The Unexpected Coincidence (3 page)

Pretending that
nothing had caught her off stride, she grabbed her pen and scrawled
her name across the inside title page of the books in front of her
and passed them back to her friends.

“I'll let you both
know when I'm back, and we'll go for drinks.”

They nodded and
waved goodbye as they left the shop. Hoping she'd not annoyed the
geek who appeared to be her next fan, she gave him her warmest
smile.

“Sorry about
keeping you waiting,” she said as she held out her hands for him to
pass her all the books. He hesitated and passed them to her so
awkwardly that their arms and hands tangled and the top book went
thudding to the floor, narrowly missing her toes.

“Oh gosh, I'm so
sorry,” he said, turning red.

“Don't worry, they
must have been heavy for you to hold for so long.”

“And I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to hurry you with your friends. I... I have to get back
to my mother. She has multiple sclerosis. My brother's with her,
but I said I wouldn't be long.”

Amelia nodded and
picked up the book that was on the floor for him. In his awkward
state he'd left it there, his hands wringing together in front of
him. She placed the whole pile on the table she'd been provided
with.

“Well, why don't I
get these signed as swiftly as possible and then you can get back
to her? Are they yours or hers?” She pointed to the books when he
looked at her blankly.

“Oh, they're
mine,” he said and grabbed one to open it to the right page for
her. “I like to read when she has her afternoon nap. Your books are
so exciting. I often imagine I'm Dalton.”

Amelia almost
dropped the pen. The letter had mentioned the same character, and
this fan definitely looked like the type to obsess over
something.

“What's your
name?” she asked, hoping he hadn't noticed her surprise.

“Thomas, uh, Guy.
I'm Guy Thomas.” He blinked rapidly while he spoke and continued to
rub his hands together in the same odd pattern, almost as if he was
constantly washing them.

“Guy's a good
name,” she replied, focusing on the books to give him time to
recover from his embarrassment. He wasn't the first socially
awkward person to come to a signing of hers, and she knew he
wouldn't be the last.

A few minutes
later she'd signed all of them and stacked them back up in a neat
pile.

“Do you want a
photo?” Amelia asked when he went to pick them up again.

“I... uh... my
phone doesn't have a camera. It's one of the old ones,” he said and
his cheeks coloured once more.

“Well, maybe
another time then. Have a good day, Guy, and say hello to your
mother from me.”

“I will, thank
you. Thank you.” He backed away, a smile broadening across his face
until he almost tripped over his own feet.

Not wanting to
embarrass the poor man further, she quickly averted her eyes and
homed in on the next person in the queue. A more elderly woman,
with what appeared to be her daughter. Thankfully, they only had
three books between them.

The rest of the
morning flew by in a haze of faces and names she didn't have a hope
of remembering. But one stuck in her mind. Guy was strange, and his
allusion to Dalton put her on edge. No matter how hard she tried,
she couldn't get his awkward meeting of her out of her head. It
kept most of her focus over lunch, making it difficult for her to
talk to the staff while they gave her an hour for lunch in the
break room with them.

Whenever she spent
so long in one shop she tried to give the workers some time to talk
to her as well. It was a way she could thank them for their help in
making the signings go well, but she was too preoccupied. She felt
guilty for her behaviour when her hour was over and she'd barely
said two words to the new guy, even after he'd introduced himself
as a big fan. Her remorse grew even worse when she realised she
couldn't remember his name either. It might have begun with a k,
but even that wasn't a detail she was sure of.

The afternoon went
better and was less of a blur by the time she stopped. Her wrist
ached from spending so much time signing, but for the first time,
there were people who were still waiting. Normally, she kept going
until the queue ran out and then had a few slower hours when she
signed books as people walked in with them, but she had to leave
the store at four in the afternoon to get to Birmingham and check
into her hotel on time.

Amelia frowned and
tried to think of some way the people still waiting could get what
they wanted. As an idea formed in her mind, she looked around for
the manager.

“I've got to go,
but could you collect the name and address of anyone who still
hasn't had a book signed and keep the information for me. I'll have
them all sent a signed bookplate when I get the opportunity
to.”

“That's a
wonderful idea. I'll get Kevin on it right away.”

“Brilliant. I'll
pick it up when I'm home.”

She smiled and
said goodbye to everyone within earshot before rushing towards the
door. A tour company that specialised in arranging signings for
authors had already sent around the car that would take her to
Tamworth. With a sigh of relief, she slipped into the back and
noticed the glass was tinted, to hide her from the watching eyes
outside.

Sleepiness crept
over her as the driver ate up the miles along the M5. She woke up
with a start as the car pulled into the hotel parking lot.

“We're here, Miss
Jones,” the driver said, glancing at her through the rear-view
mirror.

“Wonderful, thank
you. And please, call me Amelia,” she replied and stifled a
yawn.

The driver helped
her carry her bags to the foyer, where the hotel staff took
over.

“See you
tomorrow,” she said and smiled at the driver. He nodded and waved
before walking away. Wherever he was going, he didn't seem to be
staying in the hotel with her. She hoped that he wasn't sleeping in
the car at his age. He didn't look to be more than a few years off
retirement. The wedding ring on his finger had also told her that
he was likely to have a family waiting for him somewhere. Sebastian
would have been proud of her for noticing at least something about
him.

“Oh,” she said
aloud, remembering that Myron had told her stage two would begin
sometime that day. There wasn't much of the day left. The
receptionist raised her eyebrows at Amelia's outburst but she
didn't explain and the woman didn't ask, handing her the keycard to
her room instead.

Still feeling
tired, Amelia didn't bother to go to the dining room and have
dinner first, but went straight to her room. The publisher was
picking up the bill, so they could pay the little bit extra it cost
to have her evening meal in her room.

After ordering,
she unpacked the few bits and pieces she'd need for the night and
her clothes for the following day to hang them somewhere they
wouldn't get creased. It helped keep her awake while she waited,
something she found she needed more than she ought to.

A knock on the
door let her know her room service was there.

“Come in,” she
yelled, in the middle of putting her toiletries in the
bathroom.

When she walked
back into the bedroom with its small sitting area and couch by a
medium sized television, the waiter was laying out what she'd
ordered on the small table.

“A letter arrived
for you as well, so I brought it up from reception.”

“Brilliant, thank
you.” She handed him a few coins as he gave her the envelope. With
a smile, he left her to her food and the letter she assumed would
be from Myron, but as she bothered to look at the envelope, she
realised the name wasn't in his handwriting. Just like the letter
on her doormat that morning, this one had a blocky script that was
nothing like her mentor's.

Amelia sat down
heavily on the sofa and stared at it. A second letter in so short a
space of time was a bad sign, especially given that her publisher
hadn't replied to her email about the first one yet. She shivered
and did her best to open this one without the ease of tools she'd
had in her kitchen the previous time. She used the butter knife
they'd given her to go with her bread roll and pulled the letter
out, covering her fingers with her jacket sleeve. A small jewellery
pouch came with it.

Amelia,

I'm sorry if I
made you feel awkward today. I didn't mean the declarations of my
affection towards you to make your day harder. It was strange that
you pretended you didn't know me when we met again, but I know you
must have been worried about showing favouritism in front of the
others. Especially after those two men interrupted you and took up
so much of your time.

I'm not sure I
liked how familiar they were with you, even if they are gay. They
hugged you like they were your lovers. I'm sure you wouldn't debase
yourself with men like them, however. I can only say I was relieved
when you moved on to the rest of your fans and got rid of them.

Let me know if
you want to meet up some time soon and have coffee, or perhaps even
dinner together while you're on tour. I've taken some time off to
be able to meet up with you and I've also included a token of my
affection. I remember you tweeting at some point that you liked
penguins. Wear them sometime in the next few days and I'm sure I'll
notice them.

Your devoted
fan.

With trembling
hands, Amelia put the letter down on the coffee table and turned
her attention to the small blue velvet bag. She opened it with her
sleeves again and tipped the contents onto the wooden surface. Two
silver penguin earrings fell out.

Leaving them
there, Amelia got to her feet and paced back and forth. Her whole
body was shaking despite the warmth of the room. Given the content
of the message, she was pleased she'd opted to have dinner in her
room, but the writer had known where she was staying and sounded
like he was going to follow her from place to place.

After fishing her
phone from her handbag, Amelia navigated to her editor's number and
started the call. This late it was possible that Shane had gone
home, but she could hope he was working late. If not she'd leave
him a message.

“Hello?” Shane
said after only three rings.

“Hiya, it's
Amelia. I think I may have a bit of a problem.”

“What's up? Are
you all right?” Concern for her radiated out of every word and she
could almost hear him sitting forward to listen. Under her breath,
she thanked the room that she had such a caring editor.

“I had a bit of a
strange letter posted through my letterbox in the early hours of
this morning and I'm a bit concerned about the guy who wrote
it.”

“Yeah, I got your
email. I assumed it wouldn't be much to worry about with you not
being there for a few weeks.”

“I just got
another letter. And this time there was a gift with it. And it was
hand-delivered, with details of my signing today. He says I saw him
today and thinks I pretended not to know him.”

“Slow down,
Amelia. Why don't you read me the letters?”

“I don't have the
first one. I left it at home.”

“All right, tell
me what you can remember and then read me this second one. Let's
see if we can figure out a little more about this guy and if he's
really a threat to you. It's not the first time you've had strange
letters. We've dealt with them all in the past.” His voice remained
calm and steady, and by the time Shane had finished speaking Amelia
also felt calmer. She sat back down again and closed her eyes to
picture the first letter.

“That doesn't
sound too bad,” Shane said.

“No, it doesn't by
itself.”

“All right, so
read me this second one.”

She did as he
asked and then waited for him to comment. Reading it again made her
feel even worse, and it took all her composure to wait for Shane to
speak.

“Okay, that does
sound a little worse than normal. Why don't you take a photo of
what you have there and email it to me along with all the other
information you know. Things like when you got the letters. I'll
look over everything and see if we can get you some extra
security.”

“All right. What
should I do in the meantime?”

“Get some sleep
and try not to worry. You're safe in your room. I'll get the driver
to come get you from your room in the morning, if you want.”

“Yes, please.” She
shuddered again despite his reassurances. The room didn't feel
safe.

“I'll speak to the
hotel desk and let them know to keep an eye out. Do you want to let
the police know too?”

“I...” She stopped
speaking, unsure of the answer. She hadn't thought about going that
far. It might make her feel safer, but it might just be more hassle
than it was worth.

“Or you could get
a friend to join you. We wouldn't mind paying for someone to be
with you, so you're not alone, until you feel safe again.”

“No, I don't think
that will be necessary. I know someone I can phone who can
help.”

“That Sebastian
Holmes guy?” Shane asked.

“Yes,” she
replied, lying and following it with a goodbye. A few months back
she would have phoned Sebastian, but not now she knew his elder
brother. Who else would you phone when you had a stalker who wanted
to be your controlling boyfriend but your mentor who was pretending
to be your controlling boyfriend?

Mycroft sat in his
study, reading the report that some homeless teenager had delivered
to his door a few minutes ago. It had cost him a twenty-pound note
but it was useful enough he didn't mind. It was also early, and
that let Mycroft know that his brother felt some sort of guilt or
remorse for refusing to help the previous day. Although it was also
possible that Sherlock had no cases and was bored.