TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Suspense) (9 page)

“And a hairbrush,” Emma joked.  “I meant to phone you earlier, Chelsea.  How did your date go yesterday?”

“Not the best.”

“Aw.  Too bad.  Laura said you’ve been to see someone tonight.  Another date?”

I shook my head.

“And have you had another one of those virus-thingy emails?”  Emma plucked a hunk of lint off her shrug.

“No,” I lied.  She was bound to glance up at me, so I concentrated on acting and looking all innocent in case she did.  

“Glad to hear it.  I said it was nothing to worry about.”  She sipped her drink and I tried not to sigh in relief that she’d believed me. 

Laura returned with a glass of bubbly and a brilliant smile, but no hairbrush.  “Worry about what?”

“That email,” Emma said.

Laura handed me a glass.  “Oh, that.” 

I faked a smile.  I didn’t relish dealing with things on my own, but bringing my friends into the loop could put them at risk, too.  I couldn’t bear that.  Not my closest friends.  This left me with no choice other than to take a step back.

“Put some music on and let’s dance,” I shouted, ditching my ponderous mood.

Laura’s face lit up at my new, spirited attitude.  She nodded before fiddling with the remote.  Dance music blasted from the corner speakers. 

While ideas and excuses buzzed around my brain, I downed my drink, leapt from the sofa and danced as though it were my last chance for fun. 

When the CD finished, the three of us crashed side by side onto the sofa, laughing, then I took a breath and told them that I’d be off radar for a few days.  Helping my parents out. 

Laura’s smile dropped.

Emma  rubbed her hands together then pointed at me.  “Parents my ass!  I know that sneaky little look.  You’ve bagged yourself a new man!  That’s who you were with tonight.”

I paused, noting the obvious delight in Emma’s expression.  She didn’t know it, but she’d just gifted me with the perfect explanation. 

“Spot on,” I told them, nodding theatrically.  “Can’t keep my hands off him.  Can’t hide anything from you, Emma, can I?  So, promise me you’ll not worry and keep everything on track for the wedding.  Please.  It’s important to me.”  I stared with new confidence until they nodded, looking mainly at Laura. 

“This has all happened very fast,” Laura said.

The beep of a car horn travelled in from the street. 

Emma peeked through the curtains, then ran her fingers through her long blond hair.  “My taxi’s here.  The driver looks kind of cute.”  She slipped her heels on, grabbed her belongings and made for the front door.  She winked at me over her shoulder.  “Love to stay and squeeze more gossip from you, but I have to get going.  Let me know how it goes with your mystery man, and hopefully he’s got a brother for me!”   

We waved until her taxi drove off, then shut the quiet streets away for the night.

Laura aimed a curious look at me.  “I’m guessing that... Lee is your new man?  How did this happen so fast?” 

I nodded, but gave nothing else away.  I ran my fingers along the wooden banister until I reached the top of the curved staircase. 

“He seems rude.  I don’t like him.  He expected you to drop everything to meet him tonight.  You barely know him, and now you’re romping and booking hotel rooms?”

The baldness of Laura’s comments caught me off guard.  The subsequent silence meant she expected a response.  I didn’t have one.  Not one I wanted her to hear.

“I’m sorry, Chelsea.  I’m just looking out for you.”  She paused.  “Do me one favour.”

“What?”

“Before you go jumping into bed with him – if you haven’t already - find out exactly who you’re jumping into bed with.”

Her words made no sense.  She wanted me to start dating again, and although I wasn’t, I wondered at her problem with this particular guy.

CHAPTER 7

M
orning broke too early for my liking.  Whoever prowled outside the bedroom door made a creaking sound.

“Can I come in?” Laura whispered.

“Yes.  I’m awake.  It’s your house.”

The door glided across the carpet and she entered, fully dressed.  “I need to nip out.  Do you want to stay here?”

“No.  I’ve got things to do.  I’ll get up.”

“Okay.  See you downstairs.” 

The thought of what my day had in store made me shudder.  After a moment of quietly complaining and hugging the pillow, I dragged myself into the ensuite and took a quick shower.  I needed to hurry.  I had the world to face, a problem to solve and I couldn’t do any of it by lulling around, festering in self-pity. 

On my way downstairs, I saw Laura jangling her keys and pointing towards the front door, impatient to leave. 

“You’ll have to wait a minute.  I need a drink.”  I walked into the kitchen, filled a glass with water from the tap, and noticed a red rose head sticking out from under the lip of the kitchen bin.  “What’s up with the flowers?”

Laura walked to the bin, stuffed what appeared to be half a dozen roses deeper inside and buried their redness under screwed up newspaper.  “Don’t know who sent them.  But I know it wasn’t Paul.”

“A stranger sent you red roses?”

“No message on the card.  Just a large X for a kiss.”

I rubbed my hands together in jest.  “Ooh!  Secret admirer?”

Laura rolled her eyes.  “Oh please, Chelsea.  Lose the cheeky grin.  And don’t say a word to Paul.  It’s just not appropriate when I’m about to marry the guy.”

“My lips are sealed.  But don’t you want to know who sent them?  I mean, it’s lovely that someone likes you enough to arrange flowers.”

“It doesn’t matter.  It’s too late.  I’ve made my choice.”  She turned on her heels.

While downing my drink, the house phone rang. 

“I’ll get it.”  I picked up the receiver on the bench to my left.  “Hello?”

No answer.

“Heeello?  Who’s calling?”

“I’m waiting,” a muffled voice said.

“Who is this?”

The line went dead.

“How weird,” I muttered, staring at the little microphone holes on the receiver.

Laura came up behind me.  “What’s weird?”

“They said
‘I’m waiting,’
then hung up.” 

Laura took the phone from my hand and placed it back on the cradle.  “If it’s important they’ll phone my mobile.  Let’s go.” 

I shrugged.  “If you say so.”  We walked down the hall, and at the front door, I startled her with a warm embrace.  Nestling my head into the curve of her neck, I took in her latest home-mixed scent and squeezed hard. 

“Wow.  What?” she giggled.  “I’m not leaving forever.  Just for an hour or two.  My aunt wants me to keep her in the loop about the wedding.  If I don’t go over there, she’s likely to come round here, and I’ll never get rid of her.  She’s made a big check list.  She’s driving me round the bend.  The worst one was when she insisted that I sort out a pre-nup.”

“Ooh.  Tricky.”

“I did it to stop her nagging.  Paul understood.”

“So he should.  He’s a nice guy.”

She smiled.  “Lucky me.  Anyway, come back later if you’ll miss me
that
much.  And, sorry for being snappy lately.  I don’t mean to be.” 

I nodded against her shoulder, then trudged to my car with a lump in my throat.  Like any rational person, I wanted someone’s help.  But I was doing Laura a big favour by cutting her loose.  Right now, being near me could be dangerous.

The further I drove from Laura’s, the more daylight faded.  Thick, grey clouds rolled in.  A rainstorm was on the horizon.  Stupidly, I wondered if my mood had caused it.  On the approach to my street I realised that if Lee was right, another email containing a get-out-clause puzzle could arrive any moment.  I needed to view it in large on my computer screen.  If I logged on via my mobile, some graphics could be missed, or run slow, meaning I’d blow my opportunity to beat any puzzle it contained.  I’d already figured out the last email arrived late morning and wondered if the sender would stick to a pattern.  I assumed even killers had jobs or schedules.  I put my foot down to beat the storm.  

Once indoors, after sweeping the house for intruders, I booted up the computer and went into the kitchen.  While I waited for my toast to pop, I prayed that the email sender would slip up and leave a clue as to their identity so that I had a lead to give to the police. 

A sudden urge to phone my parents came to me, strong as thirst.  I needed to hear my mum's comforting voice.  I settled for looking at a photo instead.  I didn’t want to worry them.  My mum never missed a trick.  She was bound to pick up on telltale nerves in my voice. 

I searched the fireplace for the silver-framed picture of them in their summer garden, but couldn’t find it.  What did I do with it?  I scanned the other pictures, then found it switched with a photo of Laura, Emma and me taken a couple of months ago.  I smiled, reminiscing the surprise spa day which Laura’s fiancé Paul had organised.  I looked back to my parents’ photo, then stared at the place it should have been.

My toast popped up.  I spread a thick layer of lumpy jam on it and ate.  On the last bite, I moved the few strides into my dining room and faced the computer desk. 
Am I ready?  Alert enough? 
As soon as I switched it on, if there was another game in the email, I’d have to solve it on my own.  I couldn’t afford to blow my chance of stopping that damn death clock by not being focused. 

I took a step nearer to the desk, cutting through the invisible tension that lingered in the room. 

“Check my emails.  Call the police,” I told myself.  Simple.

A burst of knocking on the front door shattered the silence.  I stopped typing my password, then edged into the hallway. 

A dark, wide object moved past the magazine-sized window in my front door, causing me to flinch and press my back against the wall. 
What the hell is that?
  The dark shape shot past the window again.   No one would attack me on the doorstep in broad daylight, surely?  Ridiculous!  The neighbours would see. 

This was one of the rare times I’d wanted to find either a double-glazing or annoying gas & electic salesperson at my door, with a clipboard and cheesy grin, claiming, as they all do, that their prices were the lowest. 

After checking the safety chain was in place, I wrapped my fingers around the handle, pushed it down and inched the door open. 

CHAPTER 8

A
slice of a trouser leg stepped into view through the gap of the front door.  The stiletto remained wielded above my head.  Paul stood on the pavement, bleary-eyed and wet, holding his navy jacket as a makeshift umbrella in a wide triangle above him.  He peered at me through the gap. 

I felt stupid, but that relieved I could have grabbed hold and kissed him.  “Crikey, Paul, it’s you.”  I unhooked the chain and opened the door.

“Chelsea... you okay?”  He eyed my shoe.  “What’s that for?”

I chucked the stiletto behind me, which landed on the laminate floor with a thump.  “Nothing.  Having a clear out.  Come in.  Did you enjoy your stag party?  I see you still have both eyebrows intact.”