Lizzy seemed exasperated. ‘Just answer me, Will. Did you see his face?’
‘No. Not properly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Stuart dealt with it mostly, and I helped to carry him once he was wrapped up in the bed sheets. By then he was covered.’
This didn’t seem to be the answer Lizzy wanted to hear. ‘But what about when you got to the canal. You removed him from the sheets then, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but again, I didn’t look directly at him. I saw his body, yes, but not his face. It was him, though. It was Stephen Myers.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because the police would have checked that, wouldn’t they? And his family, he would have been identified by them. Why would you think it might not have been him?’
Lizzy swallowed and looked Will straight in the eyes. Again there was that haunted look. ‘Because Peter Myers told me that Stephen Myers is still alive.’
5
Dan and Emma spent a good hour walking barefoot by the sea, carrying their shoes, letting the warm waves lap over their feet. It was so relaxing and it felt a world away from the hustle and bustle of London.
‘I am sorry,’ Dan said, turning to face Emma and taking both her hands in his. ‘I feel terrible for questioning you about Stuart. I do trust you. But I’ve been feeling so afraid that you might have changed how you feel about me. I guess this whole experience has shaken me up more than I thought, and it’s made me question things that I’ve always taken for granted. It feels like the ground has shifted, like an earthquake, and it still hasn’t quite settled. Do you understand?’
Emma nodded. She knew exactly what he meant, and in fact it was a huge relief to find out that she wasn’t the only one who felt as if the world had been de-stabilised. ‘Like aftershocks.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s it, exactly – aftershocks. Just when I think I’m okay, another one comes along, and knocks me sideways. I realise then that everything isn’t quite back to normal.’
‘I know what you mean.’ She summoned the courage to ask the question she’d been desperate to ask for the past hour. ‘The reason you didn’t want to go ahead and re-arrange the wedding too soon – was it really because you felt unsure about how I felt about Stuart?’
Dan pressed his toes into the wet sand. ‘Partly – I’m sorry, Em.’
‘It’s okay, I understand. I appreciate your honesty.’
‘I should have spoken to you about it sooner. But it never really felt like the right time. And I didn’t intend to tell you here, on holiday, but it just came out.’
‘Well, I’m glad that it did. Because now we’ve been able to deal with it.’
Dan nodded. They looked at each other for a few moments, and then touched lips, holding the kiss as three children splashed past them, shouting with delight. ‘I do love you, Emma Holden.’
Emma looked into his eyes. ‘I love you too.’
They kissed again, and held each other close. Emma could feel the comforting sound of Dan’s heart beating.
‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ Dan said. ‘You remember you mentioned the open-air theatre, carved into the cliff-side?’
‘The Minack Theatre, yes.’
‘That’s it. Well, they’re currently running a production of Romeo and Juliet, and I’ve got us tickets for this evening.’
‘Cool, that’s great, my favourite play!’
‘I know,’ Dan smiled. ‘I do listen to what you say, you know. Well, most of the time, anyway.’
‘Thanks, it’s going to be great.’ Emma had played Juliet in her school play, many years ago. The fact that it was such an enjoyable experience was one of the reasons she had decided to go into acting, so the play held a special place in her heart.
***
The Minack Theatre was, according to the Sat Nav, about half an hour’s drive around the coast from their apartment. But, underestimating the time it would take to negotiate the unfamiliar, twisting Cornish roads, and the steep narrow lanes, they arrived later than planned, just ten minutes before the performance was due to begin. The cliff-top car park was already virtually full, and they were lucky to squeeze into a small space between two poorly parked cars. They’d already eaten at a wonderful, highly recommended burger restaurant in St. Ives, so at least they didn’t have to worry about food.
‘Amazing view,’ Emma said, as they queued to enter the theatre. Off towards the left were magnificent sheer-face cliffs that dropped down towards a long, sandy beach. The light was fading, casting shadows across the cliff-face, which made the sight even more spectacular.
Dan looked across towards the cliffs. ‘From what I’ve read, I think it’s even better from inside the theatre itself.’
He was right. The theatre, and the view it afforded, was amazing. Nestling into the partly excavated cliff, the theatre made the most of what nature offered. There were no chairs; instead the audience perched on stone terracing in an amphitheatre design, interspersed with beautiful floral displays. In front of them the sea spread out like a huge canvas, framing the small stage at the edge of the cliff-side in darkening blue.
Most of the audience had already taken their seats, and there weren’t any spaces below halfway to the front. Emma took her seat alongside Dan towards the back of the amphitheatre, on the left-hand side, squeezing in between two other couples. She looked across at the view. ‘Wow. It would be so amazing to perform here. And it would make a fantastic wedding venue too.’
‘Seriously, you’d like to get married here?’
‘Yeah, why not – can you imagine how spectacular the wedding photos would be, with that backdrop?’
A few minutes later the final call went out, and the play began. As night descended, the atmosphere grew to even greater levels. It was certainly the most stunning arena Emma had ever seen. She thought again about the idea of moving down to Cornwall. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy notion after all – the way she felt at that moment, she could happily work on this stage for the rest of her days. Who needed the West End when you could perform in such an amazing natural setting?
It was just after the interval that Emma noticed the man looking back up towards where they were sitting. It was impossible to see his face properly, because he was some way down the terracing, and it was just too dark. But without doubt, every so often, he would turn around and look towards where Emma and Dan were. The first few times she had noticed him, he seemed to be scanning the audience. But later, he appeared to have found what he was searching for, for his eyes stayed fixed in their direction. Of course he wasn’t looking at her, she knew that really, but it certainly seemed like it. She found her attention drifting away from the play as she began to check periodically to see what the man was doing. Mostly he was facing forward, towards the stage, but sometimes he was looking back. It was beginning to freak her out. She didn’t want to speak during the performance – it was a pet hate of all actors – so she resisted saying anything to Dan, who seemed engrossed in the play. Instead she pulled her jacket tightly around her, as the temperature continued to drop and an increasingly chilly sea wind whirled around them. Dan did notice that movement, and responded by wrapping an arm around her.
Soon Emma forgot about the man and began to lose herself once more in the action onstage. By the time the play finished, she had forgotten all about him. The audience stood as one to applaud the cast; it had been an impressive staging of the play, and the standing ovation was well deserved. The lights came on and everyone began their slow progress towards the exit at the top of the amphitheatre.
‘I’m just nipping to the toilet,’ Emma said, as they neared the exits.
‘Me too,’ Dan replied. ‘See you over there.’ He gestured towards the small shop, off to their right.
Emma nodded, and headed towards the nearby toilets. There was a significant queue. At first she decided to stay and join the dozens of people standing outside the door. But after a few minutes without movement, she began to get impatient and wond
ered whether there were any other facilities. She found an usher, a late middle-aged woman, who was standing guard by one of the railings.
‘Excuse me, are there any other toilet facilities apart from the ones over there? The queue’s really long.’
‘There aren’t any more public toilets,’ said the woman slightly hesitantly, ‘but sometimes we let people use the staff facilities. It should be okay. They’re just over there.’ She pointed to the far right side of the arena. ‘They’re not signed as toilets. There are only two cubicles, but it should be quieter. Just go through the blue door.’
‘Thanks.’
The staff toilets were down in a quiet corner of the theatre, already emptied of people, many of whom had already made their way back to their cars. Emma felt slightly guilty when she saw there was no queue, and she could just walk straight in – the people she had left by the public convenience would surely still be waiting. But maybe others had asked too, as whilst she was in the cubicle, she heard the outer door open and close. Now someone else was present she felt slightly unnerved, and wanted to return to the crowds, where Dan would probably already be waiting.
She was just about to flush the chain when the shoes appeared underneath the cubicle door. She caught her breath. They were men’s shoes, she was sure of it.
What on earth?
She froze, afraid to move or even breathe. There was a man standing right outside the cubicle, so close to the door that his shoes were peaking underneath.
Then she thought – the staff toilets were probably unisex. As the woman had said, there was no sign on the door, nothing to indicate men or women, so that was probably the case.
But still, why was the person standing right outside? The cubicle next door was free. And anyway, if you were waiting, who would stand so close? It certainly wasn’t socially acceptable behaviour.
She stared at the shoes, willing the person to leave, wondering whether she should say something.
The person stayed rooted to the spot and Emma’s heart-rate quickened.
Maybe one of the workers had seen her enter the toilets, and was waiting to tell her off for using staff facilities.
‘She said it was okay for me to come in here,’ Emma said, her voice full of nerves. ‘The other toilets were busy, so she said it was okay to use these.’
No response came. The shoes didn’t even move a millimetre. Emma regretted opening her mouth. What if it wasn’t a member of staff? She had just given away the fact that she was a woman.
Then she remembered about the man in the audience.
‘Please, go,’ she mouthed, ‘please.’
What if he had been watching her? What if he’d followed her out towards the top of the theatre, then to the public toilets, and now to the staff facilities?
The thought seemed ludicrous – there was no reason to believe he had even been looking at her. But here she was, trapped in this cubicle, with an unidentified man just inches away.
She pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, and then summoned up the courage to speak again. This time she suppressed the nerves, holding her voice steady. ‘If you don’t leave, right now, I’m going to call my boyfriend. He’ll be down here in seconds.’
Still no movement.
‘I’m dialling then,’ she said.
Dan picked up on the third ring. ‘Hi, Em.’
‘Dan, I’m in the staff toilets, on the right hand side of the theatre, can you get here, right now? It’s the unmarked blue door.’
‘Are you okay? You sound…’
‘Some guy is standing right outside my cubicle.’
A split second hesitation: then, ‘I’ll be there right away.’
The shoes disappeared and Emma heard the outer door open and close.
‘Thank God.’
Dan arrived just twenty or so seconds later. ‘Em, are you in there? It’s okay, it’s me.’
She opened the door and they hugged. She could feel her heart beating hard against Dan’s chest. ‘Did you see the person coming out of the toilets?’
‘No. I didn’t see anyone.’
***
They reported the incident at the office. The staff took it extremely seriously and even offered to call the police, but there seemed little point in getting them involved. What could they do? There was some CCTV on site, but none covering that area, so it would have been impossible to identify the person. And although it had been a scary, intimidating experience, no crime had been committed. The toilets had indeed been unisex, so the man, whoever he was, had every right to be there.
‘Are you okay?’ Dan said, as they fastened their seat belts and prepared to leave.
‘I’m fine.’
He looked across at her. ‘You still look shaken.’
‘It’s okay; it just really reminded me of all those bad things from the past – Stephen Myers, Peter Myers, you know, being stalked. I never want to go back to that – never.’
Dan nodded. ‘You won’t have to go back. I won’t let it happen.’
Emma reached for his hand. ‘I know you won’t. I just, well, I just don’t understand what happened there.’
Dan shrugged. ‘Just someone playing a sick joke maybe. Getting a kick out of scaring strangers.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You think something different?’
Now it was Emma’s turn to shrug. She thought back to the man in the audience. ‘You’re probably right. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘C’mon,’ said Dan, still looking at her. ‘Let’s go. Get back to the apartment, chill out for a while, and put this behind us. I’m really sorry this happened, Em, it was supposed to be such a good night.’
They reached the apartment block just before ten o’clock. Emma was still shaken, but on the journey back the memory had already begun to fade a little. She’d convinced herself that there couldn’t have been a connection between the man in the audience and the person in the toilets. She had been a random, rather than targeted, victim. It was the only explanation that seemed plausible.
They passed through the main entrance, climbed the stairs and turned left towards their apartment door. Outside on the mat was a large bouquet of assorted flowers – reds, blues, purples, yellows.
Emma smiled and turned to Dan.
But he didn’t smile back. ‘They’re not from me, sorry.’
Emma frowned and picked up the bouquet. Something was wrong with this. She found the note at the back of the flowers – a single, terrifying sentence.
I’m still your number one fan.
PART TWO
6
‘Morning,’ Dan said, as Emma entered the living area. He was sitting in front of the laptop they had brought with them, knowing that the apartment had free Wi-Fi. ‘I found out where the flower shop is.’
Emma joined him on the sofa. She still felt incredibly shaken after last night’s incidents, and hadn’t slept well, waking virtually every hour, thinking that she could hear something, or someone, outside. Sure, the door was locked, but the thought that someone knew where they were staying, and had arranged for those flowers to be delivered, with that message. It was just scary. And after what had happened at the theatre…
Dan pointed at the onscreen map. ‘It’s only just down the road. We could be there in a few minutes.’
Emma nodded. The shop was on the main road that snaked around the coast towards St. Ives, just before the big supermarket where they had stocked up with essential supplies on their arrival. It had been her idea to trace the shop’s location. The card had contained a company name on the back – Bella’s Bouquets – and as they hadn’t recognised the name, they’d assumed it was a local shop.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘It probably won’t be open for another hour, with it being Sunday.’
‘I thought so too,’ Dan replied, ‘but they’re open already. It says on their website.’
‘Okay, we’d better get ready then.’
‘Are you sure
about this?’
‘Definitely – if there’s a chance of finding out who sent those flowers, I want to know. I’m tired of running away from these kind of people.’
***
‘Can I help you?’
The lady behind the counter laid down a bunch of flowers that she was preparing, and took off her glasses.
Emma prayed that she’d be receptive to their request. ‘I received a bouquet of flowers last night, from your shop, and I wondered if you could tell me who sent them.’
The woman blinked at them for a second or two. ‘We don’t usually give out names. If the sender doesn’t request it to be on a card, then we assume they may want to remain anonymous.’
This hadn’t started well. Emma tried a different tactic. ‘The message on the card, it was threatening.’
The woman looked confused. ‘Threatening? We wouldn’t allow something threatening to be sent…’
‘It might not have seemed threatening to you. But it has a specific meaning for me.’
‘R-i-g-h-t,’ she said. She opened the large book on the counter and began to leaf through. ‘May I ask your name, please?’
‘Emma. Emma Holden.’
The woman popped her glasses back on and traced down the page with her finger. ‘Emma Holden. You’re staying at the Sunset View apartments. “I’m still your number one fan”?’
‘I was stalked once by someone who used to say he was my number one fan,’ Emma explained.
The lady looked troubled. ‘I see. And you think this is from him?’
‘No. He’s dead.’
‘Oh, right, well, how…’
‘It’s someone who knows about what happened, and is doing this to try and frighten me. I think they followed us last night, when we went to the Minack Theatre, and they had arranged for the flowers to be delivered for when we got back. That’s why we need to know who it is.’
Emma Holden Mystery 03-The One You Fear Page 4