Stranger Things Have Happened: An Adrien English Write Your Own Damn Story (The Adrien English Mysteries) (15 page)

So that’s that. Not that I want to judge anyone’s choices, but you probably should have gone to dinner with Bruce.

__________

If you choose to return to the main storyline, click here

Or if you’re feeling lucky, just turn to a random page

If you choose to get together with Bruce, click here

W
HY ARE YOU ALWAYS CHOOSING TO GET TOGETHER WITH BRUCE?

That’s the question you should be asking yourself.

Personally, I think getting together with Bruce again is just kind of boring. How about a three-way with Kit Holmes and J.X. Moriarity instead?

Yeah, I thought you’d like that.

PSYCH.

Unfortunately Kit Holmes is pretty adamant that he will not be part of any threesome. He’s still struggling with the idea of being part of a twosome.

__________

My best suggestion? Click here

Or you could always return to the safety of over here

“W
here have you been all day? Why didn’t you call?” Bruce demands first thing, which is not an auspicious opening.

You bring Bruce up to speed as much as you can — in other words, you totally lie to him about what you’ve been doing all day.

“Let me come over.”

“Not tonight.” You try to soften it. “I’m going to have an early night.”

Bruce doesn’t take rejection well. “Why don’t you just say what you mean?”

“I’m trying to,” you say. This is why you don’t date a lot.

Bruce keeps on. “If I was the right person, you wouldn’t want time or space. You’d want to be with me like I want to be with you.”

He’s probably right. “Bruce, don’t back me into a corner. It’s just one night.”

“That’s what you think.”

Self-fulfilling prophecy, but you’re too tactful to point that out. To your relief, Bruce hangs up on you and you spend the evening getting — surprise! — sloshed.

When you wake from your drunken stupor a couple of hours later, it’s to the jingle jangle of another of those heavy breathing anonymous phone calls you’ve been getting lately.

“Adrien…”
A hoarse whisper that, despite common sense, starts your heart stuttering and stammering in your chest. “Adrien. I’m going to kill you.”

The caller hangs up.

You dial *69. The phone rings and rings and then…

“Hello?” Bruce asks doubtfully.

You hang up.

__________

If you choose to call Detective Riordan, click here

If you choose to — CRAP!!! THE PHONE IS RINGING AGAIN!!! Click here!

T
he phone is still ringing.

Your hand reaches out and you pick up the handset. You listen.

Silence.

“Bruce?” you whisper.

“Adrien?”
Bruce says at once.

You know he’s working through the last five minutes, wondering whether you know the truth, wondering how you could possibly
not
know the truth…

But the one thing you have going in your favor is the fact that Bruce wants to believe with all his heart that you really don’t have a clue. You just have to play along and he’ll do all the heavy lifting.

Or so you hope.

You falter, “I-I hoped it was you. You’re right. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

You can hear the confusion and wariness in his silence. He says finally, “What’s happened?”

You babble some ridiculous story only a lunatic would believe. Oh right. Target audience.

“I’m on my way.”

You call Riordan at work and then you call him at his home number. You leave a message. “It’s Adrien English,” you say. “My friend Bruce just called. Bruce Green, the reporter. I think he may have…may be…” Yeah, no wonder you’re a writer. You have such a way with words. “I’m going over to his house. Unless I hear from you first.” You don’t remember the house address, but you tell Riordan the street and what the house looked like. “It’s nine-thirty.”

You forget to mention that Bruce is on his way to the bookstore, but maybe that’s a good reason for you high-tailing it out of there because otherwise this is NOT a good adventure to choose.

But you’ve been dating Bruce, you feel like you owe him this.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

__________

If you really do choose to go to Bruce’s house, click here

If you change your mind and decide to wait at the bookstore for Bruce and/or Riordan, click here

B
ruce’s house is dark but the porch light shines welcomingly as you walk up the front drive. You unlatch the side gate and sneak around the back.

You take out your pocket knife and start prying at the screen fastenings of Bruce’s bedroom window. This would probably be a dream come true for him if he was home, but he’s not. He’s probably knocking on your front door right now, so you’d better hurry the hell up before he figures out what’s going on.

You’re lifting the screen out of the frame when a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Before you can scream — er, shout in a manly fashion — for help, another hand clamps over your mouth. You struggle, and then a familiar voice hisses, “Knock it off!”

Luckily, it’s Riordan-familiar and not Bruce-familiar.

A few moments of disheartening, but not unexpected, misunderstanding occur. Riordan thinks your actions seem kinda suspicion, all things considered. Finally, you manage to convince him that you’re merely nuts (and a little drunk), not homicidal.

You share your suspicions of Bruce.

Riordan is ahead of you this time. “This is where Grant Landis lived growing up. This is the house he supposedly died in.”

“Supposedly?”

“Landis isn’t dead. There’s no death certificate.”

“But…” You’re very much afraid you know what’s coming.

“Bruce
is
Landis. Until six years ago, Bruce Green didn’t exist. No DMV records, no TRW report — there’s no trace of him before that.” Riordan grabs you and hauls you toward the side gate. That grip is going to leave bruises. “I asked you to stay out of it. I specifically told you. What do I have to do? Arrest you?”

“Anything to get me in handcuffs?”

Probably not the time, but yeah, there’s something going on between you two.

You agree to go swear out a complaint against Green, which is probably Riordan’s way of getting you safely into police custody, and you start back for your car.

You’re too late. Bruce is pulling up just as you’re crossing the street.

__________

If you choose to run for your car, click here

If you choose to stop and talk to Bruce, click here

R
eally?

The End

Y
ou phone Detective Riordan at police headquarters, or whatever it’s properly called, but you’re told he’s left for the day.

You didn’t really think just because a psychopath is planning your imminent grisly murder, Riordan was working on your case 24/7, did you? He needs his dinner! He needs time to take red-headed girls on dates!

You try the other phone numbers he left when he called the night you and Bruce went to dinner another lifetime ago. Riordan doesn’t pick up, though there is an answering machine on at what is presumably his home number.

It’s not really an easy situation to describe on a few seconds of tape, so you hang up without leaving a message. After all, just because Bruce is stalking you and leaving creepy messages it doesn’t automatically mean he’s a murderer. He might just be…well…emotionally arrested. He might be disturbed. Who isn’t these days? It needn’t follow that he’s dangerous.

Come to think of it, this is why you’re hesitant to get romantically involved again. There’s nothing like love to drive otherwise normal people to acts of madness.

You replace the receiver and pace up and down your living room. The phone begins to ring again.

__________

If you choose to answer the phone, click here

If you choose to flee into the night, click here

N
aturally, you’re a nervous wreck while you wait for Bruce — or Riordan — to show up. Mostly because the chances of Riordan showing up seem pretty slim, and the chances of Bruce showing up seem all too likely.

Should you call the police again? It’s going to be embarrassing, but isn’t that better than being dead?

The problem is, you don’t know for sure that Bruce
is
a killer. It’s still pretty hard to believe. And it’s already hurtful enough to break up with someone without accusing them of being a serial killer.

You’re still undecided, still pacing up and down the bookshop floor, when Bruce arrives. He knocks on the glass door at the front entrance, and you let him in.

He tries to take you in his arms, not seeming to notice that you’re stiff as a board in his arms. “I’m glad you called me,” he says.

“I’m glad you came,” you lie.

“Did something happen?” He’s watching you with an almost eager light in his eyes.

Is it possible he
wants
a confrontation? You just don’t know. You don’t
want
to know, that’s the truth.

“I think I’m being stalked,” you tell him.

He continues to watch you in that odd, alert way. “Oh?” he says finally.

You nod.

“By who?” he asks eventually, when you don’t offer further information.

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come.

Observing your struggle, Bruce suddenly smiles. It’s a horrible smile because he isn’t Bruce anymore. He’s a stranger. He’s the man who killed Robert and Claude and is going to do his best to kill you.

“That didn’t take you as long as I expected,” he remarks and lunges for you.

You dodge him, ducking behind the nearest bookshelf. The shop is a rabbit warren of tall shelves and you know the floor plan well. You move quietly down the aisles, watching and listening for Bruce.

You have three potential escape routes: the stairs to your apartment, the front entrance, which you left unlocked in case Riordan does show up, and the side door which is locked — but it won’t take long to throw a deadbolt.

The side door leaves you out in a deserted alley and the front door leaves you out on the deserted sidewalk of a part of town which is closed up at this time of night. Your instinct is to head for the safety of your own living quarters, but not only does it sound like Bruce is lurking in that general area — probably guessing the direction of your thoughts — if you get cornered upstairs, you’re out of options.

No wait. There’s a fourth option. If you can get into your office, you can lock the door and use the phone there to call the police. You can even use some of the storage boxes and shelves to barricade yourself in.

You wait, listening. You stay absolutely motionless, barely breathing. When you hear a book fall over to your left, you make a dash for your office.

Too late, you realize Bruce is smarter than you thought. He must have picked up a paperback from the sales counter and thrown it to make you think he was coming up on your left. In fact, he’s standing in front of you, blocking your access to the office.

You veer right and run for the staircase. You’re four steps up before he grabs you and throws you bodily down the stairway. You crash-land on your back, winded and stunned. Bruce looms over you and you see he’s holding a huge hunting knife. Has he been carrying that the whole time?

You roll away, knowing it’s too late.

But no. A sudden commotion — someone is blowing a whistle at the top of their lungs, the shrill sound filling the night — and rescue comes from out of left field. An elderly man is beating Bruce with a poker — your poker — and a woman with dark, frizzy hair is wailing away at Bruce with her shoulder bag while still blowing frantically on her whistle.

You crawl out of range, scramble to your feet, steadying yourself on the wooden counter. Your saviors have knocked Bruce to his knees. He drops his knife and covers his head. You retrieve the knife. You manage to stop the elderly man and dark-haired woman from killing Bruce.

You tie Bruce up and the three of you wait for the police.

It turns out that the elderly man is Henry Harrison, the very same old guy who turned up with that bus tour the morning after Robert was murdered. You found him snooping around your living room, remember? The woman is named Janet Blimes. She’s Henry’s neighbor. That’s their story anyway.

Henry and Janet reveal that they’ve been hunting for something called The Cross of Rouen which they believe is hidden somewhere in the bookstore.

It’s a little convoluted, to say the least, but the important thing is, thanks to their attempt to break into your place of business, Henry and Janet saved your life.

By the time Riordan and the police show up, you and Henry and Janet are on your second brandies and well on your way to becoming lifelong friends. They even promise to cut you in on the reward if you help them find the lost artifact.

The End

“G
o home, Adrien-with-an-e,” Riordan says softly. His breath is warm against your face, and scented of spearmint. “Go home before you get into real trouble.”

“Trouble is my business,” you say. An idiotic comment, unless you’re Philip Marlowe, but then this whole setup is so artificial, so stagy. Except Riordan. Riordan is the real deal.

“Is that so?” He’s got a little growl in his voice which is sort of alarming and sort of a turn-on all at the same time. He bumps your face with his. You step back and he does it again, crowding in on you until your back is against the door.

“This is a good way to lose an antler,” you say, and then you’re out of words — and breath — because his lips are parting yours, and his tongue is insinuating its way into your mouth before you can say French kiss. Or even
Mon Dieu
!