Trust No One: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Monday night had not gone at all how Howard had expected. He had shown up at Fern’s, not really sure what exactly he was walking into, just relieved she wasn’t expecting him to shag Janice. That relief wobbled when he walked into the kitchen, found Janice sitting on a bar stool at the counter.

Her face lit up as she saw him. ‘Hey, Howard. How are you, mate?’

She leapt down from the stool, squeezed him in a hug that nearly broke him, the faint odour of sweat and poorly laundered clothes offending his nostrils. He eased himself free, wanting to excuse himself for a shower. Instead he gave her a cool smile and settled himself on a bar stool down the other end of the counter, smoothing down his shirt and the lapels of his jacket.

This kitchen was Fern all over, glossy and showy, with little substance. He had to give the woman credit, though. At thirty-one, her arse still looked ripe in her tight jeans and he admired it as she reached down into the cooler fridge to get him a beer.

Just a shame the face has weathered slightly, he thought unkindly, as she handed him the bottle. With the lights low she could probably still pass for a 6.5.

‘So why are we here?’ he asked, still dubious to the reasons, and watching Janice suspiciously, convinced if he took his eye off her, she might start dry humping him.

‘It’s about the notes,’ Janice announced.

‘The notes?’ Howard repeated, confused.

Fern looked furious at Janice for stealing her thunder. She had always been about the build-up. ‘I know you’ve received them,’ she said coolly. ‘We all have.’

Howard wracked his brains. ‘You mean the sex notes?’

‘Sex notes?’ That was Fern and Janice in unison.

‘The ones that said I had done something bad.’ He broke off, frowned at Fern. ‘I thought maybe you had sent them.’

‘Me?’ She looked affronted at that. ‘Why the hell would I send you sex notes?’ She was pacing now, that tight arse in those tight jeans difficult to distract his eyes from. ‘And they are not bloody sex notes. We’ve all received them.’

‘All?’ He looked at her blankly.

‘You, me and Janice.’

‘You had a note like this.’ Janice rooted in her giant handbag, pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and passed it to him. ‘Right?’

He read the words, recognising them. ‘Okay.’ Now he was a little unsure at the course the conversation was taking. ‘So who sent them and why?’

‘Do you think we would be standing here having this conversation if I knew who had sent them?’ Fern growled.

‘But why have we all got them?’

‘You honestly can’t figure out why?’

‘Nope.’

‘How about a little refresher? You, me, Janice, Gary, Rachel Williams and Kelly Dearborn. We were fourteen.’

Howard cast his mind back, remembering. ‘Oh, that. It was years ago.’ Still, the smile he had been wearing disappeared from his face. ‘And anyway, Gary’s dead, Fern.’

‘I bloody know that. And do you know who else is dead?’

‘Who?’

‘Kelly. She died in a fire, just like Gary did.’

‘Really? That’s a bit of a coincidence. What are the chances of that?’

‘It’s not a coincidence, Howard.’

‘We’re being punished,’ Janice piped up, sliding ungraciously off her bar stool and edging closer. ‘Because of what we did.’

‘What?’ Were they being serious? They were being targeted for a stupid prank they had played when they were fourteen years old?

‘Are you still in touch with Rachel Williams?’

‘Of course not. Why would I be?’

‘Because I am trying to track her down. We need to get to the bottom of who is sending us these notes.’

‘So back up a minute. Let’s be clear. You are saying that Kelly and Gary were both murdered?’

‘Yes!’

‘So why aren’t the police investigating?’

‘They are.’

‘Yes, but why aren’t they investigating the connection?’

‘Because they don’t fucking know about it.’ Fern’s face was suddenly in front of his and she looked really peed off. ‘You’re not getting this? Whoever is targeting us hurt Kelly and Gary. We’re being punished. The police don’t know their deaths are connected because they don’t know what we fucking did!’

‘Okay, and say you’re right–’

‘I am right. Why the hell else would we all be getting these notes?’

‘So did Gary and Kelly get notes too?’

‘I don’t know. How would I know that?’

Howard was quiet for a moment, as he pondered the situation. There was no escaping the fact that someone was targeting them all with the notes, but were they really connected to Gary and Kelly’s deaths? He had to admit, it was odd that they had both died in a fire. ‘Maybe we should go to the police, tell them what really happened,’ he suggested.

Fern’s eyes nearly popped. ‘Are you having a laugh?’

‘We can’t do that!’ Janice looked equally distressed at the idea. ‘What if we go to jail?’

‘Why would we go to jail? We were fourteen years old. It was just a stupid prank that went wrong.’

‘But we were responsible. It was because of us it happened.’

‘We were kids!’

‘We killed her!’ screeched Janice.

‘It was a prank, damn it. A stupid bloody prank!’

‘You are not telling. I am not gonna risk going to jail.’

They were face to face now, yelling at each other; Janice, red and sweaty, her features contorted, while Howard could feel the veins in his neck bulging.

Neither one was aware of Fern approaching. The hard slap on the backs of both their heads momentarily shocked them into silence.

‘No one is going to tell the police anything. We made a pact never to tell anyone and we are sticking to it.’

‘So what the fuck is your plan, Fern?’ Howard wasn’t liking this one bit. If they went to the police, confessed, he was certain that after all this time they would get away with just a slap on the wrists. By continuing to keep this twisted little secret, he was being further embroiled with Fern St Clair and Janice Plum.

‘We sort this problem ourselves,’ she told him smoothly.

‘And how exactly do you intend to do that?’

‘For starters, we need to find Rachel, find out if she is being targeted too.’

‘I can help with that,’ Janice offered.

‘I already looked for her on Facebook.’

‘Well let me try and find her. I’m pretty good at tracking people down.’

Yes, you look like the stalker type, Howard decided.

‘Okay, you do that,’ Fern agreed, before turning to Howard.

His heart sank. God, she was going to ask him to get involved in her Miss Marple adventures. He cut her off before she could speak, smiling sweetly. ‘I don’t really have time to help out, so perhaps you can just drop me an email and keep me updated.’

‘You were still in touch with Gary, right?’

‘Barely,’ he lied. ‘We hadn’t seen each other in months.’ Another lie. He had seen Gary in the pub a couple of weeks back.

Fern’s lips thinned. ‘He posted on Facebook the week before he died that he’d been out with you.’

Rumbled! Howard scowled. ‘So?’

‘So find out what you can. Did he have a girlfriend?’

‘He was seeing some woman. Rita, I think her name is.’

‘Talk to her. What was Gary like in the lead-up to his death? Did he receive any notes?’

‘I’ve never met the woman, Fern. How do you expect me to do that?’

She smiled, almost seductively, at him. ‘You’ll find a way. You’re a smooth operator.’

His ego stroked, he grudgingly relented. ‘I can’t make any promises.’

‘Just try.’

‘So what are you going to do then? You can’t just use Janice and me to do your dirty work.’

Fern gave him a sharp look. ‘I’m going to track down Olivia Blake.’

Janice let out a tiny gasp. ‘Olivia? Do you think she has something to do with this?’

Howard thought back to Olivia Blake. Fern’s old best friend. Slim, wide-eyed, pretty. At least she had been before the fire. He hadn’t seen her since high school.

‘I don’t know,’ Fern admitted. ‘But I think it’s time I found out.’