Footsteps

I’m sure there’s someone following me. It's Marion’s fault, trotting off with geeky Jeremy. Mind you, I didn’t fancy that bloke, or his friend - both a bit weird by my reckoning.
The footsteps are getting louder now and they sound heavy, like a man’s. I can’t run in these blooming heels. I turned round to face him, waving my hairspray, hoping he would think it was one of those gas things. “It’s okay” says our local PCSO, “I could see you were on your own and one murder tonight is quite enough, thank you. Lovely girl that Marion was too”