Wild Fiction

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‘This is ridiculous, but just in case it’s true, please keep an eye on how I say things.’
The author paused for a short while and thought about other words he might use in the story. Words like Rollerblade, Microsoft®, Hoover® and Western Union Money Order.
‘SM?’ Rebecca queried reading his thoughts.
‘Ah, don’t know that one do we?’ the author had a smug smile on his face. ‘It stands for Service Mark.’ The smile faded from his face and he scratched his thinning hair. ‘As I was saying,’ his voice took on an austere tone again. ‘I recognised her skating down the pavement. Skating next to her and sometimes behind her was this bloke Stephen. He’s her personal trainer at the gym. What made me suspicious though, is that when they stopped or went slowly, he moved close to her. Sometimes he was touching her and she touched him back. I half think they may be having an affair.’ The author was now looking more gloomy than solemn.
‘Well what do you want us to do about it?’ James asked.
‘I’ve created you to help me get to the bottom of what she’s up to. I’m no good at solving mysteries but you’re fictional, it’s what you do. You’ll be able to follow her and get close to her; you can befriend her and gain her confidence. Please make me a promise. Promise me that you won’t let her kill me.’
There was a short silence before Rebecca spoke. ‘I promise that we won’t let her kill you. Right fellas?’
Conrad and James looked at her. ‘Right,’ they said in unison.
‘Do you have a plan?’ Conrad asked turning to the author.
‘No,’ he said his voice was quieter, less panicked.
‘Right, where’s she now?’
‘I’m not sure. She left this morning shortly before I did.’
‘Any idea what time she’ll be back?’
‘Not before this evening, I’d imagine. She looked like she was going shopping. That means lunch with a friend followed by more shopping in the afternoon.’
‘Let’s go through your house, while she’s not there, we may be able to uncover something.’ Conrad said standing up.
‘I’ll stay here and tidy this house,’ Rebecca said.
The three men turned to her.
‘I feel uncomfortable going back to that house. The whole thing about how I found myself there - it makes me scared. That basement, it’s like going back to a prison.’

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