Authors: P.S. Brown
CHAPTER 14
15:16pm
Peter breathed a sigh of relief as the rustling noises started to move away from him. He edged cautiously up the wall and risked a glance into the grounds. He could see the man on the far side of the cemetery now, near the spot where Gavin was buried, making his way around towards the front of the church. Peter could hear the sounds of an ambulance whining in the distance behind him.
He got up and ran along the dusty path and down the alleyway, slowing as he reached the street. He cautiously looked out onto the street, just as the ambulance came tearing up the road and turned into the cul-de-sac towards the flats. Peter crossed over the road timidly and walked away from the commotion.
He was heading towards the town green, which lay out in front of the church, but realised that the man who had been chasing him might come back around this way after leaving the church. He decided to turn right and descended a flight of stairs which brought him down into Crooksbarn estate which lay directly behind the primary school he had passed earlier. This was considered ‘the posh end of town’ and he briskly walked down the street past the large townhouses. He had no idea where he was going and just walked aimlessly, his eyes darting to and fro nervously.
He continued to walk, with hunched shoulders, deeper into the maze of streets within Crooksbarn estate. He
lost track of time. Eventually he stopped in the middle of a street. The world was spinning around him, as if he was stood on a merry-go-round. He felt sick, he had to sit down. He perched himself on the edge of a wall. He was shivering uncontrollably. He put his hands to his mouth, the image of Colin plunging from the flats to the ground below played over and over again in his mind like a movie clip on a loop. He retched and started to dry-cough, but he wasn’t sick. He spat a little but his mouth was very dry. He continued to sit there, shivering and staring into thin air. A fine mist of rain fell silently.
The William Tell tune snapped him back to life. He held the mobile phone out in front of him staring at his own name flashing up on the screen. He didn
’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be home right now with his wife and son. Why had he come to this godforsaken town again? He hadn’t seen Gavin in over twenty years; he shouldn’t have come to the funeral.
The phone stopped ringing and immediately he felt guilty. What about the others out there?
Probably trapped, alone and afraid, not even aware that they were part of this sick bastard’s game. What if Celo didn’t ring back? What if he thought that Peter had been captured in the flats? Then the phone started to ring again and this time Peter answered quickly.
‘I’m here,’ he
breathed.
‘Congratulations on
your escape. It was a little bit close for comfort in the cemetery wasn’t it? I thought that guy was going to find you, cowering behind the wall.’
Peter looked around him again and wondered where the killer was. Celo had to have been in the flats, maybe even in the next apartment;
he could have watched him from the 10
th
floor window as he scrambled up the hill, jumped the fence and ran into the cemetery. Or could he have been one of the men giving chase? Pretending to be a concerned citizen? Whatever, this guy seemed to be everywhere. Was Celo watching him right now?
‘I know you must be in shock, but you don’t have time to mourn.’
Peter interrupted, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’
‘Peter, it
’s far too early in the game to give up. I know you’re disappointed that you’ve lost one but you can come back from this.’
Peter pleaded
, trying to appeal to Celo’s sense of humanity.
‘I know you keep saying this is a game, but it’s not. Colin is dead.’
Celo responded, unmoved.
‘Exactly, so you have to ask yourself, would you rather be the seeker or one of the hiders? Would you rather be depending on someone else to come and save you? You can be their saviour Peter. The other members of the Excellent Eight need you to be strong right now. We’re on a tight timescale and we need to
get on with the game.’
Peter found Celo’s attempt to console and motivate him disconcerting.
‘I just need to rest a bit; I’ve been running for thirty odd minutes.’
‘I know, but you don’t have time Peter. Besides the more time you have to think about it, the more you’ll become upset about Colin. I’m going to give you
the next clue.’
Celo was using the
old adage: you have to keep yourself busy after a trauma to avoid the inevitable feelings of grief and sadness. But this was ridiculous; he didn’t feel ready for the next clue. However, he couldn’t even muster up the strength to argue with Celo, and what use would it do anyway?
Celo gave him the next clue.
‘It’s a place where you used to go with the boys and the girls. She likes everything that Lawrence’s bakes. She’ll get fat if she eats all the cakes. Cheryl Stimson probably has good and bad memories of this place. You have until four o’clock to find and save her.’
Peter looked at the time on the phone and saw that it was 15:27pm. He suddenly found his anger.
‘33 minutes? That’s not long enough. You have to give me more time!’
‘Sorry Peter. The times have been set, I can’t change them.’
And with this final comment Celo ended the call.
Peter
repeated the clue in his head again. He was surprised how obvious it was. He knew exactly where he had to go.
CHAPTER 15
15:27pm
Martin Lawrence’s sweet shop stood in a row of four shops on Low Grange around the corner from the secondary school they all attended. They used to sneak out of school at dinner time and go around to Low Grange because there was a chip shop too. The Excellent Eight were not the only children who did this but one time they were all spotted by Mr Morgan who happened to be driving past. In hindsight Peter thought it was silly of them to run because Mr Morgan had seen them all anyway. Sure enough they were called one by one from their classes that same afternoon, down to the head teacher’s office to be scolded for going off school grounds during school hours. This had stopped the Excellent Eight from going to the shops for at least a week, which was considered about the right amount of time to stay off Mr Morgan’s radar. The task of tolerating proper school dinners for a whole week was punishment enough.
Cheryl Stimson had not always been as thin and attractive as men found her now. When the Excellent Eight were children Cheryl used to eat
her fair share of junk food and was an extremely chubby young lady. At Martin Lawrence’s sweet shop she would often spend more money than the other seven combined. Most might get a bag of chips for 50p and then a 10p mixed bag of sweets from Martin Lawrence’s shop. Cheryl would forego the chip shop and spend all her money in Martin Lawrence’s on the numerous sweets and cakes on offer. She would hardly ever have the same thing twice and used to relish the variety that was the cake slice of the day.
Cheryl had not always been as arrogant and stuck-up as she was now. In those days Cheryl was a quiet girl who was generally considered a goody two-shoes. If anything, she was the quietest and shyest member of the Excellent Eight, and the group could probably have been blamed for leading her astray on many occasions
; coercing her to do things she wouldn’t normally have done. The perils of peer pressure, Peter thought. He reflected on how much she had changed since those childhood days and decided that he had preferred her back then. She used to have a certain warmth to her and he had especially liked the way that she could be depended on to laugh at all his jokes, no matter how lame they were. He had only seen her briefly and swapped small talk pleasantries before Gavin’s funeral. Afterwards he had specifically sought her out to catch up and observed that she was a little standoffish and dismissive, batting away his attempts to strike up a conversation. He felt that her warmth had been replaced by a sense of bitterness and resentment, which he felt must have matured over the years as she had lost weight and become more attractive to the opposite sex.
On the day they were all spotted by Mr Morgan, everybody had run off and escaped except Cheryl, who
- balancing a crammed and messy éclair - had stood rooted to the spot outside the shop. She was collared by Mr Morgan and dragged back into the school. The whole episode upset her deeply, especially as Mr Morgan told her that her parents would be contacted regarding the incident. Ultimately the head teacher had decided to just warn the children, a decision which was taken badly by Mr Morgan who, Peter believed, relished getting children into as much trouble as possible.
Peter recalled
being summoned to the head teacher’s office with Cas who was in the same class as him at the time. They had laughed and joked all the way there, it was nothing new for them. Cheryl was in the foyer where she’d been standing for at least two hours. She kept her head down the whole time they were there, as if truly ashamed at what she had done, her face hiding behind her mopped hair. It was clear that she’d been crying. Peter was aware that Cheryl’s parents considered her to be their golden girl and put a lot of pressure and high expectations on her to be the best. However, it hadn’t occurred to him that Cheryl was upset because she was worried that her parents’ impression of her would be tarnished by this incident. Peter and Cas, and the other members of the group, couldn’t have cared less because they all knew that even if their parents were contacted they would, at the very most, receive a light scolding - it was such a minor incident. In fact, Peter reckoned that Cas’ father would have shouted more at the teachers for bothering him over nothing.
Peter finished his reminiscence and started to walk briskly out of the street. He couldn’t remember too much about the layout of Crooksbarn as they didn’t often venture here when they were children. He did remember that there was another exit over the far side of the estate that would bring him out onto a main road, Hyde Avenue. He could cross this road to get onto Wolviston estate. He would have to go through Wolviston estate to get onto Low Grange North before heading down into Low Grange South where the school and the shops were. Again, it was a large distance to cover in thirty minutes, and he lamented the fact that it would take about five minutes in a car.
Peter started to pick up the pace, ignoring the aching burning sensation in his shins and feet.
The path leaving the estate, even though it was still daylight, was dark; concealed as it was by ten foot high fences and trees either side. About half way down the path he jerked to a stop as he saw a police car race by the exit with its lights flashing. It reminded him that every police officer would be getting drafted in to investigate the death at the flats because it involved one of their own. He felt a slight sense of relief that the police might be preoccupied at the scene, and might not be looking for him yet as they would be interviewing all the residents of the flats. He then felt a surge of guilt at considering the death of his friend Colin as a fortunate distraction for the police. He continued down the path. He was pretty sure no one would have recognised him but enough people had seen him to give the police a general description. He had to be careful, he couldn’t get caught or he’d forfeit the game, as Celo had put it.
Peter arrived at the exit to the path and cautiously observed the traffic streaming up and down Hyde Avenue. He timed his runs to the break in the traffic to cross over and into Wolviston estate. He ran as fast as his body would let him, again questions went through his mind as he tried to make some sense out of what was happening. One nagging suspicion was standing strongly at the forefront of his mind. Celo must be a member of the Excellent Eight.
CHAPTER 16
15:39pm
Peter came running out of Wolviston estate, crossing over onto the road
that ran through the middle of Low Grange North into Low Grange South. He looked at his mobile whilst running; 21 minutes to go.
Peter continued with his train of thought. Celo
had to be a member of the Excellent Eight. How else could he know so much about the group? Maybe he’d gained the information under duress from each person, but it didn’t seem likely. Besides, Colin had said that he had just woken up in the flats and didn’t mention seeing or speaking to anyone. Colin thought he’d been drugged … if so,
how
were they drugged? Were they all drugged in the pub, something slow acting that was put in their drinks maybe? Peter tried to recall anything unusual with the drinks bought last night but nothing stood out. Something bugged him, if Celo had drugged them in the pub how would he be certain that they would all get to Colin and Michelle’s house before passing out? Celo must have drugged them all back at the house. He tried to remember who was serving the drinks. He could only remember having a couple of bottles before blacking out. He wasn’t sure but he thought he could recall Steve handing out bottles to him and Cas. He remembered what he’d considered earlier about a potential affair between Steve and Michelle. What if they were working together? Neither of them had been brought into Celo’s twisted game so far.
Peter wondered if he was right about the affair between Steve and Michelle.
When they were younger, all the boys knew that Colin fancied Michelle, and they were sure Laura and Cheryl knew how Michelle felt about Colin but the two sexes didn’t share their knowledge. Colin always sought attention from Michelle in that silly, childish way boys have of flirting with girls when they have no idea how to flirt. He would goad her and pick on her continuously to drive her crazy enough to give him attention. In response Michelle would look at the other girls, feign upset at Colin’s comments, say that she hated him unconvincingly and then usually hit him in the arm. Despite one awkward kiss between them - brought about by peer pressure - they didn’t get together when they were younger. Peter had heard from Gavin, a number of years ago, that Colin and Michelle had finally started dating when they were in their mid-twenties and had married six years ago, a few months before Peter had married Janine. For a second, a part of him hoped – almost believed - that this game would only involve Colin and Cheryl. Maybe Steve and Michelle had some motive for killing them both. Peter could form some semblance of a motive towards Colin based on whether he was right about the affair and the father of the unborn child, but he struggled with why Cheryl would be involved.
It was obvious to Peter from last night’s party that Steve and Colin were good friends. Although Peter did
remember that Colin had gotten irritable on a number of occasions when Steve cracked a derogatory joke about him, but Peter just took that as friendly banter. Michelle and Cheryl were good friends as well. Peter had observed nothing untoward with them, and in fact they had talked and laughed together most of the night; so much so that Peter remembered looking over to Laura who obviously felt out of touch with her two former girlfriends. Peter couldn’t recall any ill word or argument taking place between them. But that doesn’t mean anything he thought, there could quite easily be other things brooding under the surface, which he didn’t know about.
Peter felt like he was clutching at straws and his initial hope started to fade. Why would Celo mention the Excellent Eight so much if this game was only going to involve the death of Colin and Cheryl? And surely Michelle wouldn’t be involved in anything like this when expecting a child? The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t bring himself to find a disclaimer for Steve yet and he was currently at the top of his list of suspects.
Peter continued down the road, past the small fields either side which separated Low Grange North from Low Grange South. His face felt like it was on fire, and his lungs burned with his heavy panting. The rain had been getting steadily heavier over the last ten minutes but it offered no comfort to cool his burning face. His clothes were wet through and stuck to his body, making his movement more uncomfortable. He pulled out the mobile phone and checked the time; he had just fifteen minutes to save Cheryl.