Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  The kettle must have been boiled recently. Jackson hooked it off the table and it bounced off Tony’s back.

  ‘Shit!’ he called out, leaping off the floor and releasing Jackson from his grip. Jackson sat up fast, grabbed the kettle by its handle and smashed it onto Tony’s head. It was only small and made of plastic, but it was a second, unexpected blow to Tony who was still recovering from the shock of the hot water.

  ‘Are you okay? Come with me ...’ Jackson said, looking in the direction of the camera. ‘We’ve got to run, come on!’

  Tony had recovered himself and, now standing, had picked up a cup. Using it as a knuckle-duster, he pounded it into Jackson’s face, quietening him instantly. The cup smashed. Jackson reeled.

  The camera moved slightly, away from the main action.

  ‘And you keep quiet, you bitch!’ Tony said, heading for the camera. Another fist. The camera dropped to the floor. Everything was black. All I could hear was a struggle between the two men. The camera was picked up again, it was pointed towards the fight. The hand holding the phone was shaking even worse this time, Tony’s blow must have cowed the person doing the filming. I knew even then who it was.

  As the camera settled, I could see Jackson on Tony’s back, one arm around his neck, the other pounding his side. Tony was trying to shake him off, like a fly that he was unable to swat. Realising he was making no headway, Tony turned round and fell backwards onto the bed on top of Jackson. Jackson struggled to gain the upper hand again, but Tony rolled over, stood up and grabbed Jackson’s head. He pulled it violently and threw Jackson onto the floor. I heard Jackson’s head hit the ground. It had stunned him. His head was lying by the leg of the bed, it was too dark to see if he was bleeding, but it looked as if he was, his hair looked wet.

  ‘Stay down, you bugger!’ Tony snarled.

  Jackson struggled to recover, he raised his head, but Tony booted it down with his foot. Jackson tried to move, he must have known that it was nearly over. He started to call out, Tony gave him a sharp dig with his boot, right in his teeth.

  Jackson was half-sobbing, half-cursing as Tony knelt down once again and moved his face right up close.

  ‘Moira isn’t going to be interested in you now with a face like that. She’s gonna want to have a piece of Tony. She’ll be here soon, I can’t wait to show her what it’s like to have a real man. Hey, you can watch us if you like. You might learn a few lessons ...’

  Jackson made a last struggle, pushing his free hand towards Tony’s eyes, trying to scratch, claw – whatever would give him an advantage.

  ‘You bastard!’ Tony squealed, moving a hand up to his eye. Jackson must have torn his eyelid – whatever it was, it had hurt him badly.

  Tony placed his hand over his eye and moved his right hand out to punch Jackson once again. He punched a first time – hard and angry – then began to deliver the second blow. He stopped and looked towards the person filming.

  ‘Is that on, you bitch? Are you filming this?’

  He stood up, hostile, furious, and began to move towards the camera. Jackson grabbed his leg and bit into it. Tony cried out in pain, then turned to deal with him one final time.

  ‘Will you stay down!’ He punched him once again. Then I saw something that I could never ever have imagined.

  Tony lifted the end of the bed up with his right hand and pushed Jackson’s head with his left hand, his legs straddled over him as he lay on the floor. Jackson could see what was happening. The video was too dark to see his eyes, but he must have been absolutely terrified as he realised what Tony was doing.

  Tony sank to his knees and lifted up the side of the bed with his right hand, putting his left hand around Jackson’s throat. He fought as hard as he could, but Tony edged his head directly under the leg of the bed. Jackson made one last struggle as Tony pushed his head the final few inches, he was trying anything now, attempting to move his head to the side to avoid what was coming. Tony’s grip was too fierce. He dropped the side of the bed, the wooden leg falling heavily into Jackson’s mouth. He gave a short, sharp yelp as his head was pinned to the floor. Tony sat on the edge of the bed and forced the leg deeper down into his throat. Jackson’s feet twitched, then there was silence.

  Tony turned towards the camera. With Jackson now silenced, he was returning to whoever it was filming the events in the room. He must have thought that they were unconscious or restrained, he hadn’t been concerned about them until he’d spotted the phone recording everything that was going on.

  ‘And now it’s your turn, you bitch!’

  He stood up deliberately.

  ‘Maybe you and Moira can share a bit of Tony’s love later on. Let’s not call her Moira. I prefer the name Ellie. Let’s call her Ellie. You and Ellie get to sleep with Tony together. And what’s your name, bitch? Better not be something ugly like Moira. Give me that bloody thing!’

  The picture went blurred, then dark, as he grabbed the phone and threw it on the ground. I heard him stamp on it, but it was still recording audio.

  ‘What’s your name, bitch? You certainly look good enough to eat. What’s your name?’

  All I could hear was sobbing. A female voice. Petrified. Not knowing what was going to happen next, at the hands of a violent madman who’d just killed Jackson inches away from her.

  ‘It’s Meg. My name’s Meg ...’

  ‘Pretty name Meg. Meg and Ellie. Very tasty. Now shut your mouth, Meg, until Ellie gets here.’

  There was a thud. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. Then just the sound of Tony breathing.

  After that a voice, some distance away, probably from the next room. Muffled, but audible.

  ‘Fuck me, Pete, harder ... oh God, that’s good, do it again ...’

  Then silence as the audio ended and Tony finished destroying the phone.

  Chapter Eleven

  I thought I was going to be sick. Then and there in reception. What a welcome that would have been for the family that had just walked through the entrance.

  Oh God, what was I going to do? Ellie had been right about her stalker. And somehow he’d run into Meg. He’d got Meg in there with him when he’d killed Jackson. The police must have found Jackson. Were there two bodies? Had the bastard killed Meg too? I was frantic, I had to know if she was still alive. I’d have to talk to the police now, tell them everything.

  I must have looked a state. Jenny was looking at me, concerned. Ignoring the family who were waiting to be checked in, she got up from her workstation, came through the door at the side and rushed over to me.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded. ‘You know something, don’t you?’

  As a member of the senior management team at the radio station, I’ve developed something of a poker face. It’s a non-committal expression which I use when I’m thinking furiously about how to deal with some piece of crappy news that a member of staff has just delivered to me. I deployed the technique with Jenny.

  I needed thinking time. Ellie and I were on that video, as clear as anything. She even used my name. We weren’t guilty of anything – not anything that the police would be interested in as part of their crime investigation – but all this had to come out.

  Meg must have heard what was going on in the room next to her. I couldn’t think of any way that the situation could be rescued. I’d have to tell the police about Meg, I had to know if she was okay.

  I decided to lie to Jenny. There was so much deception involved already at that stage, what was another white lie? I couldn’t face being the one to tell her about Jackson. The police would need to do that.

  ‘It’s nothing, Jenny. I’ve just received some bad news about my mum. Have the police interviewed you yet?’

  ‘Oh ...’ She was disappointed. Poor girl must have been on tenterhooks all day wondering where Jackson had got to. I’d leave it to the police – or Bob – to break the news to her.

  ‘Yes,’ she continued. ‘There’s a couple of guys set up some interview rooms in the conference ar
ea through the bar. I’ll need to go to the station at some point, but they got a statement from me earlier.’

  ‘What did you tell them in the end?’

  ‘I kept quiet about Jackson. For now. I told them everything I know, minus the bit about meeting up.’

  Jenny’s own secret had to come out now. She’d have to tell the police what they’d been planning. Now that Jackson was dead, it could hinder the investigation if she didn’t. At least there was no doubt about who the killer was: Ellie’s crazy stalker, Tony Miller.

  ‘Jenny, you may need to tell the police about you and Jackson. If it comes to that, you’ll know when you have to admit it. I know it’s hard, but don’t lie about it. It’s important.’

  She looked at me, studying my face. She knew I was holding something back, but didn’t know what.

  ‘Any sign of your wife?’ she asked.

  She couldn’t have asked a more pertinent question if she’d tried. I shrugged it off.

  ‘Nothing yet, I think she must have gone straight home.’

  My voice faltered.

  ‘I’m sorry, I think I need a drink of water.’

  ‘Excuse me, can we get checked in please?’

  The dad from the family party was getting agitated. Get as stroppy as you want, mate, Jenny’s about to tell you to sling your hook. Good luck spending the night searching for a new hotel with your fractious toddlers in tow.

  ‘No, you can just piss off!’

  Jenny turned on him suddenly, as if she’d stored up every snug-at-night guarantee that she’d ever had to offer, rolled it into a ball and shoved it down his throat. She stormed out through the door and into the night. I wasn’t sure whether to go after her, but I was interrupted by the door to my side opening. A woman walked out, not uniformed, but very obviously police.

  ‘Mr Bailey?’ she asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘Are you happy to come with me to a temporary interview room so that we can talk in private?’

  I nodded again. She must have wondered what kind of witness statement she was going to get. A series of nods wouldn’t get the investigation very far.

  ‘May I nip into the gents and get a drink of water before we talk? I’m a bit hoarse.’

  It was her turn to nod. Bob Hays walked through from the bar, seeing a growing crowd of customers gathering at the reception desk.

  ‘Where on earth is Jenny?’ he muttered to himself, heading through into the reception desk area.

  ‘The young woman just rushed out in tears,’ said the dad. ‘Told me to piss off!’

  Bob began the unenviable task of placating the public, and I made my way to the main toilets which were just through from the bar area. I took a deep breath as soon as I was on my own again. I had to think through my story. Quickly.

  I looked at my phone screen. Facebook was still open at the video, which had returned to the original thumbnail preview. I looked at the audience. Good old Meg. She hadn’t shared the video publicly, it was a limited audience, probably just her friends. I looked at the comments. I knew most of the people who’d expressed concern about the video, it appeared to be friends, family and work colleagues only. Thank God it wasn’t public, it would have been all over the internet.

  I sent Alex a quick note via Messenger, that’s how we usually spoke: Going to call you soon. Your mobile number still the same? Got a problem here. Will need your help.

  I’d like to have spoken to Ellie about Tony Miller, but I didn’t have time. Neither did I have any way to message her. It would have to wait. I’d speak to Alex as soon as possible, then catch up with Ellie. And I had to find out about Meg. I took a drink of water from the tap and headed back to reception.

  The police had set up a makeshift interview area in the hotel. They’d have a lot of transient people to catch. I was semi-aware of the procedures involved, I’d reported on the process many times in my radio work, but had never experienced them first-hand.

  There seemed to be a lot of fuss before we got started – procedure and arse-covering I guessed – but eventually we got to it. There were two people interviewing me, probably because I was slightly more important than other hotel guests as I’d been in the room next door.

  Try as I might, they would not give me any details about the body – or bodies – that had been found. I knew enough about the process to understand that they’d need a clean run at my story, they wouldn’t want it contaminated by any additional knowledge about what had happened. Tell the truth, Pete. Show them the video. Think only of Meg. Figure out the shitty bits later. Work through the process, you know how it goes.

  The more senior cop excused himself for a moment as we were getting started: home address, contact numbers, workplace, availability, and so on. All the time, I was desperate to get more information about Meg.

  ‘Alright if I check my phone?’ I asked as he was leaving the room.

  ‘Yeah, no problem, I’ll be back in a moment.’

  I keyed my password into my smartphone. The battery was about to die once again, the small charge in Ellie’s room had only given me a temporary reprieve.

  There were a couple of new messages, both Facebook. Alex, urging me to update her asap. And one from Meg. A Facebook message from Meg. She was safe!

  The message had just been sent. I felt myself relaxing, I hadn’t realised how wound up I was. I opened up Messenger on my phone: Come home. Say nothing to police. Bring Ellie, cheating bastard. Talk to police and its over.

  The video was gone. It had been deleted from Meg’s timeline. All the comments were gone. It was as if it had never existed.

  Meg hadn’t written that message. It’s a stupid thing, but it wasn’t her language. She didn’t speak like that. Even if she was pissed, she didn’t speak like that. And she’d missed an apostrophe. She might have been crap at texting, but on Messenger, on a proper keyboard, she got things right.

  Tony Miller must have taken her. Could he have got into her Facebook account on his own? There’s no way, he’d have to be with her to get into her account. That meant Meg was alive.

  He wanted both me and Ellie. He had Meg. The violent little bastard had killed Jackson, now he’d taken Meg. He wanted Ellie and me together. Was he lining us up for some kind of punishment?

  I needed to go for a shit. They don’t ever tell you that bit in films. I was so nervous and on edge, I had to get to the toilet. Soon.

  ‘Mind if I go to the toilet?’ I asked the young copper who was sitting in the room with me. ‘It’s an emergency. I wouldn’t ask otherwise. Sorry.’

  The young guy smiled at me.

  ‘Sure,’ he answered, ‘I’ll tell the DCI that you’ll be back soon.’

  How embarrassing. It was like sneaking off for a dump at school. Everybody knew where you’d gone. But I had to get away for a few minutes before I spoke to the police. I had to find out what was happening to Meg.

  I made myself comfortable in one of the cubicles and got out my phone again. I read the message, looking for clues. I decided to take a chance and message back: Tell me Meg is safe. I know who you are. Tony Miller. Leave Meg alone.

  Straight away I saw that the message had been read. I could see that a reply was being written: The bitch is fine. Very sexy too. Come home or she gets it. After I’ve fucked her. We’ve had a nice day together, getting to know each other. I think she likes me.

  Anger surged through me, I wanted to shout, punch the sides of the cubicle, hit something hard. I wanted to smash Tony’s face in. I had to think of Meg.

  Leave her alone. We’ll come. Both of us. No police. Do not hurt Meg. You hurt Meg I’ll kill you you shit.

  Possibly not the best words with which to talk a mad man down from a ledge, but I felt as if I had to make some kind of threat to him.

  Whatever tough guy. She’s wearing nice panties. Very sexy. Come fast. Before I do.

  I wanted to scream. Dare I tell the cops? What would happen if I went back to the house? I didn’t know what to do. I had to
speak to Alex. I finished off in the cubicle, washed my hands, made the call. Her mobile number was the same. Good job. She picked up straight away.

  ‘Pete?’

  ‘Hi, yes, it’s me.’

  ‘What is going on with Meg? Have you seen the video?’

  ‘Yes. Look, my phone is going to die, we’ll have to speak quickly. I need you to keep a secret, Alex. And I might need your contacts. Can you help?’

  ‘Of course I can, Pete. Just tell me what’s going on. Is Meg okay?’

  ‘I’ve landed myself in the shit. I’m at a works training event and I slept with somebody I met here ...’

  I heard the breath. It was quiet, but there was a reaction. Alex didn’t say anything.

  ‘She’s called Ellie and she has a stalker, Alex. She has a bloody stalker. Meg came down to see me. She got caught up with him in some way. He must have known about me and Ellie.’

  ‘Okay. That’s not Ellie Turner is it? I’ve seen her on the regional TV show reels.’

  ‘Yes, she’s on TV. You may have seen her. This stalker has taken Meg. He wants me and Ellie to come to him or he’ll hurt Meg.’

  ‘Jesus Pete! Do the police know?’

  ‘He told me not to tell them. I’m in the middle of an interview with them now. What do I say?’

  ‘Why are the police speaking to you?’

  ‘This stalker guy – Tony Miller – he’s killed somebody in the hotel. A young lad, one of the staff. It happened in the room next to mine. You saw it, that’s what the video was showing.’

  ‘Was that Meg’s voice at the end? Was she filming it? Hell Pete, what’s going on there?’

  ‘It’s a mess, Alex. Look, my phone can’t hang on much longer, can you help?’

  ‘Of course I can, what do you need?’

  ‘Should I tell the police about Tony Miller? I don’t know if we should go there alone. He’s a nutter, you saw what he did to that kid. I don’t want to put Meg at risk.’

  ‘How far away from home are you, Pete? How long will it take you to get back?’

  ‘Two hours, maybe more in the dark.’