Murder Game by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-04-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

This little piggy hurt Julia, this little piggy went mad, this little piggy was nosey, and the next little piggy is bad…

I laugh quietly.

I think I’m going as mad as Mo.

* * * *

Nora cleaned everywhere except the boys’ room—even the bathroom, which she only usually did once a week. You never knew, did you, whether the need to pee was going to get you, and she reckoned the police pissed as much as the next person.

It was noon by the time she finished. Her hands stank of bleach, and her skin was shrivelled on her fingertips from so much dipping them in water. She looked around, pleased that her house was nothing like it had been in the old days. She’d slowly replaced all the furniture from her marriage, visiting thrift stores—one sold all manner of good furniture—and once, getting a grant from some poor people’s place that allowed her to shop for goods in Argos. She’d hated the handout, but it had been necessary if she were to rid herself and the boys of memories from the past. And she had been poor, no denying it, although she’d tried not to see herself as such. Pride. But the counsellor had said her children needed a clean slate, and that’s what she’d promised to give them.

Never again had they had a hand raised to them. Never again had they heard a harsh word from a parent. And they wouldn’t in the future, not if she had anything to do with it.

The doorknocker tapped, the rap of it tinny, echoic. Her stomach rolled over, leaving behind a griping pain that snaked up her windpipe and left her breathless. She straightened her fitted T-shirt, conscious that her ever-present roll of fat slouched over the waistband of her too-tight jeans. Maybe one day she’d diet, but really, what was the point? There was no one to look good for—no one she wanted to look good for—except herself, as all the women’s magazines spouted.

She swung the front door open, and even though she’d been expecting the police, they still gave her a fright when she saw them standing side by side on her path. She was already familiar with these two. Age had done a number, stealing smooth skin and replacing it with wrinkles, but other than that they were just the same.

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she forced her hands to remain by her sides. No, she wouldn’t lift them to where… No, she wouldn’t do that.

“Long time no see, Mrs Pritchard,” Constable Fitzsimmons said.

He smiled, and she couldn’t work out whether it was genuine or not. His black hair was greying at the temples, peeking from below his hat, inch-wide strips of sideburn that ended at his jawline.

“Yes,” Nora said, wondering how she should play this since Sarah had warned her they’d be coming.

“May we come in a moment?” Constable Dalter asked.

She stepped back to allow them entry. “I know it’s not about my boys because they’re upstairs.”

She had to think about that for a second or ten, though.

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