Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  “You start.”

  Clara spooned the ratatouille onto her plate and passed the spoon to me.

  “It looks delicious,” she said as I served myself.

  “Hope it tastes as good.”

  “I’m sure it will.” She took a mouthful and nodded. “It does,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Very good.”

  I chewed away but couldn’t really taste the food. All I could think about was where I had gone wrong. I had picked the right mushroom and put a whole mushroom in the sauce—more than enough to kill a fully grown human. It had been two days, yet she was looking healthier than ever.

  “Where shall we go next?”

  “Sorry, what?” She’d asked me a question.

  “I said, where shall we go next? I have some holiday time owed to me. I need to take it before the end of the year.”

  “Depends.” I took a sip from my glass while I thought. “What type of holiday do you want?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I drank some more wine, then wiped my lips with my napkin and sat back.

  “Well, do you want a beach holiday, a city break, or shall we go skiing again? It’s been ages since we were in the mountains.”

  “Hmmm.” She picked up the bottle and topped up my glass. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” She took another mouthful of food and chewed. “This is really very good. I’m so lucky to have a husband who can cook.”

  I didn’t say anything, just half-smiled and picked up my fork.

  “The mushroom pasta the other night was amazing, though.”

  I nodded and forked a large portion of ratatouille into my mouth.

  “Those mushrooms, what were they?”

  My eyebrow twitched, and I rubbed it with my left hand, hoping she hadn’t noticed. Swallowing, I took a sip of wine to rinse my mouth, then smiled.

  “Cremini mushrooms.”

  “Really?” She was staring at me.

  I could feel my face getting hotter. Did she know? Impossible.

  “It’s hot tonight, isn’t it?” I asked. Sweat formed on my forehead, and I dabbed it with my napkin. “Maybe I should open a window.” I picked up my wineglass and took a large gulp.

  Clara said nothing. She had leaned back in her chair and was watching me.

  I noticed a pressure in my chest and realized my heart had started beating faster. Why was I feeling so nervous? She couldn’t possibly know what I’d done.

  “I asked about the mushrooms? Cremini? What does that mean?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but words wouldn’t form. My tongue felt as if it was swollen. Reaching for my glass, my hand didn’t obey the command from my brain. I looked down at my fingers, and they were trembling. The pressure in my chest was increasing, and I could hear my heart pounding away in my temples like a drum.

  “W-W-Water...”

  Clara didn’t move.

  I concentrated on my legs, and using all my willpower, tried to stand. I got halfway, then tipped sideways, falling off the chair onto the floor. What was happening to me? My vision blurred, and I blinked my eyes clear. Clara was standing over me, her hands on her hips, her face blank.

  “H-Help me,” I croaked.

  Her face twisted, lip curling in disgust, and she shook her head.

  “The mushrooms.”

  “Wh-What?” But I knew.

  The last thing I heard was, “You couldn’t even do that properly.”

  About the Author

  Mark David Abbott was born in Cyprus but spent most of his formative years growing up in New Zealand. A love for travel has meant that he has spent much of his life living and working in different countries around the world and currently calls Hong Kong home.

  Mark has worked variously as a barman, a factory hand, supermarket shelf stocker, and a real estate salesman, but now devotes his time to writing and traveling.

  Mark is a keen runner and in between runs is slowly building an impressive collection of Gin.

  Find & Follow Mark

  Also by Mark David Abbott

  The John Hayes Series

  Vengeance: John Hayes #1

  A Million Reasons: John Hayes #2

  A New Beginning: John Hayes #3

  No Escape: John Hayes #4

  Reprisal: John Hayes #5

  Payback: John Hayes #6

  The Guru: John Hayes #7

  The John Hayes Box Sets

  The John Hayes Thrillers Boxset 1 : Books 1-3

  The John Hayes Thrillers Boxset 2: Books 4-6

  The Hong Kong Series

  Disruption: Hong Kong #1

  Conflict: Hong Kong #2

  As M D Abbott

  Once Upon A Time In Sri Lanka

  Learn More

  www.markdavidabbott.com

  PLAY REHEARSAL

  A Novel

  By

  Lucinda E. Clarke

  Contents

  Author’s Content advisory

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Also by Lucinda E Clarke

  Author’s Content advisory

  Play Rehearsal

  Language intensity

  No or mild profanity

  F word used twice – stronger profanity

  Sexuality intensity

  Possible sexual references with no details

  Slightly verbal only

  Violence intensity

  Violence but no gory details

  Mild violence – only threats - murder but off camera

  Preface

  There’s killer on the prowl targeting single women and their children. Helen brushes off any suggestion she could be a target but how safe is she? How could she protect her babies?

  1

  The loud screams from the children’s room sent Helen Flemming flying off the bed. She realised they had been playing too quietly for a suspiciously long time. She flung open the door and froze. Three-year old Jason was hanging head first out of the window, dangling ten floors up from the busy street below.

  His twin, Joanna, was shrieking and laughing, pointing to her brother’s backside as his legs flailed trying to get purchase on the wall to pull himself back in.

  Helen leaped forward, scattering an assortment of toys and nearly breaking her ankle as she trod on a fire engine, sending it spinning across the floor, siren wailing. She sent Joanna flying as she pushed her daughter out of the way, took a firm hold on Jason’s legs, and tugged.

  When she thought about it later, after downing a large vodka, it was unlikely he could have wriggled all the way through the small open space; the windows were designed not to open too far, but the twins were small for their age, and it didn’t bear thinking about.

  She gave the child a good shake, screaming at him, asking him what was he thinking, but he was unfazed. He was used to being in trouble; Joanna was the obedient one. He never obeyed his mother.

  Helen dumped him on the bed and closed and locked the window, removing the key and putting it in her pocket.

  “No, Mummy, too hot,” wailed Joanna.

  “Too bad. It stays shut. Last thing I want to do is scrape either of you off the pavement. You would die. Falling all that way would kill you. Do you understand?”

  Two pairs of eyes stared back, unconcerned. No, of course they couldn’t comprehend the dangers. Whatever had possessed Jason to lean out that far? Helen sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Just another hiccup in a desperate life.

  She stormed off into the kitchen, aware of small footsteps behind her. Coping with three-year ol
ds in a high-rise apartment block was an exhausting nightmare. How did mothers with multiple children cope? There were days when she could cheerfully heave both of them out of the window and be free to start a new life. They drained her of every bit of spare energy she had.

  “Milk, Mummy?”

  “I want a biscuit, now!” Jason’s dice with death had not destroyed his appetite. He stamped his feet on the floor and drummed his little fists on the cupboard door.

  “I don’t have any biscuits,” Helen snapped back. “It’s enough I give you three meals a day, and it’s not good to eat in between.” She leant over, putting her face close to his. “Do you want to get fat like Samuel at your day care?”

  Jason put his finger in his mouth and shook his head.

  “Then make do with a glass of milk.” She grabbed a carton from the fridge and filled the plastic cups. As she replaced it, she noted the empty shelves, and a quick look in the cupboards showed her there wasn’t much more in those either. She sighed. “Guess we’d better go to the shops. Finish your milk and go put your coats on.”

  The supermarket was crowded. Jason refused to sit in the trolley, screaming and lashing out with his legs and fists as she tried to thread his little legs through the metal framework. There was only space for one child; most women don’t give birth to two children at a time. Joanna was easier to control, but Jason wasn’t having any of it and, while his mother was reasoning with him, his twin was already scrambling up to grab the seat for herself.

  Helen gave up and the little horror raced off ahead, running his hand along all the bottles, jars and packets within reach. On two occasions, she was just in time to see him throwing unnecessary items into the trolley and, just as she replaced those on the shelves, he raced round the corner at the end of the aisle, sending three bottles of concentrated orange juice crashing onto the tiled floor.

  Fragments of glass flew in all directions, while rivers of orange liquid seeped across the aisle and under the shelving.

  An employee, her bright green apron straining over her ample breast, and cap askew, came rushing over.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” blurted Helen, close to tears.

  “Never mind, love, happens all the time. You leave it to me.”

  “Will I have to pay?” Helen was alarmed by the high price tags above the bottles.

  “You go do your shopping. Don’t give it another thought.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much.” Helen looked up to see a nervous Jason, surveying the damage he’d caused. He stared at the assistant who waved her finger at him.

  “You, stay by your mother and don’t touch anything. Understand?”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “Be a good boy and do as Mummy tells you.”

  He nodded again, deliberately ignoring Joanna sticking her tongue out at him.

  2

  While Helen was struggling up and down the aisles in the supermarket, on the other side of town her brother Graham was sitting on a plastic bench in a coffee shop sipping a latte. He was taking deep breaths, desperate to maintain his cool exterior.

  Across the table sat Edward Bean, a local businessman who had a soft spot for ambitious young men and a strong desire for fame on another’s coat tails. He had long ago given up any hope of notoriety on his own behalf, but that did not mean to say he could not fulfil this last ambition. No one was impressed by an able financier who owned a small chain of hardware stores and a timber processing plant. He yearned for the limelight.

  Edward’s first step to fame and notoriety in a more glamorous image was the purchase of an empty and rundown theatre in the centre of town. He had the money to refurbish it; he had plenty of cash left over from his EuroMillions win which had funded his current business empire. Now all that remained was to launch a sure-fire hit production to catapult his name into the news. He could already picture his name in lights over the front entrance of the theatre.

  He beamed across the table at Graham, observing how the young man could hardly contain his excitement. Fate had thrown them together for a reason; at one of those parties held by the arty set to which Edward often gate-crashed if he’d not inveigled an invite. How different would his life have been, he briefly wondered, had his family allowed him to attend drama school instead of pushing him into working at the same factory where his father was floor manager and shop steward? The lottery win had put paid to that, and he distanced himself from his parents at the earliest opportunity. It made sense to set himself up in business as a fallback. The only disappointment was that he’d been unable to buy up the company where his father worked; how satisfying to have become his dad’s boss after years of suffering the child abuse.

  Now, he was ready to take the next step and Graham was going to help him do just that. He smiled at the anxious thirty-year old sipping his coffee while attempting to keep his hands steady.

  “You understand what I’m offering you?”

  “Oh yes! Yes! How long do I have?”

  “Let’s say two months, three at the outside. Do you have a play in mind?”

  “Several, it’s a question of picking the right one. Tapping into the current trends.” Graham smiled as he took another gulp of his coffee. He was finding it difficult to stop his hands shaking.

  Edward glanced at his watch. “Quite. And the public can be fickle. I suggest a drama, a psychological thriller, the more terrifying the better. But that’s more your department than mine. I’ll leave it up to you.” He pushed his empty cup to one side and went to stand up. “Let’s say we meet back here in a week at the same time and you can show me the script?”

  It was not so much a question as a demand, and Graham could only nod as he used every ounce of will power to appear nonchalant and stop not only his hands, but his whole body from quivering. He was both elated and terrified, and he couldn’t wait to share his news.

  3

  By the time Helen had paid for the groceries, and wheeled the twins back to the flat, negotiated the downstairs entrance, piled into the lift and opened her front door, she felt like a dishrag wrung out and left to dry.

  The children flung their coats off and hurried back into their room, eager to play while she piled the bags on the counter and began to unpack and prepare lunch.

  The doorbell rang. “What now?” She sighed as she walked over to the intercom. “Who is it?”

  “Graham.” The metallic voice echoed from ten floors below.

  “Come up. You forgot your key again?” Helen pushed the button without waiting for an answer and turned the key in the lock. She walked back into the kitchen and continued cutting the sandwiches.

  The front door flew open as Graham bounced in, waving a sheaf of papers in one hand. He waltzed into the kitchen and planted a big kiss on Helen’s cheek.

  “Sis! Amazing news. I’ve made it, finally made it.”

  Helen put down the knife and sighed. “What now? Won the lottery? If so, how much? And I want half.”

  Graham grabbed a sandwich off the breadboard before Helen could stop him. “Much, much better than that.” He walked round to the other side of the hatch and leaned on the counter. “Remember that guy I told you about? The one who owns the theatre by the cathedral?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Yeah well, you don’t listen to half of what I say.”

  “Bingo. Got it in one.” Helen piled the bread on plates and called the twins. She pushed past Graham and put the sandwiches on the coffee table and switched on the television before turning back to her brother.

  “This guy, Edward, he’s an impresario, know what that is?”

  “’Course I do.”

  “He’s got a string of credits to his name and only just purchased the theatre. The great news is he’s offered it to me to put on a play. Isn’t that amazing?” He sidled round the hatchway and grabbed Helen around the waist and tried to dance with her but she shook him off.

  “Get serious Graham, what do you know about putting on a show?”

>   “Helen! You never take me seriously. This is my big break. My big chance.”

  “To do what?”

  “Put on my own play of course!”

  “I didn’t know you’d written a play. It’s drama school you went to, not an English Literature course.”

  “You always have to put me down.” He grabbed a sandwich and took bites in between his words. “We learned lots about plays, ’course we did. I thought you’d be excited for me. What do you think actors study?”

  “I don’t know. How to become trees? Or cry on cue? Don’t ask me!”

  Helen pushed past him and carried the children’s drinks and placed them by the sandwiches. She glanced at the television and then picked up the remote and turned up the sound.

  The male presenter’s face was solemn as his eyes flickered from side to side as he read the autocue.

  “There have now been three attacks, all of them fatal, in the south west area of London. The victims in every case were single mothers and their children. People are being warned to keep all windows and doors closed and remain indoors after dark.”

  The screen changed to show a police spokesman standing on the steps outside the main station.

  “We are treating this as a matter of extreme urgency, and we ask that if you have any information to share to please phone the number on the bottom of your screen. There have already been three tragic incidents and we need to apprehend this criminal before he strikes again. All the crimes have taken place in the borough of Kingston upon Thames, and we ask all residents in that area to be especially vigilant regarding any suspicious behaviour. We are appealing to everyone to report directly to your nearest police station or by phone to the number below.”