TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Thriller)

by H Elliston

  Here we go!

  I wanted to punch his lights out for what he’d put us through. Trying to act unruffled by his presence, I stretched across the worktop for some snacks.

  Mark leaned over my shoulder and whispered against my cheek. He smelled of beer. “What on earth did I ever do to deserve this?”

  His use of the past tense baffled me for a second. The problem was still ongoing, wasn’t it?. And for a ruthless blackmailer and a possible killer, he sounded quite hurt by my countermove.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” he snorted.

  I only just stopped myself from yelling, ‘Cut the bullshit. I know it’s you.’

  While grabbing a handful of peanuts, I felt fingers slide over my bottom. “Hey!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”

  Did I need to add ‘pervert’ to the list of his recent faults?

  The peanuts fell out of my hand. I slammed myself back onto the stool, touched my back jean pocket and noticed that my mobile had vanished. I turned and glared up at Mark. Standing at my side, he held three mobile phones in his large hands and was smirking like a cheeky kid.

  Shit, shit, shit! Why didn’t I realise he’d do this? He was after the photos. He’d be hacking our computers next.

  Laura muttered something unintelligible, gaped at the phones in Mark’s hands.

  Unable to speak for fear of the wrong words slipping out in front of the girls, I stayed quiet. If they learned the truth, they’d kick up a fuss and Paul would hear the commotion.

  I grabbed for my phone, but Mark shoved me away and hugged them in his arms. I slipped off the stool and before righting myself, he snatched the other phones from the worktop.

  The girls, now looking through a stack of CD’s in the corner, didn’t notice their mobiles had gone.

  Mark left the room without saying another word, but not before shooting me a vicious look over his shoulder. He was clearly angry, livid in fact, although his glassy eyes suggested a level of upset. I guess he now knew he wasn’t the only one capable of calling the shots.

  How can I shop him to the police without a phone?

  A fast-beat dance track boomed from the kitchen speakers, and panic bubbled inside me. “Sod it!” I got to my feet. I raced after Mark, jumped onto his back in the hall and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Give them back,” I yelled. “I want the phones.”

  Laura ran in front of Mark and tried to work the phones out of his grip. A tug-of-war ensued.

  “Grab them, Laura!” I shouted.

  Mark wriggled his shoulders, jerked himself around to shake me off.

  “You’re insane, both of you,” Mark roared, twisting and turning.

  Then, Mark lost balance and fell to the floor, taking us both down with him.

  A door creaked nearby.

  “What the blazes is going on here?” Paul hollered, towering over us.

  Mark snatched the phones again. He stood and shouldered past Paul into the lounge. “I’ll leave you two to explain,” he snarled, then pushed the lounge door shut behind him.

  Clever, I thought.

  Paul moved his questioning stare back and forth between Laura and me. “Well?” He reached his hand out and pulled Laura to her feet.

  She smoothed her clothing and it took her a good thirty seconds to reply. “It’s nothing.”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “You’ve been saying that all day about those weird text messages. Something’s going on around here and I want to know what it is.” Paul crossed his arms over his chest.

  I thought fast. “We were playing around. Winding Mark up for a bit of fun. You know how it is.” I forced myself to laugh.

  “Why has Mark got your phones?” he asked.

  I looked at Laura for help. There was something tragic about her crumpled face, as though she thought this was the long-dreaded moment of truth. Her mouth began pulsing open and closed like a goldfish. She made spluttering sounds, but nothing intelligible.

  “Like that, is it?” Paul said, then faced me, set his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Chelsea, will you please tell me what’s going on? You know I’ve been worried about Laura, lately.”

  I flinched at the sting from my graze as he squeezed my shoulder. I pushed his hand away.

  “Well?”

  Panic pinched at my heart. After all we’d done to hide the truth from Paul, I wasn’t willing to let this one incident blow it for Laura. Not like this. And not now I’d found the rucksack and was so close to proving Mark’s guilt. “Silly photos,” I blurted out of nowhere. “For the wedding. Yes. Mark wants embarrassing photos to show during his speech.” I lifted my eyebrows and nodded at Laura, prompting her to back me up.

  Mouth no longer bouncing open, Laura began to copy my nod and broke from her shock-daze. “And we don’t want him to have them.”

  Disbelief entered Paul’s eyes which narrowed to a squint. He turned, curled his palm over the chrome door handle to the lounge. “I think I should take a look at these photos.”

  “No.” Laura slid her arms around Paul’s waist, pressed her cheek against his back and hugged him tight.

  He shuffled around, dragging her with him. “Why not?”

  “Because,” I jumped in. “If you see them, it’ll spoil Mark’s speech tomorrow. Won’t it, Laura?”

  “Yes. Everything’s fine, Paul.” Laura stopped hugging him and slotted her fingers between his. “It’s just a bit of fun. We over-reacted. Please don’t mention it to Mark.”

  “Are you sure? It looked like you were both attacking him.”

  “Yes,” we said together. “We’re sure.”

  “Okay,” Paul said. “If it will spoil the wedding speech, I’ll not mention it. I think Mark’s got the jitters about it all and I don’t want to make things worse for him.”

  “Thanks,” Laura said. She kissed him and he disappeared into the lounge.

  I wiped my brow theatrically at Laura. “Close one.”

  Megan shouted for us. We hugged before returning to the music-filled kitchen.

  “Where’s my mobile?” Megan asked, sifting through items on the worktop. She looked up. “Have you seen it, Chelsea?”

  Emma joined in the search. “Hey! Where’s mine?”

  “Scumbag Mark’s got them,” I thought angrily to myself, perching my bottom on a stool.

  Megan’s eyes increased in size. “Mark?”

  “Shit!” My hand went to my mouth. I’d said that aloud?

  “Why’s he got my phone?” Megan stormed towards the door. “I want it back. Now.”

  Laura slammed the kitchen door shut in front of Megan. A blast of air brushed across my face.

  Laura pressed her back against the door. “No!” she bellowed, extending a hand to keep Megan at arm’s length. Laura had wild eyes and flared nostrils. “This is my party. No phone calls, no texting, no Facebook. You can have them back later.”

  “I want it now,” Megan insisted.

  Anger sharp in her eyes, Laura pointed at the worktop. “I don’t need this right now. Go and pour a drink or something and get this party swinging.”

  “After I get—”

  “Now! Now!” Laura’s booming tone impacted the room like firing both barrels of a shotgun.

  Even I flinched.

  Megan edged backwards.

  The other girls’ mouths hung loose.

  I beckoned and Laura plodded over to me.

  She heaved a groan. “What in the world are we going to do now? How can I text Mark? How can he text me? We’ll have to use bloody yoghurt pots and string at this rate.”

  “Forget the phones,” I whispered. “I need to tell you something.”

  CHAPTER 30

  When Jess raced to the downstairs toilet, sick from too much booze, I pulled Laura through the hall to the dining room and shut the door behind us.

  A deep furrow appeared on her forehead. “Now tell me about this bag.”

  I wanted our lives to return to how they were a week ago. I knew that wasn’t po
ssible and that I was about to toss a firecracker into Laura’s dark world, because, suddenly, I could sense it deep in my gut. Mark had caved in to my demand too easily. Something else felt wrong. “The purple rucksack is in your garage.”

  Now Laura was squeezing my arm. “Are you sure? Is it really my bag?”

  “I haven’t seen inside, but it looked like yours. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  Laura rubbed the back of her neck. “So, you think Mark’s returned the cash?”

  “Let’s not get excited just yet. I’ll sneak into the garage and get the bag. Meet you back here in a few minutes.” I slipped outside, bursting with impatience.

  “Hi!” A voice from the footpath startled me.

  I spun around, spotted Laura’s Aunt Carol walking up the driveway.

  Of all the times to show up!

  Unfortunately for Laura, Carol lived only a couple of streets away. She was only ten years Laura’s senior, yet looked much older with clown-bright badly applied make-up. The tatty unbuttoned leather jacket did her no favours on the age score, nor did it conceal her breasts which looked ready to spill out of her low-cut top. But at least they were still inside her top, today, well, for now.

  “Hey. Erm, does Laura know you’re coming?”

  “Thought I’d surprise her.” She glanced around the cramped driveway. “Glad I did. Is she having a party?”

  “No,” I said, quickly. “The neighbours are. She’s... umm... given them the use of her drive, that’s all.”

  Carol walked towards the house and smiled, revealing red lipstick traces on her front teeth. “I’ll pop in and say hello, seems as I’m here now. She should be celebrating, last night as a single woman ‘n’ all.”

  “No!” If Laura’s aunt placed even one toe over the threshold and got a sniff of the booze inside, the evening could become more unpalatable than it already was.

  We came together in the middle of the drive and I blocked her way. I hooked her arm like I would a best friend, and slyly steered her in a half-circle until her back faced the house. “Laura doesn’t want any visitors. She’s having an early night. Hell! She’s even kicked me out! I think we should leave her to it, don’t you? Give her some ‘me’ time. She’s probably in the bath by now.”

  “I just want to talk to her.” She tried to push my hand away but prodded me.

  “Ow! Careful,” I said.

  “I’ve done something stupid.”

  A heady whiff of alcohol blew onto my face. “Then don’t do anything else that’s stupid. Go home and sleep it off.” I winked. “I won’t tell Laura, if you don’t.”

  “I’ve brought her a gift.” Carol waved a white lace garter under my nose. “Every bride needs one of these to get the groom’s juices flowing.”

  Oh my Lord! I struggled to imagine a more embarrassing type of relative. If Laura even made it to the wedding reception, I’d have to conjure up a plan to keep Carol off the dance floor before she started swinging from chandeliers. “It’s a pretty garter. Just what she needs. But give it to her in the morning.” I closed Carol’s palm around the garter and walked her down the drive.

  “I’ll pop over again later,” she said. “When she’s out of the bath.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “No! You bloody won’t! Go home. Drink coffee. Sleep. Don’t come back until tomorrow!” I shoved her off the drive. I felt incredibly rude, but letting her get more sloshed in front of Laura, today of all days, would be another bitter lump we could do without. After she wobbled, clearly offended, out of sight to walk home, I unlocked the garage, raced to the cupboard and lifted out the rucksack.

  Back in the dining room, my heart beating fast, I set the bag on the table. The zip rasped when I slid it along. My hand shook, scared of what I’d find inside, and scared of what I wouldn’t.

  Laura tiptoed into the room and pushed the door shut. “So, what have you found?”

  “Let’s see.” I upturned the bag and shook it. A handful of cash, a disposable razor, knickers, red rose petals, my missing eighth steak knife and a creased photo tumbled onto the wooden table.

  Laura flattened the crumpled photo with her palm, then staggered back. “Jesus! That’s a picture of me and Daryl.”

  I traced my finger along the bumpy photograph. Among the many creases, there was a cut in the paper across Daryl’s head. But it was clearly him.

  “Lee was right.” I stared at the red petals, thought about the roses which Mark had sent to Laura the other day. “Mark really is the one doing this.”

  “Where’s the rest of the cash? The coins?”

  I roughly counted the money. Little more than five hundred in notes lay on the table. Loose change from thirty-five thousand.

  “This could be a down payment.” I tried to make sense of it. “We didn’t give him much time to return the money.”

  “So this proves it really is Mark who’s blackmailing me.” Laura smiled, punched the air, then squashed my cheeks together and kissed my face. “You did it, Chelsea. You’re amazing. That photo with the doll did the trick!”

  Far less animated, I said, “It was Lee actually, but anyway, let’s think about how to handle this.” I didn’t feel amazing. In fact, I couldn’t believe it, but knew it must be true. Two people I’d dated since the end of last year had caused whopping great problems in Laura’s life. Carl and the car crash, Mark and blackmail. Me plus a man, any man, equalled trouble. End of.

  Laura danced up and down. “It’s over, Chelsea. I can’t believe it. Let’s drag Mark in here and confront him. Jeez! I really thought he was a nice guy. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”

  Laura continued celebrating, bobbing on the spot and grinning. After I caved in and gave her a high five, she stopped jumping and looked at the table. Her eyebrows shot up. “Holy cow! Are those my knickers?” She checked the label.

  I stared at the black, Agent Provocateur panties with my mouth agape. “Perhaps it’s more than a crush. Mark’s a pervert with some obsessive jealousy. Even Paul agrees he’s got the hots for you. He came to my house a few days ago and asked my opinion.”

  Laura clamped her cheeks between her palms. “Paul knows that Mark likes me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Christ!” Laura shuddered then looked down at the table. “Oh, I can’t the bear the thought of Mark fingering my underwear or going through my drawers. What a sleazebag.”

  I snatched the knickers, intending to hide them behind my back to make her focus on me, but caught the photo as I whisked them off the table. The picture floated down to the floor. It landed on the reverse side, revealing the hotmail address ‘no fool,’ written in black, scrawny handwriting, and the words ‘tick tock’ smeared in what looked like blood. I stuffed the knickers in my back pocket and picked up the photo.

  “What have you seen, Chelsea?”

  I flipped the photo around.

  Laura squealed. “Yikes! Is that blood?”

  It stained my finger when I rubbed it. “It’s sort of greasy. Lipstick.”

  “Who wrote the email address?” Laura asked.

  Her answer left no reason to ask if she recognised the child-like handwriting.

  I placed the photo on the table, then fingered through the bag contents again. “It’s like a collection of clues pointing to himself. Why would Mark do something so stupid?”

  “Mark’s crazy.”

  “Cash is one thing, but this… He may as well just sign a confession.”

  “Again, Mark’s crazy. He must be.” Laura pulled out a dining chair and plonked herself down on it.

  I tapped my lips with a finger. “Did you phone Mark’s office to ask if he was at work when we dropped the money off?”

  “Yes. The receptionist said he was in meetings all morning, and finished work around lunch time.”

  I glared at Laura. Mark had an alibi. “So how could he be in two places at once?”

  She shrugged. “He must have an accomplic
e. Whatever, Chelsea. Come on.” She tugged my sleeve. “Let’s get this over with and confront him.”

  The feeling that something else was wrong, circled me like a faint smell of gas when I hadn’t yet realized someone was about to strike a match. “Something’s off.”

  Laura narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

  “I was sitting in the kitchen, in clear view of the hall after I threatened Mark with that photo, right?”

  She nodded.

  “But Mark didn’t go out the front door. So how did he stash this bag in the garage?”

  Laura dragged both hands down her face. “I don’t know. Perhaps he put it there earlier. Who cares?”

  “No. That means he put it there before we threatened him.” I scratched my forehead. “Something else is confusing me,” I said.

  “What now?”

  “Mark shouldn’t care about deleting the photos from my mobile. If he’s left this evidence for us, he should have realised his mistake. These items could send him down for blackmail.” I locked my questioning gaze on Laura. “And why would he steal your phone? How can he communicate about the next money drop?”

  “He was probably too pissed at us to care which phone was which. Maybe he thinks I won’t dare take this bag of evidence to the police, in case Paul finds out what I did.”

  “So he doesn’t care about the money anymore and he’s playing another game? Giving you the option to convict him, but at the expense of losing Paul?”

  Laura’s lips jutted out. “Perhaps.”

  Confusion tensed my muscles. “No. I don’t buy it. Mark looked genuinely shocked by my blackmailing him with that photo, didn’t he?”

  “Most people would be. You’ve turned the tables on him. So what?”

  “So,” I shot back at her. “Why would he be shocked? Surely he’d expect us to make some sort of move? After all, he knows us pretty darn well.”

  “True.”

  I had missed something, taken the wrong turn somewhere and ended up stuck in a ditch of confusion. “Mark’s played us well… until now.” I paced between the table and conservatory door. “So why let us find these items that could send him to the slammer? And if he’s got the hots for you so badly, why blow his chances with you, by letting you know it’s him?”