by H Elliston
The beep of a car horn travelled in from the street.
Emma peeked through the curtains, then ran her fingers through her long blond hair. “My taxi’s here. The driver looks kind of cute.” She slipped her heels on, grabbed her belongings and made for the front door. She winked at me over her shoulder. “Love to stay and squeeze more gossip from you, but I have to get going. Let me know how it goes with your mystery man, and hopefully he’s got a brother for me!”
We waved until her taxi drove off, then shut the quiet streets away for the night.
Laura aimed a curious look at me. “I’m guessing that... Lee is your new man? How did this happen so fast?”
I nodded, but gave nothing else away. I ran my fingers along the wooden banister until I reached the top of the curved staircase.
“He seems rude. I don’t like him. He expected you to drop everything to meet him tonight. You barely know him, and now you’re romping and booking hotel rooms?”
The baldness of Laura’s comments caught me off guard. The subsequent silence meant she expected a response. I didn’t have one. Not one I wanted her to hear.
“I’m sorry, Chelsea. I’m just looking out for you.” She paused. “Do me one favour.”
“What?”
“Before you go jumping into bed with him – if you haven’t already - find out exactly who you’re jumping into bed with.”
Her words made no sense. She wanted me to start dating again, and although I wasn’t, I wondered at her problem with this particular guy.
CHAPTER 7
Morning broke too early for my liking. Whoever prowled outside the bedroom door made a creaking sound.
“Can I come in?” Laura whispered.
“Yes. I’m awake. It’s your house.”
The door glided across the carpet and she entered, fully dressed. “I need to nip out. Do you want to stay here?”
“No. I’ve got things to do. I’ll get up.”
“Okay. See you downstairs.”
The thought of what my day had in store made me shudder. After a moment of quietly complaining and hugging the pillow, I dragged myself into the ensuite and took a quick shower. I needed to hurry. I had the world to face, a problem to solve and I couldn’t do any of it by lulling around, festering in self-pity.
On my way downstairs, I saw Laura jangling her keys and pointing towards the front door, impatient to leave.
“You’ll have to wait a minute. I need a drink.” I walked into the kitchen, filled a glass with water from the tap, and noticed a red rose head sticking out from under the lip of the kitchen bin. “What’s up with the flowers?”
Laura walked to the bin, stuffed what appeared to be half a dozen roses deeper inside and buried their redness under screwed up newspaper. “Don’t know who sent them. But I know it wasn’t Paul.”
“A stranger sent you red roses?”
“No message on the card. Just a large X for a kiss.”
I rubbed my hands together in jest. “Ooh! Secret admirer?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Chelsea. Lose the cheeky grin. And don’t say a word to Paul. It’s just not appropriate when I’m about to marry the guy.”
“My lips are sealed. But don’t you want to know who sent them? I mean, it’s lovely that someone likes you enough to arrange flowers.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. I’ve made my choice.” She turned on her heels.
While downing my drink, the house phone rang.
“I’ll get it.” I picked up the receiver on the bench to my left. “Hello?”
No answer.
“Heeello? Who’s calling?”
“I’m waiting,” a muffled voice said.
“Who is this?”
The line went dead.
“How weird,” I muttered, staring at the little microphone holes on the receiver.
Laura came up behind me. “What’s weird?”
“They said ‘I’m waiting,’ then hung up.”
Laura took the phone from my hand and placed it back on the cradle. “If it’s important they’ll phone my mobile. Let’s go.”
I shrugged. “If you say so.” We walked down the hall, and at the front door, I startled her with a warm embrace. Nestling my head into the curve of her neck, I took in her latest home-mixed scent and squeezed hard.
“Wow. What?” she giggled. “I’m not leaving forever. Just for an hour or two. My aunt wants me to keep her in the loop about the wedding. If I don’t go over there, she’s likely to come round here, and I’ll never get rid of her. She’s made a big check list. She’s driving me round the bend. The worst one was when she insisted that I sort out a pre-nup.”
“Ooh. Tricky.”
“I did it to stop her nagging. Paul understood.”
“So he should. He’s a nice guy.”
She smiled. “Lucky me. Anyway, come back later if you’ll miss me that much. And, sorry for being snappy lately. I don’t mean to be.”
I nodded against her shoulder, then trudged to my car with a lump in my throat. Like any rational person, I wanted someone’s help. But I was doing Laura a big favour by cutting her loose. Right now, being near me could be dangerous.
The further I drove from Laura’s, the more daylight faded. Thick, grey clouds rolled in. A rainstorm was on the horizon. Stupidly, I wondered if my mood had caused it. On the approach to my street I realised that if Lee was right, another email containing a get-out-clause puzzle could arrive any moment. I needed to view it in large on my computer screen. If I logged on via my mobile, some graphics could be missed, or run slow, meaning I’d blow my opportunity to beat any puzzle it contained. I’d already figured out the last email arrived late morning and wondered if the sender would stick to a pattern. I assumed even killers had jobs or schedules. I put my foot down to beat the storm.
Once indoors, after sweeping the house for intruders, I booted up the computer and went into the kitchen. While I waited for my toast to pop, I prayed that the email sender would slip up and leave a clue as to their identity so that I had a lead to give to the police.
A sudden urge to phone my parents came to me, strong as thirst. I needed to hear my mum's comforting voice. I settled for looking at a photo instead. I didn’t want to worry them. My mum never missed a trick. She was bound to pick up on telltale nerves in my voice.
I searched the fireplace for the silver-framed picture of them in their summer garden, but couldn’t find it. What did I do with it? I scanned the other pictures, then found it switched with a photo of Laura, Emma and me taken a couple of months ago. I smiled, reminiscing the surprise spa day which Laura’s fiancé Paul had organised. I looked back to my parents’ photo, then stared at the place it should have been.
My toast popped up. I spread a thick layer of lumpy jam on it and ate. On the last bite, I moved the few strides into my dining room and faced the computer desk. Am I ready? Alert enough? As soon as I switched it on, if there was another game in the email, I’d have to solve it on my own. I couldn’t afford to blow my chance of stopping that damn death clock by not being focused.
I took a step nearer to the desk, cutting through the invisible tension that lingered in the room.
“Check my emails. Call the police,” I told myself. Simple.
A burst of knocking on the front door shattered the silence. I stopped typing my password, then edged into the hallway.
A dark, wide object moved past the magazine-sized window in my front door, causing me to flinch and press my back against the wall. What the hell is that? The dark shape shot past the window again. No one would attack me on the doorstep in broad daylight, surely? Ridiculous! The neighbours would see.
This was one of the rare times I’d wanted to find either a double-glazing or annoying gas & electic salesperson at my door, with a clipboard and cheesy grin, claiming, as they all do, that their prices were the lowest.
After checking the safety chain was in place, I wrapped my fingers around the handle, pushed it down
and inched the door open.
CHAPTER 8
A slice of a trouser leg stepped into view through the gap of the front door. The stiletto remained wielded above my head. Paul stood on the pavement, bleary-eyed and wet, holding his navy jacket as a makeshift umbrella in a wide triangle above him. He peered at me through the gap.
I felt stupid, but that relieved I could have grabbed hold and kissed him. “Crikey, Paul, it’s you.” I unhooked the chain and opened the door.
“Chelsea... you okay?” He eyed my shoe. “What’s that for?”
I chucked the stiletto behind me, which landed on the laminate floor with a thump. “Nothing. Having a clear out. Come in. Did you enjoy your stag party? I see you still have both eyebrows intact.”
“Yes. A top night.” He stepped inside out of the rain and draped his jacket over his arm. “Well, I can’t remember much towards the end.”
I laughed. “Sore head?”
“Listen.” Paul’s narrowing blue eyes homed in on me. “I want a private word away from Laura.”
Curiosity piqued, I motioned for Paul to follow me through to the kitchen. “Sure. About what?” I flicked the kettle on, then grabbed two mugs and the coffee jar from the cupboard above.
“It’s about Mark.”
“Your best man?” I said, digging a spoon into the jar. “Thirsty?”
Both his face and posture were unnerving in their stiffness. What’s bugging him?
“No, thanks,” Paul said. “I’ll get to the point. It may be my hangover talking, but, you don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about, do you? It’s just, well, Mark seems to go all weird when I mention Laura’s name, lately. And he stares at her. A lot. And winks. I’m starting to think—”
“What?” I giggled, spilling coffee granules on the worktop. “That they’re having an affair?”
“Well... yes.”
My voice rose to a squeak. “Are you serious?”
Paul nodded. “Laura’s not been herself, lately. You must have noticed, too. She’s been... distracted, irritated. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I’m worried about her. All I know is, the pair of them have been acting strange for a while. It got me thinking.”
“Trust me.” I thought it best not to laugh again. “You’ve got nothing to worry about on that score. Yes, I agree Mark’s got a thing for Laura, but it’s harmless. As for Laura, she doesn’t even look at other men. She’s just upset about her parents not being able to see her wedding.”
“I know. I wish I could wave a wand and bring them back. It’s an awful thing to say, but I hoped you’d think it was something like that.” He clamped a hand on the edge of the worktop and stared into my eyes.
“Mind you,” he said. “I expect you’d cover up for her. Best friends ‘n’ all.”
Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I continued studying Paul. “Why are you asking me this if you think I’ll cover for her?” I paused, confused. “Anyway, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I swear on my life. If anyone else likes her, then they’ve left it too late. She said as much this morn...” I stopped myself, didn’t want to mention the red roses from her secret admirer. Could they have been from Mark? “She’s marrying you. She loves you. So, chill out, will you?”
Paul’s expression began to brighten. The stress in his eyes dissolved. “Sorry. It was unfair of me to put you on the spot.”
I followed Paul to the front door. “Go home and give Laura a big kiss.”
“I intend to.”
I waved him off to his car, wondering why Paul had risked Laura finding out that he was suspicious by talking to me. Poor bloke. To risk that, he must have been pretty distraught about the thought of Laura canoodling with Mark. Maybe last night’s alcohol had Mark saying things he shouldn’t. I wished I’d been the bar maid so I could have listened. I laughed then blushed, imagining myself dressed up in a naughty French maid outfit, something fit for a stag meeting.
Before I could turn to go back in my house, a chirpy voice called out, “Hey!”
I looked right and spotted Lee jogging along the pavement in the rain. Perfect timing! The nearer he got, the more my insides felt like they were bouncing along with him. “Hey, stranger! Where did you disappear to last night?” I grabbed the flaps of his open jacket and pulled him through the front door. My delight at seeing him hit me hard.
“I went through my brother’s belongings again. I thought I told you?” He pulled away and smiled. “Who was at the door?”
“Paul. Laura’s fiancé.”
Lee pursed his lips, and then poked his head out into the street.
“Shut the door and come inside.” I guided Lee through to the dining room, and just stood, overjoyed to have someone in my corner for the next dreaded email.
“You can let go of my hand now, Chelsea,” he said, failing to wriggle out of his coat using one arm.
He draped his coat over the radiator. “I came back late last night, but you didn’t answer the door.”
I threw him a towel. “I went to Laura’s.”
He ruffled his wet hair. “Anyway, we’ve got our work cut out for us today, trying to figure out this mess.”
Finally, I pulled up my email account. “No new messages yet. Did you discover anything last night?”
He twisted his lips in disappointment. “No diary, no notes. I went through all Daryl’s cupboards and even rooted in the bins. Nothing but standard bills, application forms for credit cards and loans. Junk. I just don’t know what I’m looking for.”
I crossed the room toward the kitchen. “What about photos?”
“Well, his computer was smashed in, even the hard drive, so dead end there. Nothing struck me as strange on his camera.”
“What about his girlfriend?” I grabbed a carton of milk, then glanced at Lee while closing the fridge door. “Didn’t your friend ‘Phillip’ say that Daryl had been seeing someone?”
Lee nodded, sat on the sofa and flattened his ruffled hair. “I never met her. It seems that no one did, which is strange. Either she’s an illegal, got two heads or she’s married.”
I tried not to laugh.
“Anyway, then I checked his mobile. There weren’t many text messages. I guess he deleted them.”
I stirred the coffees. “Do you think he has this person’s number in his phone? How creepy would that be?”
“His contact list reads like a business pages of plumbers, electricians... I presumed a lot of the phone numbers were clients, listed by profession so he’d know who was who.”
I carried the drinks into the dining room and lowered myself onto the sofa.
“Thanks, Chelsea.” Lee took the mug from my hand, then changed seats and sat at the computer. “Still nothing yet,” he said, swivelling in the chair like a child. “Did you come up with any leads?”
“Diddly-squat. My friends and I—” I paused, sipping from my ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ mug.
“Did they have any suggestions about who you could’ve upset?”
“I didn’t mention it last night. Laura’s got enough on her plate. Besides, they saw the email the other day and said it wasn’t worth worrying about.”
Lee tilted his head to one side. “Really?” He put his mug down and tapped a pen on the desk.
“Well, actually, Emma asked me about it last night. She thinks it’s a virus. My best friend… well, Laura didn’t seem concerned. She thought it rude to call me a ‘slag’ in the email, but that’s about all she said on the subject, apart from warning me about viruses.”
Slowly our eyes connected. Like smoke drifting away after a fire, my cloudy mind started to clear.
Lee scratched his chin. “I thought Laura was your best friend.”
“She is.”
“So she must have questioned you, right? Had an opinion as to what it’s about.”
A bad sensation stirred within me. “Not really.”
“How could she not be concerned?”
I jerked forward. He’d s
aid my exact thought.
Was Laura just uninterested, or avoiding the subject? My head scribbled circles. Then I drifted back to the hen night.
Laura said she hadn’t overheard my conversation with Lee in the bar. Why? She’d been standing right next to me. She must have overheard some of it. Then, I remembered her not wanting me to meet Lee last night, and questioning me about him over the phone. Why didn’t she want me to be with Lee? Her strange behaviour gnawed away inside me. My stomach twisted, feeling like a tight knot had formed in its centre.
“She probably is a little worried for you, right?”
I thought about how Paul had described Laura earlier. “No. More like... irritated.” I felt my scalp tingle. “And she has been snappy and distant lately.”
“Hey, look out.” Suddenly, Lee dashed across the room. He grabbed the mug from my hand just as it tilted. Coffee spilled over the rim and splashed onto the laminate floor.
I stood. Lost in thought, I left Lee to wipe the spillage while I paced the room numerous times. “Why would she be irritated?” Every step pressed down faster, fiercer, until my head was filled to the brim with accusations. Paul was right. Laura’s recent behaviour was so out of character; the ever-rising wall between us, her secrecy, the outburst about the parcel she collected in town, wedding nerves distracting me from... lies?
I whirled around, faced the opposing wall and perched my hands on my hips.
“Chelsea?”
I ignored Lee.
Maybe my best friend wasn’t actually as sweet as her voice suggested. Out of everyone I knew, Laura had the biggest reason of all to hate me.
CHAPTER 9
I drove my Corsa through the rain-soaked streets, anxious to beat the traffic lights at every junction. Nervous energy made my body jitter and the heavy rain heightened my agitated mood. “I haven’t got a clue where Daryl fits in. All I know is, Laura has one mother of a reason to hate me.”
“What reason? And keep calm,” Lee said.
“Calm? My best friend could be involved in a plot against me!” I slapped the steering wheel. “And according to your theory, a plot to kill me! Ugh! I have to talk to her, right now.”