TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Suspense) (39 page)

“You wouldn’t dare!”

I perched a hand on my hip.  “Try me.  I love you, Laura, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.  But I can’t let you hand over any more of your parent’s inheritance.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and she trembled. 

I put steel in my voice.  “No more money.  Understand?”

“You’d really tell Paul?”

Attempting a poker face, I glared at her while nodding. 

Eventually, she copied. 

I hugged her so tightly.  We were now knitted to each other more than ever before.  She pointed to the white cash bag at the far side of her feet.  The handle looped out from under the bed. 

“I’ll hide this.”  I dragged the bag across the cream carpet. “Then you can’t change your mind.” 

Laura stayed upstairs to fix her make-up.

I weaved in and out of several bedrooms, so she wouldn’t know where I’d hidden the cash.  In the end, I dashed down to the kitchen and stuffed it in a cupboard behind Emma’s nest of bags.  I figured it best to keep it close by, and intended to stash the cash under my duvet at bedtime.

Surrounded by my cheerful friends, I sat on a kitchen stool.  I downed a much-needed glass of bubbly.  
Blackmailing a blackmailer?
  Crikey!  Had I done the right thing, or inflamed the situation?

“Top up, Chelsea?” Emma said, bottle in hand.

“Sure, thanks.”  While Emma refilled my glass, I pulled my purse out of my bag and admired the photo of Laura and me taken on her hen night, trying to remind myself why I was doing all this.  There was a scratch on the side of the photo.  Fortunately, it was to the left of Laura’s head, so didn’t spoil the picture.

While sipping Champagne, I scanned the smiling faces of our friends, ignoring my guilt for suspecting them.  There was no room for emotion.  If we were wrong about Mark, then it had to be one of these girls, and time was ticking.

Nearly half an hour went by.  Laura dashed into the kitchen wearing fresher eye make-up.  She looked more composed, at least artificially. 

Laura tapped my thigh discreetly, showed me a text message she’d received on her ‘hot’ phone.  It read: ‘Nice try.  Slut.’

Mark didn’t leave the lounge to confront me, but receiving this text message after threatening him, more than suggested he was indeed the blackmailer. 

I replied:

‘Tick, tock, shithead.  Make your choice.’ 

I passed Laura the mobile.

After finishing her drink, Emma waved an empty bottle in the air.  “We’re out of champagne.  Got any more booze, Laura?  Or does someone need to go to the shop?  Any volunteers?”

“Paul might have some in the garage,” Laura muttered.  “I forgot to stock up.”

“I’ll go.”  I pushed up off the stool.  The wired energy branching in the room had blurred my concentration.  A minute or two of timeout was in order.  “No need to bother Paul.  Keys for the garage by the front door, right?” 

Laura was unresponsive. 

I made my way along the hall and found the key.

Outside, strolling towards the garage with nothing but my own thoughts, I hesitated, just a beat.  It seemed like approaching the summit of breakneck decisions.  I felt torn, in turmoil. 

The deadline was less than a day away.  We didn’t have any solid evidence proving Mark responsible.  I’d crossed the lines of the law by attempting to blackmail him.  Laura was losing her footing. 

Knowing things were way out of control, twisted my gut.  However, worse than this, was the fear of something terrible happening to Laura.  The prospect intensified the more I thought. 
What if Lee has been right all along about Daryl being murdered, and he wasn’t just a grieving brother desperate to assign blame like Laura believed?
  Out of the three of us, Lee appeared to be the most sane. 
What if Lee was right again, and that car really had intended to run me down?
 

I felt panic setting in.  It felt like a strap tightening around my forehead.  I realised I was afraid of what might happen tomorrow, scared of Laura slipping beyond the hope of recovery if Paul left her, and worried about being the one to blow her secret.  However, right now, standing here shaking, I was more petrified of losing the people I love if we were indeed being led along a path towards an awaiting murderer. 

I couldn’t control the car crash last year, but I sure as hell could
try
to prevent this nightmare reaching its peak.

Was sacrificing my friendship and risking Laura’s sanity on a ‘what if’, a price I could pay in order to keep her safe?

Laura might not speak to me again, but at least she’d be safe.  I would phone the police as soon as I’d found some Champagne.  And hopefully, convince them to keep Paul in the dark about the affair.  Right or wrong, decision made - though it felt like my heart had been sliced down the middle.

Laura’s driveway was jammed with vehicles.  It would have resembled a small car sales forecourt if only balloons had been tied to the wing mirrors.

I pulled the white, grooved door of the garage up and over my head and stepped inside.  I walked around the bench press to the shadowy back wall.  The same dull shade of grey cloaked everything in sight.  I squinted to let my eyes adjust and saw boxes, tins of paint, and a stack of tattered magazines.  Everything except Champagne or a fridge. 

I rummaged through cupboards.  On opening the last one, I jumped back, unable to believe my eyes.  “Jesus! What the hell?”

Stuffed inside sat a crumpled rucksack.  Purple.  Identical to Laura’s bag which we’d used to deliver the blackmail money on the bridge. 
Why on earth is it here in her garage?
 

I edged back, rattled and confused.  Then I heard footsteps approaching from outside, and a faint scrape like a shoe along concrete.

“What are you looking for?” 

The rankled voice startled me.  I kicked the cupboard door shut with my heel and swung round in the shadows.

Paul’s silhouette loomed under the garage door. 

“Oh!” I held a hand over my thumping chest.  “You scared the life out of me.” 

He clicked a wall switch and the garage flooded with light.  His gaze shot over briefly to the stack of magazines.  “What are you doing in here?” 

“Sorry,” I mumbled, remembering this was his boy zone.  “I’m looking for Champagne, wine, or anything really.  Do you have any?”

Paul sighed, then gave a little laugh.  “Did Laura forget to buy booze?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded.

He smiled.  “I’m not surprised, what with organising the wedding ‘n’ all.”

“Yes.  It’s not easy.”

“Sorry for startling you.  I came in for a can of beer for Mark.  He’s looking stressed.”

My cheeks warmed.  “He is?” 

“Just between you, me, and the bench press, I think he might be nervous about his speech tomorrow.  He’s more a corporate stiff than a comic.  Go inside and enjoy yourself, Chelsea.  Tell everyone more booze is on its way.”

Paul stepped inside and blocked my view of the magazines. 

I caught a brief glimpse of a topless lady on the front cover.

“Go on,” he said.  “Join your friends.  You look like you need some fun.”

“Okay,” I replied in an uncertain voice.

My shoes felt glued to the ground, my feet numb and heavy.  Somehow I managed to shuffle sideways.

I prayed that Paul wouldn’t come across the purple bag. 

God knew what lay inside.

My heart raced at the thought.

CHAPTER 29

L
aura’s kitchen sounded like a battleground of female voices fighting to be heard above the dance music.  Food cartons, drinking glasses and mobile phones lay scattered across the central worktop island.

“Laura,” I whispered.  She needed to know I’d found her rucksack.  “I have to tell you something.”

She felt across the bench, reached for a drink but continued staring blankly across the room.

The house phone rang and Laura snapped out of her trance.  She skulked across the room and picked the phone up. 

I waited with baited breath, half-expecting Mark to be on the line listing new demands.

Thirty agonizing seconds later, Laura said down the phone, “Stop fretting, Aunt Carol.”

I sighed and flopped my head back.

“Yes, I have something
old
.”  Signs of irritation came through in Laura’s hissing voice.  “Give it to me tomorrow.  No.  Please don’t come round.” 

She banged the phone down on the receiver.  Poor Laura.  The last thing she needed was her slurring aunt to show up.

Laura trudged across the room towards me.  I noticed a bulge in her hip pocket.  Looking at it mentally stung my eyes.  There was really only one thing it could be.  That damn phone.  The very object that could make or break her relationship, her wedding, her dreams, her life…

Annoyed that we were both jumpy, and growing impatient, I whipped the phone from her pocket.  I sent a text to Mark’s anonymous mobile to nudge things along:
‘Seen the rucksack.  Give us the photos then get the hell out of this house!  Chelsea.’

I would send another, another, then another text until I got what I wanted.  The blackmail photos and Laura’s cash.

A minute later, the mobile bleeped.  A reply: ‘You’ll get what you deserve, Chelsea, sweetheart.  Be patient.’

I bit my lip, confused. 
Me?  What I deserve?  This is about Laura. 

During a lull in conversation and music, I heard the front door open then close.  The sucking sound of the door seal reminded me of an airplane hatch plugging shut and, for some bizarre reason, I now felt enclosed, trapped.  I looked into the hall.

Paul was back inside the house. 

At last.
 

I pushed the phone into Laura’s pocket and sat rigidly, preparing to sneak back out to the garage.

Laura leaned close to my ear as though to whisper.  Before she spoke, the house phone rang again.  Laura let the answering machine kick in.  “Probably checking I’ve got something
new,
or
blue,
this time,” she mumbled.  “At least she’s stopped pestering me for jewellery.”

Paul emerged through the kitchen doorway.  He held the throats of two bottles of bubbly and had a beer can tucked under his arm.  Many thirsty girls faced him.

“My kind of man,” Jayne said in a flirty voice.  “Eye candy
and
armed with booze.  Have a drink with us, Paul.”

“I can’t,” he said.  “I’ve got to drive.”

While I waited, willing Paul to leave the kitchen, I became aware of something else bugging me.  It was a similar feeling to realising I’d left the gas cooker on at home.  I frowned, trying to place the sensation.

“Cheers, Paul.”  Emma took the bottles.  “I really need a drink.”

Ditto
, I thought.

Paul stepped next to Laura and swept a lock of her hair behind her ear.  “Did I hear the phone ring?”