hotline anonymous

chapter 3 : of questions

With equal parts surprise and suspicion, I glance around before opening the note.

"Remy,

You are a curious little thing, aren't you? So thirsty for answers.

Fear not, you shall get them. But till then, bide your time. Save it, like you do your money. Second by second; Penny by penny. "

My suspicion increases tenfold. Clearly, someone knew that not only was I sniffing around for answers, but also that I was right to do so. But the question was who?

Friend or Foe?

Or neither?

Were they harmless or dangerous? Were they close to me? Or to him?

I sigh heavily. 

Deciding to pocket the note, I tear it away from the bouquet carefully. I turn the note over, disappointed to find no logo, or clue, of which flower shop it could have come from.

Clutching the bouquet firmly in my hand, I look at Regal's grave one last time and with a dull ache in my heart I finally walk away. 

My steps take me further and further away from his grave, but maybe closer and closer to finding out who put him there.

***

On reaching closer to home, I notice that the small stationery shop next to my apartment complex is still open. Looking at my phone, I note that it is nearly 3 AM. Guess they still take their, 'Open 24x7 policy' seriously. Smiling slightly at that, I park my car and head in.

When I enter the store, a startled Tim looks up at me from his book, before shooting me a friendly smile, which I return with one of my own.

"Hiya Rem. Another school supply tragedy?" He jokes. This time, I smile indulgently, recalling the countless times he and this store had helped me when I was having a major breakdown because I ran out of pens or glue or something or the other at the oddest of times.

I shake my head. "Nope. Just here to grab some notepads. Phones are so unreliable to make important notes in, you know? They just die whenever!" I say, exasperatedly shaking my phone emphasize my point. He nods in understanding. 

"They're on the third shelf middle row, next to the post-it notes." He replies, nodding his head in its general direction.

I nod my thanks, heading towards it. While I grab about five notepads, each big enough to fit in my purse, and a few pens from another row, Tim sets his book aside and waits for me to approach the counter for billing the items. I sense he has something to say to me, but who doesn't nowadays?

Carrying the items back to the counter, I place them in front of him, and to avoid what I know he will ask, I take the note out of my dress' pocket and read it again.

What did the note mean? Does the person want me to wait for something? If so, then what?

Also, the money part. It didn't quite fit in with the time part, almost a sudden turn from it, frankly. Are they hinting towards a bribe in exchange for information? Or maybe that people have been bribed regarding this case?

Was the note actually... a tip? In the guise of a twisted riddle?

The wheels of my brain start turning, throwing the words around, stretching them out, trying to make sense of them when, in a sudden moment of clarity, I remember something which Tim told me years ago. Back, when I was still a regular customer, a child, who questioned everything she saw and who happened to see something quite unusual one day. Unusual about Tim and his name.

Slipping the note back in my pocket, I look up at Tim and say, "Tim, correct me if I'm wrong, but you spell your name with an 'e' at the end right?"

"Yep. It's 'cause my parents thought it'd bring me good luck and what not." He replies not looking up from the billing machine. Taking this as an opening, he continues, "Listen Rem, you haven't been around lately and people..." I let him drone on, while my brain scrambles to connect him to the note. 

Could there even BE a connection there? Or had I finally lost it?

I nod at his words, hopefully in the right places, all the while trying to piece together what Tim, of all people, could have to do with the mess she had dragged herself into. If  he even had something to do with it, in the first place.

"And you really should- would you like to buy that as well, sweetheart?" Tim asks, noticing my gaze had slipped from him to a lone piggy bank on the counter.

"Uh, yeah sure," I reply, finally actively noticing him, with a slight frown on his face.

"Ok then. Your bill's $65.55."

I pay up quickly, shooting him a tight-lipped smile as a farewell. As I exit the store I stare at the piggy bank. 

Save it, like you do your money. Did the note actually mean to say, in a roundabout way, that... time is money? And that I should spend it wisely?

Frowning down at it, I unlock my car, dumping all of my other purchases in the back seat. While considering if I should put the piggy bank in the back as well, or would it be too fragile to be left with other items, the bank slips right out of my hands. 

I flinch, as I watch the piggy bounce off of my car seat and fall down to the floor of the car. I tentatively go to pick it up, hoping it didn't get cracked from the impact. 

But as I roll it round to check for damages, I hear the sound of something rolling along inside the piggy bank. Just to be sure that there was indeed a sound, I give the piggy bank a shake and hear the sound again. It didn't sound quite like a coin, but rather like... 

the rustling of paper.

Having a sudden epiphany, I quickly shut the back door and get into the front seat of my car, hitting the piggy bank on the car's dash again and again, suspecting that the answers I wanted were, in fact, inside the piggy bank. After a few hard knocks against the dash, the bank finally cracks open and a note falls out from it on my lap.

And just like I had hoped, it is addressed to me again.

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A/N: HOLLAAAA Y'ALL I'M BACK AND GONNA FINISH THIS BOOK, THIS YEAR FINALLY.

2020 IS GONNA BE THIS BOOK'S YEAR!!