Blood Crazy by Simon Clark

Author:Simon Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2014-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Six

Life Is Grotesque

Life goes on. Or in some cases it is death that marches on.

When Dave’s body was found I was ordered to see Curt in his suite. After being frisked for weapons I was escorted inside.

Curt sat behind a desk, his loose lips sucking a cigar. ‘You killed Middleton, didn’t you?’

‘No.’

‘Come on, Nick. You can tell me … Jesus, it’s not as though I’m going to grass you to the cops, is it, now?’

Curt had made up his mind on the matter – and in a way I was responsible for Dave’s death.

I nodded.

Curt laughed. ‘Good for you, pal. I never could stand the shitter anyway. Have a cigar … Go on, take two.’

I took them.

‘You know, Nick, we ought to knock around more – we had some good laughs this summer.’

I made a matey smile. ‘Yeah … Sure.’

‘Have you seen anything of Slatter lately?’

‘No. With any luck the stupid twat will have fallen down a hole somewhere.’

That was a deliberate gamble on my part. No one dared say anything insulting about Slatter, even behind his back. Curt and his crew believed that Slatter could somehow supernaturally hear everything they said.

It paid off. Curt raised his eyebrows, impressed. ‘Come on. Let’s have a drink. You’re wasted just dossing around here. It’s time we discussed your … prospects, yeah, ha, ha … Your career prospects. You made a spectacular mess of Middleton’s brains, you know. How close were you when you pulled the trigger?’

We spent a couple of hours joking, laughing.

At lunchtime topless girls served us with steaks and champagne.

‘Where’s Jonathan?’ I asked as Curt swigged from a bottle.

‘Remember that Asian girl … wassername … Kitty? He’s got her in his room. He’s breaking her in for Del-Coffey.’

We laughed hard, then Curt said, ‘Look … You can see the Church tower from here.’ He opened the veranda window and stepped out onto the patio.

‘Right you are, Sam.’ He called down. ‘Light the fuse, but remember to stand well back.’

Lunch rested in my stomach like a bowling ball.

‘There’s some binoculars on the table … You know, with those you can actually see the expressions on their faces when … boom!’

TV villains are supposed to laugh off their sadism in a cold way. Curt was hot, sweaty, even scared.

I watched a heavily built girl with ginger hair Carry The Can. She ran barefoot, clutching the silver pipe to her chest like it was a puppy. I didn’t use the binoculars, and I didn’t want to see her face. But I laughed when Curt laughed and jeered when Curt jeered.

The girl ran along the drive, through the gates, and then down the road into the village, her bare feet cracking against the stones. I knew she didn’t feel it. All her concentration was focused on reaching the top of the churchtower and the key in the jar.

Normally she wouldn’t have made it to the bottom of the drive before stopping to pant the air back into her lungs.

With the pipe fizzing in her hands, she ran like her feet had sprouted wings.

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