TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Suspense) (5 page)

“Listen.  I know you’ve only just arrived, but I need to nip to town.”  She darted across the room and rummaged through a drawer.  “Do you mind waiting here?  Read a magazine or something.” 

“I’ll come with you,” I said, puzzled by her urgency.  “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Laura poked around another drawer and stuffed a piece of paper into her bag.  She cocked her head towards the hall resembling a person with a twitch - not a flattering look. 

I dashed out the front door.  “I can take a hint.  But what’s the hurry?” 

We drove to town in Laura’s car.  She didn’t answer my question.  Laura loved shopping.  Today she had no interest in it.

“I need to nip to the collection office before it shuts.  Will you wait here for me?”  Laura slipped away, leaving me standing on the path in the middle of town. 

My mobile pinged with a text from Jayne, asking how my date went.  I typed a reply:  ‘
Never again.  You’re sacked! Xx’

Ten minutes later, Laura returned with a parcel tucked under her arm. 

“What’s in the box?” I asked, touching it.

“Nothing important.”  She moved the parcel, wedging it under her other arm out of my view.

“Is it for the wedding?  Can I see?”

“No.”

I folded my arms, and glanced at the parcel from the corner of my eye. 
Perhaps it’s a bridesmaid gift for me
, I thought, grinning.  “Is it a—“

“You’re being very nosey lately, Chelsea.”

“Huh?  What’s that supposed to mean? 
Lately
?”

“Never mind.  Just forget the damn parcel, will you?”

I hooked her arm.  “No.  Tell me.  What do you mean?”

"Please, drop it."  Laura's mouth curved downwards.  

“Take a chill pill,” I said.  “I was only playing around.  You’re not normally so secretive.  What’s up?”

Laura shrugged off my grip.  “I’m not being secretive.”

“And, I suppose you’re not being snappy, either.”  I nudged her and smiled, hoping she’d break out of her mood.

Laura shoved a hand through her hair.  “Chelsea, just... grrr.”  She marched ahead and didn’t look back.

“Hey, Laura!  Wait up.”  I chased after her, but lost her among the mass of bobbing heads on the path.  She simply vanished. 

Holy crap!
 
What was that outburst all about?
  I figured all brides should be entitled to the odd ‘
Bridezilla’
moment, but assumed that would be regarding the dress, the cake... 

The wind kicked up a small storm of debris around my ankles as I waited, leaning against a shop wall, staring up and down the busy street.  She’d have to face me at some point.  My car was outside her house. 

Laura didn’t accept my phone calls, so I left a message to try and win her round.  It worked. 

She returned fifteen minutes later, red-faced, parcel still under her arm.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I should think you are.  Don’t do that again or we really will fall out.”

She hugged me, then we headed to the car and drove to her house. 

I drank a quick coffee in her kitchen before standing up to leave. 

Laura showed me down the hall.  She stroked a finger over a framed photo of her parents.

I fished my car keys out of my bag, then placed my hand on her shoulder.  “They’d be so proud of you, Laura Harris.”  I guessed that’s what she needed to hear.

“Not for much longer,” she said, with a sparkle in her eyes. 

I nibbled my lip, trying to understand.  “Huh?”

“My name.  It’ll be Johnson soon.”

“Of course.  Mrs. Laura Johnson.” 
Phew!
  I thought,
silly me
. 

There was no doubt in my mind she’d have traded
all
her money and houses to have her parents back - even if just for her wedding day.  I would have done the same.

“Stay!” Laura said, turning to face me.  “It’s Paul’s stag do tonight, and I don’t much fancy being on my own.”

I nodded.  “Sure.  I’m not at work tomorrow.  I’ll nip home for a few belongings.”

“Good, because I’ve got some calls to make.  Check up on the cake, photographer, that sort of thing.”

Half an hour later, I returned to Laura’s house with a bag in one hand and a bottle of bubbly in the other.

“You shouldn’t have,” Laura said, opening the front door.  “We’ll have bubbly coming out of our ears if we keep this pace all week.”

We kicked back on the sofa for several hours watching a romcom movie.  Having failed to engage Laura in chitchat, I got the impression that company was not something she wanted, despite having invited me round.  The bubbly stood unopened in the fridge. 

I could have chosen this down time to ask Laura why she’d overreacted in town, but I recognised her need for
not
wanting to talk, as much as the times when she ached to get something off her chest.  Perhaps she was worried about what the guys would do to Paul on his stag night: string him to a lamppost, naked, or something equally humiliating.

My stomach began rumbling. 

Laura must have had the same feeling.  “Takeout time.”

“Good idea,
Bridezilla
,” I said.  I put my hand over my mouth to conceal my grin, dreading her reaction.

A hint of a smile flashed onto Laura’s face.

My phone rang, giving me no time to get excited about food.  I glanced into the hall following the tune, cheerful yet annoying.  I needed to download a new ring tone. 

Laura bolted to the kitchen looking like she’d entered a race, only to stop when she realised it was my phone ringing.  “Oh, I thought it might be... Paul.”

I came up behind her and picked up my mobile.  “Don’t you know your own ringtone?”  I pressed the phone to my ear.  “Hello?”

“Hi.  Is this Chelsea?” a smooth, male voice asked.

“Yeah.  Who is this?”

“Lee.”

“Oh!”  In disbelief, I mouthed his name to Laura. 

Her eyes rolled in response.  “Leave the poor guy to grieve,” she whispered, then put her head next to mine and listened in on the call anyway.

“Phillip gave me your note,” Lee said.  “The one you wrote on a serviette.  We need to meet.”

 “Meet?” I said.  “It’s about your brother, right?  I thought we could just talk on the phone.”

“It would be better in person.  But tell me one thing, you’re definitely not a reporter, are you?  Because I don’t want my mum, who’s distraught enough already, opening the paper tomorrow and reading—”

“No.  Like I said, it was a ploy to get free drinks.  I swear.”

Laura tensed at my side, shook her head and stepped away from me.  A drawer scraped open and she turned, waving a takeout menu in the air and smiling brightly.

“I’m at my friend’s for the night,” I said.  “Can we meet up tomorrow?”

“It won’t take long, besides, I’m busy tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to ask Laura.  It’s not fair if I… hold on.” 

Her eyes ran over the menu on the kitchen counter.  She said nothing, but I sensed her growing irritation.  Before I could whisper a single word, she shook her head again, without even looking at me.  Annoyed with her, I said, “I’m going to meet him.”  I figured some time alone might be just what she needed. 

Laura paused mid-motion.  Her attitude became clear when she dropped the takeout menu back in the drawer and slammed it shut with her bottom. 

“Are you still there?” Lee asked.  “Can we meet?”

I tapped my thigh while watching Laura stomp toward the hall in a huff. 
You’re really doing my head in today
, I thought, shaking my head at her.  Her sharp gaze, while brushing past me, intensified my need to escape for an hour.  Besides, my so-called ‘dead stalker’ had piqued my interest too much to decline.  Laura and her fluctuating moods would still be here on my return, no doubt.  “Oh, let’s live dangerously, stranger!  Where are you?”

CHAPTER 4

T
he shutters were down on the shops.  The streets quiet bar distant traffic sounds.  I parked my scratched Corsa then walked to the meet point near the main shopping area.  A crowd of young people strolled ahead along my side of the path, revealing Lee outside a small lingerie store. 

I waved, then lowered my arm when he spotted me. 

He was hovering by the display window, had stiff shoulders and was tapping his foot.  The wind lifted his floaty fringe of hair off his face.

I strolled over.

“Hey.  Thanks for coming,” he said politely, but bewilderment was etched across his face.  “I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Suits me.”

“Why did you ask me to check my brother’s emails?”

“Someone sent me the phrase ‘Tick, tock.  Your number’s up,’ in an email the other day.  I tried to tell you on Saturday night.”

Lee’s eyes snapped wide open.  They were chestnut brown and had a luminous warmth which reminded me of glossy chocolate sauce.  “In an email, you say?  What else do you know?”

I slipped my hands in my jean pockets.  “I hoped you might be able to tell
me
what it’s about.”

“You mentioned a computer virus on Saturday.  Why?”

“I thought my email might contain a virus.”  I lowered my gaze.  “But something—”

“Go on.  Spit it out.”  He motioned with his hand.

I met his eyes again.  “Something just feels wrong.  I wondered if your brother first read that phrase in a similar—”

His posture became ruler-straight.  “Email?”

“I’m sure I sound silly, but yes.  Finding out that your brother is dead, and that phrase sounding like his dying words, ending up in my inbox, well, it kind of freaked me out.”

He leaned against the brick wall.  “So, you’re wondering whether there’s a link between you and Daryl?”

I nodded.  “I guess so.”

“And between the email, his text, and death?”

I folded my arms and stifled a laugh at myself.  “I know it sounds ridiculous.  But, basically, yes.”

Lee’s face hardened.  The fact that he didn’t mock me came as a relief, but it also worried me.  I narrowed my eyes.  Was he just humouring me?

“I don’t think it sounds ridiculous at all,” he said, searching my face with his eyes.  “Something’s not right about my brother’s death, so you’ve got my attention.”

I traded a suspicious stare with Lee, eyes burning into each other for what seemed like forever. 

He took a deep breath.  “Let’s find out what’s going on, shall we?” 

Lee turned his back and walked ahead of me along the street.  I wanted to discover if my email was connected to his dead brother.

Or did I?

I gnawed the inside of my lip, then moved and followed him.