

  I recognised her ‘do me a favour’ smile.

  “Listen. I know you’ve only just arrived, but I need to nip to town.” She darted across the room and rummaged through a drawer. “Do you mind waiting here? Read a magazine or something.”
<
br />   “I’ll come with you,” I said, puzzled by her urgency. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

  Laura poked around another drawer and stuffed a piece of paper into her bag. She cocked her head towards the hall resembling a person with a twitch - not a flattering look.

  I dashed out the front door. “I can take a hint. But what’s the hurry?”

  We drove to town in Laura’s car. She didn’t answer my question. Laura loved shopping. Today she had no interest in it.

  “I need to nip to the collection office before it shuts. Will you wait here for me?” Laura slipped away, leaving me standing on the path in the middle of town.

  My mobile pinged with a text from Jayne, asking how my date went. I typed a reply: ‘Never again. You’re sacked! Xx’

  Ten minutes later, Laura returned with a parcel tucked under her arm.

  “What’s in the box?” I asked, touching it.

  “Nothing important.” She moved the parcel, wedging it under her other arm out of my view.

  “Is it for the wedding? Can I see?”

  “No.”

  I folded my arms, and glanced at the parcel from the corner of my eye. Perhaps it’s a bridesmaid gift for me, I thought, grinning. “Is it a—“

  “You’re being very nosey lately, Chelsea.”

  “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? Lately?”

  “Never mind. Just forget the damn parcel, will you?”

  I hooked her arm. “No. Tell me. What do you mean?”

  "Please, drop it." Laura's mouth curved downwards.

  “Take a chill pill,” I said. “I was only playing around. You’re not normally so secretive. What’s up?”

  Laura shrugged off my grip. “I’m not being secretive.”

  “And, I suppose you’re not being snappy, either.” I nudged her and smiled, hoping she’d break out of her mood.

  Laura shoved a hand through her hair. “Chelsea, just... grrr.” She marched ahead and didn’t look back.

  “Hey, Laura! Wait up.” I chased after her, but lost her among the mass of bobbing heads on the path. She simply vanished.

  Holy crap! What was that outburst all about? I figured all brides should be entitled to the odd ‘Bridezilla’ moment, but assumed that would be regarding the dress, the cake...

  The wind kicked up a small storm of debris around my ankles as I waited, leaning against a shop wall, staring up and down the busy street. She’d have to face me at some point. My car was outside her house.

  Laura didn’t accept my phone calls, so I left a message to try and win her round. It worked.

  She returned fifteen minutes later, red-faced, parcel still under her arm. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “I should think you are. Don’t do that again or we really will fall out.”

  She hugged me, then we headed to the car and drove to her house.

  I drank a quick coffee in her kitchen before standing up to leave.

  Laura showed me down the hall. She stroked a finger over a framed photo of her parents.

  I fished my car keys out of my bag, then placed my hand on her shoulder. “They’d be so proud of you, Laura Harris.” I guessed that’s what she needed to hear.

  “Not for much longer,” she said, with a sparkle in her eyes.

  I nibbled my lip, trying to understand. “Huh?”

  “My name. It’ll be Johnson soon.”

  “Of course. Mrs. Laura Johnson.” Phew! I thought, silly me.

  There was no doubt in my mind she’d have traded all her money and houses to have her parents back - even if just for her wedding day. I would have done the same.

  “Stay!” Laura said, turning to face me. “It’s Paul’s stag do tonight, and I don’t much fancy being on my own.”

  I nodded. “Sure. I’m not at work tomorrow. I’ll nip home for a few belongings.”

  “Good, because I’ve got some calls to make. Check up on the cake, photographer, that sort of thing.”

  Half an hour later, I returned to Laura’s house with a bag in one hand and a bottle of bubbly in the other.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Laura said, opening the front door. “We’ll have bubbly coming out of our ears if we keep this pace all week.”

  We kicked back on the sofa for several hours watching a romcom movie. Having failed to engage Laura in chitchat, I got the impression that company was not something she wanted, despite having invited me round. The bubbly stood unopened in the fridge.

  I could have chosen this down time to ask Laura why she’d overreacted in town, but I recognised her need for not wanting to talk, as much as the times when she ached to get something off her chest. Perhaps she was worried about what the guys would do to Paul on his stag night: string him to a lamppost, naked, or something equally humiliating.

  My stomach began rumbling.

  Laura must have had the same feeling. “Takeout time.”

  “Good idea, Bridezilla,” I said. I put my hand over my mouth to conceal my grin, dreading her reaction.

  A hint of a smile flashed onto Laura’s face.

  My phone rang, giving me no time to get excited about food. I glanced into the hall following the tune, cheerful yet annoying. I needed to download a new ring tone.

  Laura bolted to the kitchen looking like she’d entered a race, only to stop when she realised it was my phone ringing. “Oh, I thought it might be... Paul.”

  I came up behind her and picked up my mobile. “Don’t you know your own ringtone?” I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Chelsea?” a smooth, male voice asked.

  “Yeah. Who is this?”

  “Lee.”

  “Oh!” In disbelief, I mouthed his name to Laura.

  Her eyes rolled in response. “Leave the poor guy to grieve,” she whispered, then put her head next to mine and listened in on the call anyway.

  “Phillip gave me your note,” Lee said. “The one you wrote on a serviette. We need to meet.”

  “Meet?” I said. “It’s about your brother, right? I thought we could just talk on the phone.”

  “It would be better in person. But tell me one thing, you’re definitely not a reporter, are you? Because I don’t want my mum, who’s distraught enough already, opening the paper tomorrow and reading—”

  “No. Like I said, it was a ploy to get free drinks. I swear.”

  Laura tensed at my side, shook her head and stepped away from me. A drawer scraped open and she turned, waving a takeout menu in the air and smiling brightly.

  “I’m at my friend’s for the night,” I said. “Can we meet up tomorrow?”

  “It won’t take long, besides, I’m busy tomorrow.”

  “I’ll have to ask Laura. It’s not fair if I… hold on.”

  Her eyes ran over the menu on the kitchen counter. She said nothing, but I sensed her growing irritation. Before I could whisper a single word, she shook her head again, without even looking at me. Annoyed with her, I said, “I’m going to meet him.” I figured some time alone might be just what she needed.

  Laura paused mid-motion. Her attitude became clear when she dropped the takeout menu back in the drawer and slammed it shut with her bottom.

  “Are you still there?” Lee asked. “Can we meet?”

  I tapped my thigh while watching Laura stomp toward the hall in a huff. You’re really doing my head in today, I thought, shaking my head at her. Her sharp gaze, while brushing past me, intensified my need to escape for an hour. Besides, my so-called ‘dead stalker’ had piqued my interest too much to decline. Laura and her fluctuating moods would still be here on my return, no doubt. “Oh, let’s live dangerously, stranger! Where are you?”

  CHAPTER 4

  The shutters were down on the shops. The streets quiet bar distant traffic sounds. I parked my scratched Corsa then walked to the meet point near the main shopping area. A crowd of young people strolled ahead along my side of the path, revealing Lee outside a small lingerie store.

  I wave
d, then lowered my arm when he spotted me.

  He was hovering by the display window, had stiff shoulders and was tapping his foot. The wind lifted his floaty fringe of hair off his face.

  I strolled over.

  “Hey. Thanks for coming,” he said politely, but bewilderment was etched across his face. “I’ll get straight to the point.”

  “Suits me.”

  “Why did you ask me to check my brother’s emails?”

  “Someone sent me the phrase ‘Tick, tock. Your number’s up,’ in an email the other day. I tried to tell you on Saturday night.”

  Lee’s eyes snapped wide open. They were chestnut brown and had a luminous warmth which reminded me of glossy chocolate sauce. “In an email, you say? What else do you know?”

  I slipped my hands in my jean pockets. “I hoped you might be able to tell me what it’s about.”

  “You mentioned a computer virus on Saturday. Why?”

  “I thought my email might contain a virus.” I lowered my gaze. “But something—”

  “Go on. Spit it out.” He motioned with his hand.

  I met his eyes again. “Something just feels wrong. I wondered if your brother first read that phrase in a similar—”

  His posture became ruler-straight. “Email?”

  “I’m sure I sound silly, but yes. Finding out that your brother is dead, and that phrase sounding like his dying words, ending up in my inbox, well, it kind of freaked me out.”

  He leaned against the brick wall. “So, you’re wondering whether there’s a link between you and Daryl?”

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  “And between the email, his text, and death?”

  I folded my arms and stifled a laugh at myself. “I know it sounds ridiculous. But, basically, yes.”

  Lee’s face hardened. The fact that he didn’t mock me came as a relief, but it also worried me. I narrowed my eyes. Was he just humouring me?

  “I don’t think it sounds ridiculous at all,” he said, searching my face with his eyes. “Something’s not right about my brother’s death, so you’ve got my attention.”