Run Beautiful Run, page 1
RUN
BEAUTIFUL
RUN
HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO
TO KEEP A PROMISE?
MEL A ROWE
Also by Mel A ROWE
Australian Bestselling ELSIE CREEK SERIES:
The ART of DUST
DIAMOND in the DUST
CAKED in DUST
XMAS DUST
MUSTER in the DUST
ROLLED in DUST
WRITTEN in DUST
Standalone Stories:
Avoiding the Pity Party
Unplanned Party
The Football Whisperer
USA Bestseller—Winter’s Walk
Run Beautiful Run
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COPYRIGHT
RUN BEAUTIFUL RUN is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events, and incidents, other than those clearly in the public domain, are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Printing by R&R Ramblings House 2022
Copyright © Mel A. Rowe 2022
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by person or entity (including Google, Amazon, or other similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, scanning or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
E-Book ISBN: 978-0-6455538-4-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-6455538-5-7
**Caveat: As a courtesy, since there may be some sparse language choices in this story that may represent an obstacle for the reader, I am offering this warning. Please note this language and cultural references are purely for fictional purposes only and not designed to offend any individual persons, culture, or religions implied.
*The Following Is Written in Australian English*
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright
Map
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Fifty-two
Fifty-three
Fifty-four
Fifty-five
Fifty-six
Fifty-seven
Fifty-eight
Fifty-nine
Sixty
Sixty-one
Sixty-two
Sixty-three
Sixty-four
Sixty-five
Sixty-six
Sixty-seven
Sixty-eight
Sixty-nine
Seventy
Seventy-one
Seventy-two
Seventy-three
Seventy-four
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Further Reading
“The most important person to
keep your promises to,
is yourself.”
Anonymous
One
MELBOURNE, VICTORIA
‘How does the white rabbit get away with I’m late! I’m late! — because I’m freaking late again.’ Maddison ran across the road as seagulls glided on the sea breeze that carried the deep-throated horn blast of a freighter docking at the wharves.
She pushed on the glass doors to Lou’s Sports Bar and darted behind the bar. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Been diving again, have we, Maddison?’ Wearing his permanent scowl, Laurie tapped on his watch face. ‘And today’s excuse is …’
‘The boat was late because the tourists kept wanting to extend their scuba diving adventure on the wreck. I don’t know why they bothered; the water was that murky this morning.’ She tossed her loose plait off her shoulder dampening her shirt’s collar, then tightened the straps on her black work apron. ‘When you take up my offer for those free diving lessons, I’ll make sure it’s clear with the tides.’
‘If man was meant to swim underwater, we’d be waving around webbed fingers and toes.’ He then sighed. ‘Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘I’m supposed to be giving you a lecture on being late, again.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Maddison gave what she hoped was her best suck-up smile yet. ‘You know I’m good for it.’
‘Get to work. I’ll be out the back.’
‘Will do, boss.’ She got busy behind the bar, where time flew, serving a steady stream of customers.
‘There she is,’ said Paul, a junior detective, strolling in through the front doors with his partner. ‘I’ve been waiting all day to ask you to have dinner with me, Maddison.’
Maddison placed a freshly poured beer on the counter in front of Paul, and hesitated. She’d taken this bar job to help grow more of a backbone, to learn to be more assertive with people, but where was Laurie when she needed him?
‘Say no, Maddy.’ Senior Detective Mick Hetter leaned against the bar, scooping up his beer. ‘You’re better than that.’
Paul sneered at his partner. ‘Are you for real?’
‘Never date a cop. The hours suck… My two ex-wives will tell you that.’
The phone behind the bar rang.
Laurie stormed out of the office. ‘Lou’s Sports Bar.’ He paused, listening to the phone cradled to his ear, as his frown deepened. ‘Yeah, who’s this?’ He waved at Maddison. ‘Hang on, I’ll get her.’
‘For me? Can’t be, no one rings me.’ And that sounded sad.
‘Well, this modern piece of annoying technology is a phone that allows people to disturb your day and mine.’
‘Is the phone for me, or am I getting another lecture?’ Maddison grinned at the sizeable man, shaking his head at her. ‘Hello?’ She asked over the phone.
‘Maddy—thank God—it’s Bob. Listen, hon, I haven’t got much time, I need a favour?’ Uncle Bob’s raspy breath wheezed with urgency. ‘Can you meet me at the train station by the casino? Please, I’m begging you.’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Um … I’ll meet you at the front entrance to explain everything. I’ll see you soon.’ Bob hung up.
‘Is everything all right, Maddison?’ Laurie asked, hovering nearby. Which was rare – she hadn’t seen her boss all shift.
‘Just Uncle Bob being Uncle Bob.’ But he didn’t sound right.
‘Does Bob need you to bail him out again?’
‘No, to meet him at the train station near the casino.’
‘Don’t tell me, Bob’s lost all his money at the casino and needs time to hide out at your place, so the bookies don’t find him?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Yesterday, two men came in here looking for Bob. Don’t worry, I told them nothing. But Maddison …’ Laurie stepped in closer and with a lowered tone, he said, ‘They were the tough henchmen variety.’
Henchmen? Who says that anymore? ‘How do you know?’
‘Trust me on that one, I’ve seen enough to know from working on the job for thirty years. Your uncle must be into something deep for those two men to walk into a known cop bar like this. I just hope Bob doesn’t drag you down with him.’
‘Uncle Bob wouldn’t do that to me. Besides, I can take care of myself.’
‘Make sure you do. Now get out of here.’
‘Thanks, I will.’ Maddison ripped off her apron and rushed out the door.
At the train station a steady stream of people flowed back and forth, accessorised with headsets and smartphones. The heady scents of coffee, train exhaust fumes, and assorted colognes were torture on the sinuses.
But Bob was a no-show.
Not the first time Bob had failed to appear, so she’d give him ten more minutes, then head home, or go back to work to make up for being late.
‘Excuse me, miss?’ A pimply-faced kid, carrying a skateboard approached. ‘Are you Maddy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your uncle told me to give you this.’ The boy held out a cardboard beer coaster.
The scribble on the back read:
Maddy,
Go to platform ten and catch the first train out.
Get off at the first stop in Croydon.
I’ll meet you there in the car park around the back.
Uncle Bob
‘Where did Bob go?’
The kid shrugged his skinny shoulders. ‘Some old guy told me to look for some lady with blonde hair, wearing a shirt that had Lou’s Sports Bar on the pocket.’ He pointed to the embroidered pocket of Maddison’s collared shirt. ‘He paid me ten bucks for it, too.’ The kid grinned wider. ‘He told me you’d give me ten bucks as a tip, once I’d done the job.’
‘How do I know you got this from Bob? What did he look like?’
‘Old guy, balding head, red face, big guts, wearing a crinkled-up suit like he’d slept in it. He looked like an old drunk to me. But he said you’d be suss and that I was to say Bob bids it—whatever that means.’ The kid then held out his hand. ‘Hey, ten bucks is ten bucks, lady. Are you gonna pay up?’
‘Bob bloody bids it,’ Maddison muttered under her breath. It was one of Uncle Bob’s favourite sayings that he’d tell her when she was young. It was also Bob’s handwriting on the beer coaster, and the kid’s unflattering description of Uncle Bob were unfortunately true.
Maddison searched the large timetable boards. With five minutes to catch the train, she handed ten dollars to the boy. ‘Thanks.’
‘Miss, no offence, but is this some secret-squirrel kind of thing?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because the old guy looked scared, sweating badly, looking over his shoulder all the time.’
Bob didn’t sound too good on the phone either. Did the bookies find him?
As a flutter of fear shifted in her stomach, tightening her ribcage, she raced down the platform, hoping she wasn’t too late.
Two
The train rattled away, leaving Maddison alone in the crisp early evening air. Her boot steps echoed along the station’s platform. A flickering light buzzed overhead, causing her shadow to flicker over the stained concrete as she followed the ramp to the dark deserted car park.
Why here? Surely Bob wouldn’t put her in any danger?
Peering into the shadows, her shoulders tightened as her heartbeat raced, reaching inside her handbag for her pepper spray.
Only to sigh with relief at the sight of Bob’s decrepit car sitting at the far end of the deserted car park with Bob slumped over in the passenger seat.
‘Bob?’ She tapped on the car window.
‘Hey, are you asleep?’ She opened the sedan’s door and Bob rolled onto the ground.
Great, drunk again.
Anger simmered in her chest at the man who weighed a tonne. ‘Come on, Bob, help me out here.’
Bob groaned, as if annoyed at her for disturbing his sleep. But when she rolled him to his back the car park’s dull lights exposed his face.
‘Oh, no!’ She dropped to her knees as a chill washed over her.
Bob’s eyelids were swollen shut, with his lips swelling as if he’d been stung by a thousand bees. Blood from his flattened nose ran down his face and soaked his shirt.
‘Maddy?’ Bob slurred. He’d lost teeth.
‘What happened? Who did this?’ The blood was everywhere.
‘Listen …’ His groan was filled with pain between irregular gasps for air. ‘There isn’t much time.’
‘I’m calling an ambulance.’ She dug around in her bag for her phone.
Bob grabbed her weakly with a swollen, shaky hand, slick with blood. ‘Maddy, please listen to me.’
Maddison stabbed the emergency numbers on her phone. ‘You need help.’
‘Do you remember my favourite place at the track?’
‘Why are you talking about the track now?’ Maddison frowned at the recorded message being played on her phone. ‘No way! I’m on hold! Can you believe that? On hold for an emergency number!’
‘Maddy!’ Bob grabbed her shirt, dragging her down to face him. ‘You know my secret place at the track?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Fear hammered in her heart so loudly it was a challenge to listen to her phone. She dropped it to the ground, the phone’s speaker playing some eerie background music.
‘Go to the track and find my leather journal. It’s got a memory card in there. You need to finish what I started. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone?’
‘It’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon.’ Why was Bob rambling about his journal? He only kept it for his article notes—but it’d been a long time since he’d published anything decent. ‘Who did this to you? Laurie said some men came looking for you yesterday. Is this their way of debt-collecting?’
‘That mob didn’t shoot me. You can’t get money out of a dead man.’
‘They shot you?!’ Maddison’s voice echoed across the deserted car park. She frantically searched for wounds, but couldn’t see anything through the blood, as she tried to remember her first aid while still on hold for an ambulance. Dragging her work apron out of her bag, she pressed it against Bob’s wounds.
‘Police. Fire. Ambulance,’ said the nasally female monotone over the speakerphone.
‘Quick, I need an ambulance to the car park at Croydon Train Station near a white sedan. My uncle’s been shot and has lost a lot of blood.’ Maddison was desperate to keep a grip before the panic truly set in. ‘Hurry, please!’
‘Ambulance and police have been notified and they’ll be with you shortly.’
‘They’re coming, Bob.’ Maddison pressed her apron harder against his chest to stop the bleeding as he laboured heavily for oxygen. ‘Hang in there, help is on its way.’
‘Trust no one, Maddison.’ Bob groaned through gritted teeth. ‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I said?’
‘You’re not making sense.’ His warm blood seeped through her apron and between her fingers. The rich metallic scent was distinct.
‘Trust no one. Tell no one. Bob bids it, too.’ He gripped her wrist as she pressed against his bleeding chest. ‘Promise me, you’ll finish what I’ve started. It needs to be finished. Promise me!’
‘Okay, okay, I promise.’ The tears welled up in her eyes.
‘You were always a good kid.’ Bob’s pallor was a pasty grey as his chest rattled with each laboured breath. ‘I just wish you’d find something better for yourself than working in a bar.’
‘You can save your lectures on my lifestyle changes for when you’re recovering.’
‘No need for that, honey, just remember to keep your eyes and ears open. Watch your back. And trust no one—especially the police.’
‘What?’
‘Finish what I started. I know you’ll do it, and you’ll make me proud … I love you, Maddy.’ Bob’s words slurred into a whisper, ending in a sigh. It was so shallow and slow, it barely registered.
His head lay back. His shoulders relaxed and his entire body went limp, with his eyes staring vacantly across the car park.
The siren screams were too far away.
‘Bob?’ She couldn’t find a pulse. No heartbeat. Nothing. ‘No-no-no-no.’ She desperately pushed down on his chest, trying to get his heart to work. Pinching his nose, she forced the air back into his lungs. ‘Don’t you leave me.’
A sweep of car lights blinded her as a deafening wail of sirens filled the area. The emergency vehicle’s red and blue flickering lights gave Bob’s car a ghostlike psychedelic glow as they pulled up where Bob lay by the open passenger door.
Maddison continued with her compressions as tears streamed down her face, until the police officers pulled her off and the paramedics exposed Bob’s chest.
‘He’s been shot in the heart,’ said the paramedic to his offsider and shook his head.
Maddison hiccupped between tears, staring at Bob. The guy was harmless, he didn’t deserve to die like that. Why would anyone want to kill Bob?
Three
With her hands hidden deep in her coat pockets, Maddison’s shoulders sagged as she slowly strolled back from the funeral parlour.
Besides the priest keeping Maddison company at the crematorium today, no one else showed up for Bob Farley. It was as if the man had never existed.
But Uncle Bob had left a gaping hole in Maddison’s world.
She kept expecting to find Bob on her couch, snoring like an out-of-tune cello. Or to see him stroll into the bar, tucking in his shirt, as he attempted to straighten the wrinkles on his suit. He’d never knock on her apartment door again, carrying beer and pizza with a story to share from his day out at the races.
