Blood on the Marsh by Peter Tickler

Author:Peter Tickler [Tickler, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books
Published: 2019-10-01T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Of course I put the whisky in Nan Nan’s flask that Sunday. I always did. She’d get cross if I didn’t, and when she was cross, she was really nasty. She could say terrible things. Not that I told the police that last bit. I don’t want them to think badly of her. Anyway it was my job to do it. I always come home on Sunday. Dad would go and get Nan Nan from the old folks’ home, and Mum would cook the roast dinner. When she arrived, I’d get her a drink, and she’d also give me her hip flask, and I’d top it up with whisky for her to take back to the home. Mind you, when I say top up, that’s not really true. Usually it was empty, so it’d be a case of fill it up, not top it up.

‘Did you ever add anything to the whisky?’ the lady detective asked.

‘Once,’ I said. ‘You see, once Dad told me to add some water. He told me she was drinking too much whisky. ‘She’s drinking me out of house and home,’ he said. So I mixed some water with the whisky, but she knew, and the next Sunday she didn’t half tell me off. I didn’t like that. So I never tried it again.’

‘David,’ the lady detective asked, really slow, as if I was some sort of idiot, ‘someone put some medicine into your gran’s flask before she died. Something to make her sleep better. Only it went wrong and she went to sleep and never woke up. Was that you, David?’

Went to sleep and never woke up! Does the lady think I don’t know what death is? Does she think I am completely brainless? She was accusing me of killing Nan Nan. I went mad then. I started shouting and all sorts. ‘I didn’t!’ I shouted. ‘I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t!’

Then Mum started shouting too, shouting at the lady detective, and it was terribly noisy, so I stopped shouting and put my hands over my ears until it had all gone quiet.

‘Sorry!’ the lady said. But she wasn’t sorry, I could see that. She looked at me like I was a dumb child. People often do. And she smiled a false smile. ‘I just need to ask you where you were this last Monday,’ she said.

So I told her. ‘I went to work,’ I said. ‘I got there at 9 o’clock, and I had my lunch at 12 o’clock, and I went home at 4.30 p.m. like I usually do.’

‘And what did you do in the evening? Did you go out at all?’

‘No’ I said. ‘I stayed in all evening because I wanted to play on my new computer game. I also watched EastEnders. I like EastEnders.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

‘I’m going to be late for work because of you,’ I said.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve already spoken to Jaz.’

Doesn’t Mum understand? That’s not the point. I hate being late. I’m never late.

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