Stuart James - Apartment 6

His phone beeped, alerting him to a message. Oliver glanced at the screen. It was Meagan. She had nothing on him now and no way to prove where the body was.

He stood, took a sip of his coffee then moved outside to the doorway where he read the message in private.

Oliver. It’s me. You need to help me; I’m desperate. You need to finish what you started.

He suddenly felt sick, tired of her games, worn out. He had to call her, however much it went against his better judgement, however it made him feel. He needed to speak with her and sort it once and for all.

He dialled the number and Meagan answered almost instantly. ‘Hello.’ There was a slight optimism in her voice.

‘Meagan. It’s Oliver.’

‘Hey, Oliver. Thanks for calling. How are you?’ She sounded tired, as if she’d just woken.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ he hissed.

There was a brief pause. Oliver heard her sigh, then she spoke softly. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Oliver.’

‘Don’t play fucking games. The picture you sent of the trunk, trying to blackmail me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s as much your fault as it is mine, you hear? If I go down, you’ll come with me; I’ll make sure of it, Meagan.’

‘Oliver, I opened up to you, I confided and put my trust in you. I thought you wanted to be with me, make a life together. I don’t know any other way to make you finish this.’ Meagan waited for a second; she was sniffing, sounding like a little child. ‘I had to send the picture, I couldn’t think of any other way to make you listen. I had to get your attention. I’m risking being caught, and I’m aware I’m as much a part of it as you are. So you see, you need to finish what you started. We can have a life together.’

‘You’re nuts, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re off your fucking trolley. Let me make this clear, Meagan, because I don’t think you’re getting it. We will never be together. I’ve had it with you. The body is gone. It’s off my hands. Do you hear me? Gone, Meagan!’

Oliver suddenly realised what he’d said, instantly regretting letting Meagan know he’d moved the body. He waited, hoping the forceful tone of his assertions had finally sunk in, made her listen and understand.

‘Why don’t you come over tonight? Rob should be out. We can talk.’

Oliver paused, working out what to say. ‘Meagan. I can’t say it any more clearly. We’re over.’

‘Oliver. I’m scared. I have no one to turn to, no one. I thought Rob had changed. In the last week he started treating me differently, looking at me, really noticing me, interested. He brought me out, treated me like a lady, but it didn’t last long. He’s going to kill me, Oliver. The guy has been back, looking for his partner, making threats at the door. He attacked Rob. He knocked again last night while Rob was out.’ She screamed, ‘I need help!’

Oliver waited, soaking up the words Meagan had said. ‘Don’t answer the door. When he comes, pretend you’re not home.’

‘He’s coming back, Oliver. He thumped on the door last night, he stayed for ages. He’s coming back, and I don’t know what to do.’

‘Meagan, pull yourself together. Listen, how do you know he’ll be back? It’s possible he’s knocking at everyone’s door, did you think about that?’

‘No. He saw us; he knows something isn’t right. He’s going to kill me, Oliver.’

As Oliver listened, thinking what to do, he heard Meagan’s buzzer. He pulled the phone from his ear. He listened to Meagan lifting the handset, her shaky voice.

‘Hello. No. I don’t know anyone by that name. Well, I’m sorry, leave it downstairs. No, I’m not pushing the buzzer. You’ll have to take the parcel away, I’m afraid.’

Meagan replaced the receiver, and the buzzer rang again, longer this time. Meagan tried to speak over the loud vibration.

Suddenly it stopped.

‘Oliver, I’m so scared. I think it was him. He’s onto us. What if he knows?’

‘Meagan, calm down. You don’t know that for sure.’

‘Oliver. Can you come over?’

Oliver screamed, ‘I told you for fuck’s sake! No. I’m not doing this anymore, you hear? I’m done. Don’t call me again.’

‘Then you leave me no choice.’ Her voice was raised, louder than he’d heard her talk before.

The phone went dead.

Oliver looked at the screen, struggling to make out what Meagan had meant. You leave me no choice. What the heck was that about? You leave me no choice. It wasn’t as much a threat as total desperation.

He stood outside the lodge for several minutes, dissecting the conversation. As Oliver went to close the phone, a JPEG arrived.

He pressed the square with his right thumb, and a second later, the image appeared.

Oliver eyed the picture, widening it with his thumbs to see more clearly.

There was a note pinned to a door. He could make out the words: Oliver Simmonds at the top. Underneath, an address on the Kings Road. His address. There was a picture – a still from the video of Oliver placing gloved-man into the water.

Meagan had pinned the A4 page to the front door of apartment seven.

Oliver gasped, more of a desperate groan as he listened to himself cry out. The echo of his voice was penetrating through the fields close by.

His heart raced, nausea causing a feeling like his head was swelling, like a pumped-up balloon about to explode, with his brains spilling over the path where he stood. He stepped backwards, gripping a handrail, gasping for breath.

He went quickly towards the lodge, making his way into the breakfast area, and took his coat. His food had been placed on the table; the works, a full English breakfast.

The waitress looked across as she moved away from the table. ‘Can I get you anything else?’

‘The bill, I need the bill.’

She straightened her name badge, looking awkward. ‘Is it not to your liking? I can bring–?’

Oliver cut into her speech mid-sentence. ‘You don’t understand. I need to leave.’

‘Are you okay, sir? Can I help in any way?’

‘Just get the bill.’ Oliver raised his voice. ‘Please. I have to go.’

‘Certainly, sir. Come this way.’

Oliver followed behind as the waitress led him to the foyer. Margaret was talking on the phone, unaware they were standing next to her.

‘That’s all booked then. Two nights for a family lodge. Fine, looking forward to seeing you all.’

Oliver motioned to the waitress, tapping the watch on his wrist, mouthing for the bill, forcing a sense of urgency. He listened to Margaret, still deep in conversation. ‘Oh, there’s loads to do, wait, let me get a brochure, bear with me.’

‘For fuck’s sake. Here, this will cover it.’ Oliver dropped a twenty-pound note on the counter and raced out through the front door.

A minute later, he pushed his car into reverse, jabbed the accelerator and swung onto the country lane. He drove at a fast, steady pace. Although desperate to get home, he couldn’t draw attention to himself, so it was too dangerous to speed. He eyed his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and he wiped at them with his fist.

He ferociously shouted at the screen, calling Meagan. It went straight to voicemail. He tried Claire, again leaving a message, trying to keep calm. ‘Claire. Hi, it’s me, Oliver. Just wondered if you got my message earlier? Call me back.’

His head raced with the events of the past week. How could Meagan ask this of him now, knowing what they’d done?

Why is she doing this now? Oliver pictured the A4 sheet hanging on the door of apartment seven. He tried desperately not to imagine what would happen if it was found, with his details on display like a card placed in the window of a shop.