by H Elliston
Lee brought his face closer. “Yes, but what’s that?” He stared harder. “Some type of certificate?”
“Yes,” I said. “Framed on a wall.”
Lee drew a deep breath. “I think it’s a photo of Daryl’s licence to practice. It’s hanging on the wall in his office. Why would that be—”
Laura stalked across to us. “Log off.” She sounded like she’d swallowed something dry. “It’s nonsense. If you let the messages get to you, you’re playing right into this sicko’s hands.”
“Smash the damn computer if it bothers you,” Paul said, checking his watch.
Lee gave Paul an unimpressed glare then looked back at the screen. “Daryl’s standing near his local shops in that photo, and to take a picture of his certificate this person has to have been in his office at some point. Someone must have been spying on him.” He set his hand on my shoulder. “How the hell is my brother linked to you, Chelsea?”
Searching the ceiling for an answer, I said, “I don’t have a clue.” I realised that smashing the computer was what Daryl must have done, but settled for snapping the lid shut. I didn’t pass any further comment on the email. Discussions hadn’t changed things so far, and knowing Daryl was involved wasn’t anything new. I just hoped that receiving this email would aid the police. The tech guys would surely see it.
“Shall we make a move?” Paul slid his arms around Laura’s waist, then kissed her neck below her ear.
She leaned her head against his, and then they walked hand in hand to the front door.
“See you later,” Lee said, with a cunning smile. “I’ve got a few things to organise, then I’ll come and get you.”
I moved towards the door, then stopped and looked over my shoulder. “What things?”
“Later.”
“Can’t I have a hint?”
He shook his head, laughed, and pretended to kick me out of his house. “Go on. Get lost and don’t be nosey.”
I wondered if he half-enjoyed keeping me in suspense. Hadn’t I had enough of that to last me a life time already?
As I climbed into the back of Laura’s BMW convertible, I couldn’t imagine being in a car any more conspicuous. It stood out like a diamond smile among frowns. A real head-turner. After visiting the florist and wedding reception venue, the afternoon disappeared quickly.
“We’ll head to my place now, Chelsea.” Laura twisted round in the front seat to look at me. “The lady should be arriving soon to practice our make-up for the wedding. Is that okay?”
I nodded. If I was going to die tonight, I may as well look my best.
Emma was already waiting in her car on Laura’s drive when we rolled up. She’d booked the afternoon off work. Laura chatted to us both over coffee in the kitchen, showcasing her bouquet of flowers, which Paul had brought home after his stag do.
I went upstairs and took a much-needed shower before the make-up lady arrived.
Wrapped in a towel, I entered Laura’s bedroom and opened the wardrobe to borrow some clothes. A boutique of coloured fabric erupted in front of me, making it hard to choose.
The doorbell rang downstairs.
I assumed the make-up artist had arrived. I ran my hand along the hangers playing Russian roulette to speed up my selection. I didn’t want the make-up artist to have to wait for me. I saw a sharp pair of skinny jeans and squeezed into them – although, it would have helped if I’d used some Vaseline. After pulling a white fitted t-shirt over my head, I noticed a large silver box on the shelf below my waist – her wedding veil.
Unable to resist a quick peek, I made sure no one was coming upstairs then slid the box onto the carpet, steeling myself for the expected bang or thud to announce my snooping. With the t-shirt circling my neck like a scarf, I looked inside the box. Crystals were dotted hapharzardly over the veil like drops of frozen water. Laura will kill me. I’d seen her mother’s wedding dress, but the veil was off limits, even to me. I replaced the lid at double speed, foolishly hoping this meant I hadn’t snooped.
Stuffed at the back of the same shelf, a pink carrier bag with a stiletto logo caught my eye. Her wedding shoes. The same irresistible urge to snoop returned with force. Before I knew it, my hands clamped onto the bag and dragged it onto the carpet.
“Get a move on, Chelsea,” Laura shouted from downstairs.
“Just a minute,” I yelled. I almost put the bag back, but the weight of it stopped me. I stared, wondering why a pair of dainty shoes would equal the weight of a bag or two of sugar. Did she intend on walking down the aisle in steel-capped boots? Driven by curiosity, I placed my hand on the shoebox lid inside the bag. Squinting – and as if expecting spiders to crawl out – I lifted it.
“Christ! What’s this doing here?” I muttered. My hand crumpled the cardboard lid. The last thing I’d expected was to find a large stash of bank notes. So many that they spilled over the rim.
I slipped my arms through the sleeves of my t-shirt, then grabbed a fistful of notes and started counting. Not even denting the pile when I reached a thousand pounds, I began pulling the money out in wads to speed up the count. I’d never had this much paper money in my hands before. It was a hell of a lot. I spotted another bag at the back of the wardrobe which was heavy with enough pound coins to almost fill a bucket.
The guilt of peeking at Laura’s wedding veil fell weak and pale in comparison to discovering her money stash. Pins and needles prickled my feet, so I slumped my bottom on the floor and stretched my legs in a V around the money.
Why does Laura have so much in cash? To pay for the wedding? Hiding it from the taxman?
I laid the notes in a row across the bedroom carpet. By now, the growing line reached the back of the bedroom door. A floorboard creaked on the landing. I tried to stretch and wedge the door shut with my foot. “Don’t come in. I’m naked.”
Too late.
The door swung open, fanning the bank notes across the carpet.
Startled, I looked up.
“What the hell are you doing, Chelsea?” Flushed red and glaring, Laura gave me a look hot enough to combust.
“I…”
She stomped into the bedroom and slammed the door with such force it made me jump. She kicked a wad of cash, sending it flying in my direction. “Naked my ass!” she snarled. “What the hell are you doing? How dare you!”
I figured an apology wouldn’t cut it, but had to try. “I’m sorry. Take a breath, will you? It’s not how it looks. I found the shoe bag and thought—”
“Thought what? That you’d make some sort of sculpture out of my money on the carpet? Get out. Just get out of my room, Chelsea. I can’t believe you’d snoop like this.”
“But, Laura. I’m really sorry. You said I could borrow some clothes and then I saw the bag and…”
She kicked another pile of notes across the room. “I said you could invade my wardrobe, not my privacy!”
I stared at the money on the floor. It covered the carpet looking like I’d chucked large pieces of confetti up in the air and let it rain down on me in celebration. “I was concerned. This is a lot of cash, Laura. I thought maybe it was to pay for the wedding, then I got worried you were hiding income from the tax man.”
“Wonderful!” she said, her nasty voice slicing through me. “It’s not enough to snoop, now you’re accusing me of tax evasion. Get out of my sight, Chelsea.”
Heart thundering, I stood up. “Fine. But I wasn’t planning on stealing it or anything. You know I’d never do that.”
Laura dropped to her knees and began scooping up the notes. “It’s just rent money,” she muttered. “Some of my tenants pay cash. I’ve not had time to bank it.”
I bent down. “Let me help you.”
She knocked my hand away, turned her red face on me and practically growled, “Go away. I’ll sort it. Don’t let anyone come upstairs until I’m done. And don’t say a word about this to anyone. Think you can handle that?”
“What are you so mad about? You’re overreacting. Oh! Yo
u’re doing my head in!” I left the room, closed the door and waited on the middle of the stairs, blocking it off. I had never known Laura to be this furious.
A short while later, the bedroom door slid open. I darted downstairs to the lounge, greeted the make-up artist and sat down next to Emma.
“What’s bugging you?” Emma asked. “You look terrible.”
“Nothing. Just…” I thought fast. “I slipped on the stairs. Gave myself a fright.”
Laura avoided eye contact with me when she returned to the lounge. I considered phoning a taxi and leaving, but the truth was, I didn’t want to explain to Emma why we’d fallen out. That would only have made matters worse.
The make-up artist began working her magic on our faces. Laura’s obvious aloof behaviour gave way to a worsening unease between us. It annoyed me because I had only been concerned for her. But then, it did look real suss being caught red-handed with her secret money stash.
A pampering was exactly what I needed this afternoon. Just the sort of boost I needed to put some confidence back into me. Though, avoiding thinking about my problems didn’t last long.
Emma broke the uncomfortable silence. “Remember getting pampered a couple of months ago?”
“Yeah, what an awesome day,” I said. “Paul sure must have emptied his wallet to pay for it, eh, Laura?”
She smiled, but it was clearly forced.
Paul had called me and Emma in secret from Laura’s phone, to arrange the surprise for her at a salon in town. I remembered the photo from this day on my fireplace. Although I enjoyed the memory, a sick feeling rose thinking about my switched photos. It only served to remind me that someone had broken into my house. Was there no escape from my problems?
We chatted, drinking Champagne, until the make-up artist finished. It was all false. Laura still refused point blank to meet my gaze. The awkwardness between us really grated on me.
Laura and I spent the next hour chatting to Emma, but not each other, until Paul entered the kitchen. He gasped when he took in his bride-to-be, lifted her off her feet and gave her a kiss. “You look stunning, sweetheart.” He put her down, and then looked at me and Emma. “You all do.”
I laughed at Laura’s pink gloss which now sparkled on Paul’s lips, too.
After a car horn honked outside, Emma stood up to leave. “Hate to break up the party. My taxi’s here.”
I waved goodbye. “See you soon.”
Laura showed Emma out before returning to the kitchen to chop onions for dinner. Paul hovered until Laura told him she had dinner under control. He left the room.
I wondered what I should have been doing to help my situation instead of sipping champagne all afternoon through perfectly glossed lips. “I should get going, too.” Where the hell is Lee? I hated the sharp atmosphere between me and Laura. Just as I fished my mobile out of my bag to dial him, the doorbell buzzed. “That’ll be Lee.” I hoped.
I jumped off the stool, but Laura grabbed my upper arm and tugged me back. She stared at me through hard, serious eyes. “Don’t go to his house, Chelsea.”
I pushed her hand away. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Why shouldn’t I go to Lee’s? What’s brought this on?”
She seemed to struggle to speak. “I just feel like you’re walking into a lion’s den.”
“A what?”
She wiped tears from her eyes then looked away. “Damn onion. You hardly know Lee. And I’m not sure I either like or trust him.”
Ah! A truth had popped out.
Laura brought the knife down hard and speared another onion.
I flinched, then folded my arms across my chest and studied her face, trying to see beyond her bad attitude. “One minute you act like there isn’t a problem, then you throw tantrums and give me the silent treatment, and now you’re saying things like that… a ‘lion’s den!’ I thought it was the wedding and missing your parents that’s affecting you, then of course the emails. I’m not so sure anymore. You’re like a bouncing ball with your moods. Talk to me, Laura. What’s going on with you this week?”
The doorbell buzzed again. Footsteps sounded in the hall. “I’ll get it,” Paul shouted.
Laura’s gaze shifted to the hall and she pinched her lips together.
I tried to meet her eyes. “So what does Paul think I should do tonight?”
“Shhh.” Her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “Keep your voice down, will you?”
In this moment, it dawned on me that Laura had edited the story for Paul. I perched one bum cheek on the stool and lowered my voice. “You haven’t told him everything, have you? Why on earth not?”
“I have. Sort of.” She wrestled the knife out of the onion and began chopping faster. “It won’t help the situation if everyone worries themselves into an early grave.”
“Look. I have to go. Phone me once you’ve screwed your head on the right way.”
CHAPTER 16
“Okay,” I said to Lee as soon as we got inside his car. Being angry at Laura gave me a fresh determination. “Let’s do it your way.”
His grip loosened on the steering wheel, and he raised an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”
My lips began vibrating as I said, “I’ll be your bait. Lure the son of a bitch to your house, and let’s end this thing tonight.”
Lee eased off on the accelerator. “Are you sure?”
“No, but let’s do it.”
Lee shifted down a few gears. He drove so slowly that I wondered if we’d start sliding backwards. With my window wound down, we kerb crawled past my house and places I frequented, to lure anyone who might be keeping watch.
Eventually, we headed to Lee’s place. Wasting no time, he began rigging devices all over his house. I hovered by the lounge window in clear view of anyone watching from the street. As my anger towards Laura began subsiding, I wondered if I was doing the right thing, until Lee began working in this room, distracting me. Claustrophobia threatened to creep in when he closed the curtains then hammered planks of wood across the window I’d been parading in front of. The living room fell under shadow. From the outside, it would just look like the curtains were drawn. An intruder could now only enter via the front door. And, we would be ready, waiting.
“What can I do to help?” I said.
He set the hammer on the coffee table and picked up a reel of wire. “Tie this to that net.”
We suspended a large bowling ball in a net above the landing, and attached it to tripwires pinned at intervals across the stairs. The house transformed into a booby-trap exhibition within less than an hour. Drinking glasses were balanced on door handles, ball bearings dropped in the hall - the whole deal.
“All set?” I asked.
He gave me the thumbs up from over the banister. His lateral thinking, even if somewhat surreal, made me think I’d gotten myself involved with a cross between Rambo and the kid from the movie ‘Home Alone.’ I held back the words, ‘When’s the camouflage paint coming out?’
Evidently, Lee had wasted no time getting prepared for this evening. If I hadn’t agreed to his idea of being bait, then I’d have felt angry at how much thought he’d put into the idea without my agreement. At least he had ideas. I didn’t. A flux of guilt shot through me for having spent a lazy afternoon sipping Champagne when he must have been raiding DIY stores. I waited, leaning against the doorframe to the lounge until he came back downstairs. I had no intention of distracting him while he double-checked the traps, but his eyes ran over my body when squeezing past me.
He stopped, then turned and placed his palm flat next to my ear on the doorframe. “I didn’t say anything earlier, but you look amazing.” He angled his head. I figured he’d noticed my make-up. “Had a good day?”
I nodded.
He touched my hair, began twiddling it with his fingers.
I gazed in his eyes for a little longer than I wanted to, and smelled his mint breath, warm on my face. A delicious shiver -
which I tried to fight off - worked its way through me.
He released my hair and let it fall around my face. His gaze honed in on mine again, and grew intense.
I ducked under his arm and moved into the lounge.
He let out a rough, breathy sound behind me.
I smirked to myself. At least our little cat and mouse game gave me something else to think about.
After Lee checked the traps again, we sat in the lounge and watched the clock.
“Your home-made security system is quite impressive. Where did you learn all this stuff, tripwires and so on?”
“It’s not rocket science.”
“I bet you watch a lot of movies. And I wish tonight was one movie we already know the ending to.”
“You’re going to be fine.” Lee swept a lock of hair off my face. “Don’t forget the police are keeping an eye out, too.”
The thought of the unknown intruder coming for me, intensified. It was only a few hours away. “But, if someone does get past the traps, what then? We need a plan.”
“I’ll knock ‘em out.” He slid his hand into the gap between the sofa cushions and tugged out a crowbar. “My swing’s a bit rusty.” He pointed the bar towards the kitchen. “But, those knives aren’t. Besides, you’ll be safely out of the way, and whoever’s after you will have me to deal with. I’ve got a score to settle.”
I stared at Lee, hoping some of his confidence would rub off on me.
“Then we’ll call the police. Or rather, you will from upstairs. You’ll find a bag on the landing with something to defend yourself with. Ever turned an aerosol into a flamethrower?”
“Not lately.”
“I won’t let it get that far.” Lee winked. “I promise. The murdering son of a bitch won’t set a foot near you.”
“Okay, but what if we don’t hear anyone enter, or what if this person has—” I bit my lip. “A gun?”
“No one can get in here without making a noise. They can only get in through the front, and I’ll be waiting.”
“I’m not sure about this. So many things could go wrong. All I can think of is ‘what if he brings a gun?’ I can’t just hide in the bathroom and let you deal with things alone.” My throat tightened. I hadn’t truly contemplated, until I said the word gun aloud, just how badly things could end.