'What did people do in the movies to lose someone following them?' I wondered. I envisioned a big car chase and a few flipped cars culminating with me half naked shooting a gun out of the window. Bloody overactive imagination! I resolved to stop watching so many cheesy action movies. I sped up a little and turned down, watching the SUV follow me in the mirror. I exited onto the motorway. I put my foot down and sped up. So did the SUV. I started breathing harder and my palms were slick with sweat while my heart was beating so fast it reminded me of the time I tried some speed in my youth.

‘Why was someone following me? Did I owe someone money? Had my dad? ‘I pondered this darkly. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he did. My Sat-Nav was squawking at me to take the next turn off when I had a cunning plan. I sped up and the SUV sped up again. I made out as it I was going to go straight off the motorway when checking in my mirrors (safety first) I jerked the car up the slip way at the last moment. The SUV was too late to follow me. I knew whomever it was had at least ten minutes of driving down the motorway before they could turn off. I sped up and got to Molly Malone’s house without any problem looking around for the SUV. Breathing hard, trembling slightly I stumbled out the car. The adrenaline chose that moment to emerge, hitting me straight in my gut. I felt sick, slightly turned on and glad to be alive. I was dying for a drink.

“Calm, the fuck down, Lucy!” I muttered to myself. An old lady approaching took one startled look at me and crossed the road to avoid me muttering about mental health patients. I began to laugh hysterically at this and she sped up as much as an octogenarian with a Zimmer frame could. That struck me as even more hilarious and I started crying with laughter. I felt that cold feeling in my stomach start to unfurl, dispelling the adrenaline and fright. I was safe. I shook my head and walked up to the little bungalow. I would have thought Veronica Maxwell’s friends would be the Wag type. The house threw me. I knocked slightly and gaped as the sweetest looking old lady opened the door.

“Is Molly Malone here?” I asked and she laughed merrily her grey bobbed hair moving around wildly. Maybe I should become a freaken comedian? How many more people would laugh at me before this day was finished? I started grinning then too as my sense of humour caught up with me again and thrust my hand out.

“Lucy Bilkins, Mrs Malone,’ I introduced myself. She was petite, slender, grey haired woman with blue twinkling eyes, a white t-shirt, grey Capri pants and a cardigan.

‘Hello pet," she said, her northern accent filled with laughter. She moved me into her house and we sat down. When she offered me tea I jumped at the chance. All the tailing cars, fighting with Mac and all the other strange happenings had made me thirsty. She handed me my tea and I started right in.

“Do you mind if I use this?” I motioned at the voice recorder. She smiled nodded her head affirmatively and I switched it on.

“You’re wondering how Veronica and I became friends, aren’t you, pet?“ she asked smiling. I nodded in agreement and she continued. “I’m a widow. My husband died two years ago. My children have all left home. Anyways my son knew I was lonely so he bought me a gym membership at Westerfield Gym. At first I was irritated at him, but I decided to get out of the house one day and went in. I was too scared to try the machines so I went into a Pilate’s class. I fell in love with it. So every Monday I went to the class. It was always the same people and Ronnie certainly stuck out." She smiled then obviously remembering her fondly.

“I sat there drinking a latte one day after my shower and she was sitting there looking so lonely. I went over and started chatting to her. We became friends...Unlikely ones,” she said the last bit self depreciatingly and carried on, “Only on Mondays, We’d do Pilates in the morning, have a healthy brunch then go shopping. Well she would shop, I would watch her,” she said smiling again.

“Did she speak about her personal life, Mrs Malone?” I asked and immediately followed up with. “Did she give an indication that she was unhappy with her husband?” she snorted then.

“She hated Max. I sort of got the feeling she had been forced into the marriage.” I stayed quiet hoping she’d carry on and she did. I hid a grin. See world I can be quiet if I want to.

“She was having an affair with someone who was married. She wouldn’t say who he was but it was obvious. I once asked her why she never worked because I think she would have been great in a little boutique of some sort. She said ‘Himself’ would never allow it. She had to be ready for whenever he called her. She wasn’t talking about Max though. I tried many times to get that out of her but she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Was Max aware of the affair?“ I asked.

“Aware?” she laughed again and carried on, “He definitely knew about it. I would go as far as saying he encouraged her to do it.” I tried not to get annoyed but vowed to pay Max a visit the next day. What was that bloody git thinking by hiding something so important from me?

“Do you think she ran off with her lover?” I asked.

“No, pet...She once told me he would never leave his wife. Even if she did...” she paused and carried on, “She would have told me. I just presume she is in some Spanish city drinking Sangria and surrounded by handsome men”

When I mentioned the other three names she smiled. “I know that Jason Creedy. He works as a personal trainer at the Westerfield gym.” I wanted to hug or at the very least adopt her but decide not to scare the lovely old Northern lady with my enthusiasm We chatted some more about general things and I looked out at the darkening sky, realising I had been here for a few hours. I bade her goodbye and promised to keep her in touch. As I left there was no sign of the SUV or any other cars.

Tuesday

I woke up the next morning stiff on my couch in my pyjamas shivering slightly. My evening had consisted of a run at the gym, a can of vegetable soup, a shower and desultory attempt to watch some TV. There was a drool patch on my couch and my face had the lines from the couch cushions imprinted on them. My social life needed some working on. I vowed to give Sherry, my best friend a call and arrange a night out sometime during the week. It had been a while since I had been laid too. My life wasn’t ‘Sex and the city” enough to have someone to pay a booty call to at the moment. I suspect that was a big reason I found Mac attractive.

I walked into the office a forty five minutes later all refreshed and in a pretty good mood. I had made some progress on my case, lost the ominous SUV with a stroke of genius (I was exaggerating my genius as every minute passed). I waved and smiled at the guys who greeted me back. I could tell they were surprised by my good mood. The dinosaurs started teasing me about getting laid. I started wise cracking them about penis sizes and real men. I had learnt to survive in this place you needed to stand up for yourself. I walked into my office jauntily as I had got in the last insult (something involving an STD clinic appointment) and closed the door with the biggest grin on my face. I sat down typing up my findings on my laptop and called the gym to book an appointment with Jason Creedy under the guise of joining their gym. I had to book something in the afternoon as he was booked all day. My ability to lie well isn’t something I’m proud of but It was a necessary evil within the particular field of IT I used to be involved in. Maxwell’s number rang for ages before going through to voicemail. I left an urgent for him to call me.

Mac walked in then without bothering to knock. He was looking a little dishevelled and his shirt, the same one from yesterday was crumpled. I grinned and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously in my direction.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” he asked.

I smiled affectionately and filled him in on my progress of my case. He looked at me thoughtfully and nodded. I turned away dismissing him and I could tell he didn’t like that. I hid my grin and carried on typing my report and started humming off key. He left quickly after that before I started singing. My singing voice would be classified as tone deaf with overtones of mating cat. I’d be one of those losers on those musical reality shows who got put on the internet for being a bad singer. It didn’t put me off. It just made me want to sing more just to mess around with people. My neighbour had once called the cops on me when I sang along to the Mamma Mia soundtrack during a drunken post break-up evening. I woke up with a red wine stain on the rug (and on my pyjamas); a hangover from hell and a fine for drunk and disorderly conduct.

One of the officers who had arrived at the scene was an old friend of my father. He had called me up the next morning laughing his head off regaling me with my behaviour .Apparently I had asked him to marry him and when he refused had threatened to jump out of my ground floor window flat, Told him I was going to die alone and had dropped my drink all over the lounge before passing out on the spot. He dropped the drunk and disorderly charge but I had not drunk red wine since. Well for that reason and because the next day I did an exorcist type projectile vomiting thing all over my bathroom. It wasn’t pretty. The smell of red wine still makes me shudder.

I took off just before noon and arrived at Westerfield gym in my best gym kit. It looked just like every other gym I’d be in, designed in bright shiny colours with an aesthetic modern feel. It was packed full of beautiful people trying to exercise during their lunch break. I sat down in the break area and waited while as the receptionist, a perky blonde with a toned body and a chirpy personality called him over the intercom. I started my recorder. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world. It’s a trait I’m trying to improve on. I was so caught up in my internal dialogue that I never noticed Jason Creedy until he was standing in front of me and cleared his throat.

I honest to goodness gaped at the vision of male beauty in front of me. He was tall, dark haired, blue eyed with a perfectly muscled body encased in a gym kit bearing the Westerfield Logo. As I stared (leered) at him I noticed that his beauty was too perfect. His teeth were too white. He was too well groomed with skin that shone beautifully from expensive male moisturising products. I suspected his eyebrows were plucked and there was not a sign of any stubble in sight. He smiled at me charmingly but I was immune. I liked my men a bit rugged and rough.

“Ready for your trial?” he asked and as soon as he spoke I realised he was gay. His voice wasn’t camp but he was staring at a male gym member’s ass to the left of me.

“I really wanted to ask you about Ronnie Jackson,” I said and watched a shadow pass his face. “The receptionist wouldn’t give me your direct number.”

He laughed then and said, “Honey, you’ll have to do a bit of a work out. They’ll get mad. They want me to be on the job all the time.” He winked exaggeratedly and I giggled then. He motioned me into the gym which contained cardio machines; weight machines a free weight corner. I surreptitiously checked out a few of the hotter sweaty men working out. So did he!

Forty five minutes later I was sweating and out of breath and ready to die. I might be fit and run but he’d made me do things....Evil things. Well - Squats, push ups and crunches. My body was curling around itself protectively. To add insult to injury he refused to tell me about Ronnie during this prolonged torture session.

“I break in an hour. You can buy me some lunch.” He smiled at me and I felt like punching him in the nuts...hard. I doubted my body would have let me at that moment without going into a seizure. He named a restaurant near the gym. I walked slowly and gingerly to the showers and took my time.

‘That bloody restaurant better bloody sell meat’ I thought mutinously and decided to expense it to my client. The restaurant was a health food one which was a bit upmarket. I sat down and ordered a huge glass of diet coke and waited for Herr Personal Trainer to enter. He did and I saw most of the women and a few of the men turn to check him out. He sat down with a smile but I refused to me moved. I’d seen his tyrannical side in the gym. We ordered food and I decided on a rump steak, chips and salad. He ordered some kind of uber healthy fish of and salad and a bottled water.

I put my recorder on and said, “Tell me about your relationship with Ronnie.”

“I was her personal trainer,” he said looking around at the other diners and continued with, “She wanted to keep in perfect physical condition.”

“Did she mention her personal life?” I asked.

“She just seemed lonely. Liked talking to me...I felt a bit sorry for her,” he said a little sadly.

‘Oh this was going well’ I thought sarcastically. 'At least my steak was nice and rare’ I thought watching the waitress bring our food and drinks.

“Did she mention any names of people?” I asked.

“No,” he said as I stared at him and he must have noticed the growing anger at his time wasting in my eyes because he added smiling, ”But something weird happened once.”

“What?” I asked impatiently in a loud tone and then lowered my voice at the looks I was getting from fellow diners. His face took on an animated slant. I started eating my steak before I did something drastic like jab his hand with my fork. I was tired, sore and irritable and he had tricked me into paying out £15 for a piece of fish and some salad leaves. All I wanted was a nice long bath and a bottle of beer. I might have my bottle of beer in the bath tonight. ‘Hmmmm bubble bath and beer...bubbly beer. I could almost....’

“Wait start again!“ I ordered him suddenly. My momentary beer-bath fantasy had made me miss the beginning of his story. He rolled his eyes and I jammed more steak in my mouth to prevent the insults that were dying to come out.

“So anyway...I had to do a session at Ronnie’s house one day as she couldn’t make it to the gym. I was busy stretching her out at the end when this guy walked in. He was kind of big.” He gestured out the height and shoulders with his hands animatedly. I figured if the 6 ft something muscled gym instructor said the guy was big, then he must have been huge!

“Anyways he picked me up by the scruff of my shirt until my feet weren’t touching the floor and I have never been so scared in my life....Ronnie jumped up and told the giant that I was gay and she would never betray Tony.” He was getting animated now and I couldn’t believe my gaydar hadn’t picked him up quicker.

‘BINGO! A name’ I thought excitedly...My day was turning around. I listened intently as he continued, “And the giant puts me down and tells me to fuck off. I look at Ronnie and she gestures for me to go. So I left....I asked her about him afterwards but she just blushed and changed the .subject. I never did another home visit again, too much drama.”

“Did she give you a surname for this Tony guy?" I asked.

“No, she refused to talk about it and I didn’t push her,” he said.

“Did he look like some kind of employee or a family member for this Tony guy?” I asked.

He lowered his voice. “I thought he might have been a lieutenant.”

“A cop?” I asked sharply.

He laughed then and said, “No, like lieutenant...as in Godfather.” I rolled my eyes at him while thinking derisively about Godfather references. Why do all blokes presume you’ve watched any of them? We both dropped the subject then as if articulating it aloud had made it seem as ridiculous as it sounded. My mood had brightened up and I ate the rest of my food while listening to him natter on about health eating and exercise. I didn’t add a lot just nodded and said hmmm a lot. He didn’t care if I was contributing or not but obviously enjoyed having a live audience. I paid the bill.

“Look, if you think of anything just give me a ring.” I handed him my business card. It contained the name of the Detective Agency, Bradford and Bilkins Ltd with my name and number on it. I decided to try ring Maxwell Jackson again. I needed to speak to him desperately. This whole business sounded odd and slightly shady with the potential Mafioso, henchmen and Black SUVs.

The douche finally answered in a harried voice and when I tried to get a bit of time to talk he refused and told me loftily “I’m busy, over after closing, around 9pm. Don’t be late!” he put the phone down on me and left me listening to the dial tone in annoyance..It was already late afternoon so I called Mac and told him I was going to leave early as I had an appointment in the night. Look like I wasn’t going to have that darn beer in the bath after all.

The rest of the day was peaceful with a nice long bath sans beer, a few hours of uninterrupted ‘CSI: Las Vegas’ watching and a Chinese take away. I was nice and relaxed on the couch and realised that I had to meet ‘the douche who paid me’ (this was my new nickname for him). I was running late because his fast food place was surrounded by night time resident only parking. After a ten minute drive around, I finally found a parking spot about 10 minutes away from the shop. I ran the rest of the way and entered his shop twenty minutes late.

“I told you not to be late," he hissed and my temper started rising. I breathed slowly trying not to scream at him. This day had been stressful in parts and his attitude was not helping.

“I had to find parking and-” I started saying but he stopped me with a hand in my face. I was so surprised at his chutzpah that I didn’t break it.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he said. ”I organised to meet someone after you and...” he stopped as car lights lit the back of the kitchen. He grabbed my hand and threw me in a utility cupboard.

“I have no time to explain. Don’t move from here!” he ordered. I was about to argue with him when my curiosity won over. I left the cupboard door ajar slightly. I could see a sliver of light from his office down the kitchen. A door slammed and I could hear muffled voices. I wanted to go closer but that funny feeling gripped me again. Instinct was telling me to stay in the cupboard. It warred with curiosity for a while but ultimately it won. I stared intently through the tiny crack in the cupboard door and instinctively closed the cupboard door.

A moment later I only just stopped myself from screaming when the office door was flung open. Someone (I presumed it was Maxell Jackson – I couldn’t see a thing and could only hear them) stumbled out yelling for help. I heard a big bang, then a weird groan and put my hand over my mouth. And pushed myself back further into the cupboard for some reason in my panic believing this would save me. I heard another large bang and I knew that whomever he was speaking to had shot him again. Then there was deathly silence and a slow click of someone’s footsteps walking up and down the kitchen. Cold sweat poured over my body, I was hyperventilating into my hand. A shadow passed by and I stopped breathing for a while until I heard footsteps recede out of the kitchen through the office. A slam of the outer door released me. I pulled out my mobile from my jean pocket and started to dial 999. '

'Why hadn’t I done that before' I thought feeling cold and numb. When they agreed to send someone straight away I moved out of the cupboard.

Maxell Jackson was on the floor face down in a pool of his blood. He had a big hole in his head and I could see blood splatter and what I presume was his brain all over the kitchen counters. The killer had shot him from behind. I felt sick but I knew from CSI that if I got sick it could contaminate any evidence. I don’t know how long I stood there. The world was spinning around me .I sat down in the open cupboard and waited for the cops to arrive hugging my knees to my chest.

To be continued...