by H Elliston
“Hurry up.”
“It’s in one of these.” I tipped another bag upside down, shook it in desperation.
Paul stomped across the room. He looked out through the spiderwebbed window, left and then right.
In the back of my mind I was overjoyed with Laura’s aunt for being an alcoholic. Her inability to resist the lure of free alcohol became my golden ticket to survival. She was a drunk. But she would do. More than do, right now.
Paul continued stomping around, kicked objects out of his way, then opened and closed a door.
Heart stampeding, I emptied the contents of another bag onto the floor, but found only a dressing gown and underwear. I’d have to just bite him, kick him between the legs, push my thumbs into his eyes and run for it.
A high-pitched screech pierced the house.
I looked over my shoulder. Carol flung the kitchen door open. Light streamed in, silhouetting her. A huge gush of relief sailed through me.
“What the hell have you done?” Carol yelled.
I looked behind her, searching for the police. Oh, no! She’s come alone? “Useless, drunken idiot,” I yelled out.
Carol glanced down at me with dark, creepy eyes. “Son of a bitch.” Carol shook a fist at Paul. “This isn’t what we discussed.”
The side of Paul’s lip, and his nose, twitched. “Whatever.”
I shuddered. Oh, my God! The truth hit me with an agonizing gut twist. Laura’s closest living relative had screwed her over as well.
“Christ, Paul! You weren’t meant to kill anyone. Laura’s my only niece!”
Paul tapped the blade on the granite worktop.
“You said if I delivered that photo to Chelsea’s house, I’d get my share and no one would get hurt. Paul! You promised!”
Paul gave Carol a steely glare. “You tried to run Chelsea down. You knew people were going to get hurt.”
Carol clamped a hand at the side of her head. “I panicked. You said she was supposed to be sleeping at some guy’s house.”
I tensed while listening. My muscles felt like elastic bands at their snap limit.
Paul faced Carol. “Enough of this. But just you remember, if you hadn’t threatened me for a cut, things might have gone as planned.”
“I wanted what’s rightfully mine.” Her words slurred. “I got jack shit in the will, and Laura was never going to give me those jewels. But this…”
I stared at Carol in disbelief, as though she wasn’t real, like she’d disintegrate in front of me. Unfortunately, she didn’t. “You bitch!” I blurted out, wanting to throttle her.
Carol looked down at me. After a long, intense stare, she signalled towards the door with her head before looking back at Paul. “You’ve gone too far. God, I’ve been so stupid. You only kissed me to get me on side,” she said, then lurched at him.
His big fist slammed into her nose.
Blood spurted and she stumbled, her head smacking against the edge of the door. She slumped to the floor like a bag of cement near Megan.
“Waste of oxygen,” Paul said with disgust. “No one holds me to ransom.” Then glaring at me, he muttered, “I’d have got rid of her sooner, if I thought the police wouldn’t have come sniffing round. She caught me with the money. Threatened to tell Laura what she’d seen. Kissing her was like snogging a drooling dog. Nosey, irritating cow, always popping up when you least expect it.”
Paul shoved Carol with his foot, then pushed the hall door shut.
I didn’t have time to get over the shock. Frantically, I turned my back, clawing my way through the contents of Emma’s bags again. I was more desperate than ever to find something I could use as a weapon. Not only to hit Paul, but to clobber Carol with as well. My mind felt like a bingo machine, balls of ideas, which I couldn’t take hold of, flying around in a spinning drum.
I found Emma’s Dictaphone – the one we’d used to pose as reporters on the hen night. Why has she brought it here? Not that I cared. I clicked the record button. If we were all going to die, then I needed to make damn sure that Paul would go down for it. I kept the Dictaphone hidden in the bag, then felt around again. I touched some plastic cable with my fingers, grabbed hold and dragged whatever was attached to the end of it onto the floor. Hair straighteners.
A second later, Paul grabbed my shoulder. He spun me around. I stared up at him. An evil gleam in his dark eyes spurred me into action. I whacked his lower leg with the straighteners.
“Ouch! You little—” he snarled, kicked the straighteners clean out of my hand. “You’ve got ten seconds to show me the cash.” His savage voice was more menacing by being a whisper. “Nine. I’m not messing around here. Eight…”
I stared at him. His gloved finger was now under my chin, tilting my head up.
“Six, five…”
I couldn’t stop shaking. “Okay. Okay, Paul!” I managed between breaths, making a point of shouting his name for the recording. “The cash is in the bag in the cupboard. You’re a murderer, a blackmailer, and you’ve earned it.”
Paul sneered down at me. “No more games. Pass me the damn bag.”
I grabbed it from the cupboard and held the swinging white bag up towards Paul’s insanely raging face. A can of hairspray rolled out of one of Emma’s bags that I’d shoved out of the way.
“Open it!”
I dropped the bag to the floor. The zipper gave a raspy protest as I pulled it open. I lifted a bundle of bank notes in the air while subtly scanning for the hairspray.
Paul reached down to snatch the money.
Out of nowhere, glass shattered distantly in the house. I flinched and dropped the cash.
I couldn’t believe this miracle. Carol must have done the right thing and phoned the police.
CHAPTER 35
A coarse, muffled voice bellowed Paul’s name from down the hall. I heard running feet.
The door banged open, and in stormed Lee. “You bloody bastard! You killed my brother!” he yelled from the doorway, pointing a crowbar towards Paul’s back.
The tip of Paul’s blade stopped short of my throat. Then his head turned toward Lee. “You’re late to the party. Your name’s not on my list, but hey! There’s room for one more.”
Lee blasted into the room with a knife and crowbar.
Jolted from my terror-haze, I booted Paul’s knee while he wasn’t looking. I grabbed the can of hairspray and squirted it up towards his face.
He shielded his eyes.
“Now!” I screamed. “Get him.”
Lee lurched forward, waving both the crowbar and knife at Paul. “Run, Chelsea.”
The sharp sound of metal bashing metal clattered above me. They kicked each other, ducked down to dodge strikes, and jumped from side to side.
“You murdering son of a bitch,” Lee growled. “I saw you spying on CCTV.”
As thumping and smashing sounds broke out in the room, I did as Lee said. I started crawling. My legs felt heavy, like dragging thick tree trunks strapped to the top of my thighs. A knife flew right in front of my face, then stabbed the back skirting board. I gasped, and froze.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Lee taunted. He sounded breathy. “Come on. I’ve got a score to settle.”
Glass shards stung as they pierced my knees. I couldn’t bear the thought of deserting Lee, but I had to alert the police. I moved again.
“You’re in for it,” Paul snarled.
“Get out of here,” Lee yelled at me. “Move it!”
Clattering and banging thundered through my head. I choked down my fears of what could happen to Lee, dragged myself into the hall and, suddenly, my heart slammed into my ribs. The world stopped.
Laura lay rock-still on the floor. Claire and Jess were unconscious on the stairs. Laura’s face was one of undiluted shock.
I crawled nearer to her and held my hand to her nose and mouth. Nothing. But my hands trembled so violently that I wasn’t sure. What should I do? I pinched her nose, wrapped my quivering lips over hers and blew. A f
ew shaky breaths later, I paused, lowered my ear to her face and prayed to hear the soft sound of breath escaping her body. I heard little more than banging and crashing coming from the kitchen.
Ambulance. Get to a phone.
I pushed myself up, and staggered on weak legs out the front door. My feet touched hard ground. I barely paused to inhale huge gulps of the sweet air of freedom. I broke into a sprint, heading for the house across the street that had a light on. Halfway down the drive I glanced over my shoulder for a split second, to check Paul wasn’t chasing me. He wasn’t. I turned and slammed head first into someone who’d appeared from nowhere.
“Whoa!” a deep male voice said. A pair of strong arms kept me upright.
‘Call the cops!’ I wanted to yell, but terror blocked my voice. I looked up, almost slipped through his arms.
A cherry-faced Mark stared down at me. He dipped his head to my level and his breath tickled my face. “Holy crap!” Mark jerked away and dropped a bunch of roses to the ground. “What the hell happened to you?”
I bear-hugged his solid body. I’d never been so glad to be in the arms of an ex-boyfriend with a grudge in all my life. I sidestepped him, and pointed to the house across the street - my mind still focused on going there for help.
He inhaled sharply and gripped my upper arm. “Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not running anywhere. I’ve got two things to sort out. Right here, right now. Starting with you telling me where else you’ve stored those malicious photos. And then I’m gonna tell Laura how I really feel, if it’s not too late.”
‘No. Can’t. Back. Not in.’ My words crashed.
He dragged me towards the front door. “What happened to you, Chelsea? I never thought you’d be capable of something like this.” His grip slipped down to my wrist while I fought to free myself from his huge wraparound fingers.
Our gazes met and locked. I stared desperately at Mark’s livid, twitchy face and finally yelled out. “There’s a killer inside!”
Mark stopped pulling on my wrist and paused to glare at me. “Nice try. Come on. We need to sort this out. I want those photos.” His eyes, mean and narrow, all but smoked with rage. He must have been too angry to wonder where the blood on my body came from. In a croaky, almost apologetic kind of tone he said, “All right. You give me no choice.” He grabbed me around the ribs, hoisted me over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and then stomped toward the front door.
“Stop.” I screamed. “He’s... help... don’t.” I sobbed, struggling for enough breath to say words to make him stop.
Mark gasped and slowed when we approached Laura’s body. “What the freakin’?”
“Please,” I begged. “I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Mark started to bend down over her. “Laura? Laura? Oh, Jesus!” I could tell he wanted to touch her. “Chelsea, did you do—“ He stopped when a series of bangs, and the clinking sound of metal striking metal, came from the kitchen.
He marched forward and booted the door open and slammed me onto my feet in the kitchen. “Bloody hell!” he yelled.
For a moment my will wavered, the image of Laura was stuck in my mind. But hearing Lee cry out in pain brought me to myself. I had no need to wonder what had happened in my absence, I was now facing it.
“Will someone tell me what the hell’s going—” Mark didn’t finish.
Livid, I threw a punch up at his face.
He seized my fist then pushed my hand down.
Lee and Paul were still fighting at full speed, biceps pumping, tearing up what remained of the kitchen.
Paul’s shirt was in Lee’s hands, twisted into a length of rope and hooked around Paul’s throat, drawing him backwards. Paul elbowed Lee in the ribs, then wormed free of the shirt. He swivelled and dived onto Lee, sending both of them flying across the kitchen and into the back wall, right in front of us.
The crowbar came sliding in a spin towards my feet.
Both men were now on their bottoms with torn clothes and swollen boxer faces.
My friends were injured or worse, dead. I’d lost Laura. I couldn’t lose Lee. “Mark,” I choked out, tugging his sleeve. “Do something!”
“Help me, Mark,” Paul said in a pathetic voice. “They’ve screwed me over. They’re trying to kill me.” Paul grunted at Lee, face glowing red, baring teeth. Then he turned his head into shadow to the left. He saw something… the knife in the skirting board?
Oh, hell!
If I didn’t do something, Lee, my Lee, would be dead flesh.
“Get up, Lee,” I squalled.
Lee swiped his hand across his forehead, smearing blood across his skin. He grimaced then struggled to push himself up.
Shaking myself back to usefulness, I gave Mark a disappointed snarl, forced my timber-rigid legs to bend and grasped the end of the crowbar.
“Catch!” I yelled to Lee.
The bar stopped as I was about to throw.
Mark yanked it out of my grip.
“Hey!” My empty hand still in the air, I tried to engage Mark’s big brown eyes and hoped he could see the truth within mine. “It’s Paul,” I said, having recovered my voice. “He attacked us. He tricked us into thinking it was you. I’m so sorry.”
“Who hurt Laura? Who else have you—” Mark stopped shouting when Paul tried to rise to his feet. Mark shifted his gaze between Paul and Lee, then it boomeranged back to me.
“Paul planted evidence to frame you,” I said.
“Mark, my mate.” Paul’s voice had a sickly-sweet quality while stretching an arm out, feeling for the knife. “She’s off her head. They’ve both gone nuts. They’ve got photos on me, just like they have with you. Have you seen what they did to Laura?”
Mark’s face turned so red I expected it to explode.
“He’s lying,” I screamed at Mark. “I texted your blackmail photos to two mobiles. One phone is yours, the unknown number belongs to Paul. That’s how he knows I tried to blackmail you.”
Paul pointed to the cash spilling out from Laura’s white handbag and spoke in a convincing tone. “Look, there’s the money I paid her.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Lee said, struggling for breath. “He murdered my brother.”
“It’s true,” I said. “Laura was sleeping with Daryl. Paul blackmailed him, and killed him.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Mark, Paul’s setting you up. He knows how you feel about Laura. That’s Laura’s cash, not his. He blackmailed Laura with photos. That’s how we got the idea for blackmailing you.”
“Hit the stinking bitch, Mark.” Paul spat his words out. “Before she turns on you. They’re just after money and don’t care how they get it.”
A blast of frustration slammed me right in the guts. “Ugh! Can’t you see what’s going on here, Mark?”
Silence.
The tension was thick enough to choke me.
After what I’d done to Mark earlier, the odds were that he would indeed want to hit me, and then Lee. I had to stop Mark, get the bar off him.
Crowbar bouncing in his right hand, Mark seemed to be trying to get his head around the shocking scene. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his Blackberry. “The police can sort this mess out. No one move an inch.”
Paul shuffled nearer to the knife that was sticking out of the skirting board.
“Damn you.” I reached up to snatch the crowbar from Mark.
The mobile fell out of his hand, hit the tiled floor behind us, broke apart and bounced away. “Jesus, Chelsea.” He took a painful hold of my upper arm.
I couldn’t run away nor grab for the crowbar.
“I... I can prove it’s Paul,” I blurted out, suddenly remembering.
Mark narrowed his eyes at me.
“I recorded it.” I pointed at Emma’s bag that had been kicked away from the wall, praying the dictaphone worked.
“No!” Paul yelled. “She’ll have a knife in there. Don’t trust her.”
“Please, Mark. Let me get it. If you could just hear...” With M
ark still holding my arm, I stretched and hooked the bag strap, stuck my hand in and fished around. “Got it.” Slowly, I pulled out the Dictaphone. “See? No weapons.” I pressed the stop button then began rewinding. Impatient to convince him, I pressed play and listened: bashing sounds, thumps and clanging. The sounds were crackled and came in bursts, like the Dictaphone was struggling. It was just fighting sounds. I guessed Paul was too busy trying to kill Lee to confess. I glared down at him.
Paul shot me a crazed pit bull glance, then his voice came broken, barely legible from the Dictaphone. “They got what... deserved. Daryl, Laura, Mark—”
Mark released my arm. Had he heard Paul say his name in the recording? “There! Did you hear that?” I fell to my knees, lifted my head and stared.
Paul, a few feet in front of me, was an inch short of grabbing the knife. His arm stretched to the limit, gloved fingers walking over the tiles toward it.
“Stop him!” I couldn’t reach to kick it away. One fast swipe and he’d stab Lee.
Then, abruptly, Lee’s angry voice came through the Dictaphone. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all week. Had it all planned out... what I’d do to you, what I’d do to...”
“Rewind it,” I screamed, raising my voice over the recording. What Lee had said probably convinced Mark that he was to blame. “Mark, please listen. Listen to what Paul said a minute ago. He said your name! Why would he do that if he wasn’t guilty? He’s framing you.”
Lee groaned in pain. “Open your eyes, Mark.”
“Mark,” I said. “Paul’s punishing you because you love Laura.”
Mark didn’t respond.
“Listen to what she’s saying,” Lee croaked.
I turned swiftly onto my butt and looked up at him, trying to plead with my eyes. Tears ran down my face and into my ears. “Mark, please. Don’t let Paul get that knife.” Jesus! What will it take to convince him? “Remember what I told you yesterday? About trying to get proof to help Laura? About being onto you? Think about it. Paul has set you up, and it worked. We thought it was you. I blackmailed you, thinking it would help Laura.”
“It’s nonsense,” Paul said.