Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Read Free Page B

also insinuating that all priests are paedophiles.”
    Losing all urge to laugh, Paolo glared at Father Greg. “She actually said that?”
    “Not in so many words, no. But it was clear that’s what she meant. Please speak to her, Paolo. She’s too good a student to risk losing her place here.”
    ***
    They’d found a table and ordered by the time Paolo arrived. He didn’t want to question Katy tonight about what Father Gregory had said, but knew he couldn’t put it off for long.
    “I thought I’d come over tomorrow, do those jobs around the house I’ve been meaning to get round to,” he suggested with a smile in Lydia’s direction.
    “Not tomorrow, Paolo. Maybe next weekend.”
    “Oh, Mum, why not? Dad never gets to come over when he wants to. You always make him wait.”
    Lydia sighed. “Katy, that’s not true. Your dad never thinks about my life. He feels he can just turn up whenever he wants.”
    “Well maybe he should be able to. What’s wrong with that?”
    “Katy, don’t speak to your mother like that.” He smiled at Lydia. “Next Saturday will be fine, but maybe Katy and I could do something together tomorrow, what do you say?”
    “Great,” Katy said. “Say yes, Mum.”
    “Why not?”
    Lydia smiled at him, but without warmth. Even now, it seemed she couldn’t forgive him for leaving her to deal with her pain alone.
     

C HAPTER  T HREE
     
    He carefully placed his beloved scourge back in the cupboard, locking the door to keep it safe. He pitied the child he’d been before it came into his life. How old had he been? Six? Nearly seven? It was hard to remember his exact age, but he’d never forget the day he’d been introduced to its exquisite pain.
     
    “You promised me. You promised!”
    He stood outside his parents’ bedroom, ear pressed to the door. His mother’s voice screeched, but his father spoke so quietly it was hard to pick out the words. He loved his father, nothing ever made him angry. His mother was different, nothing ever made her happy. Not even when he did really, really well in his spelling tests or mental arithmetic.
    “You promised me no more whoring. You stink of that slut’s perfume.”
    “What do you expect? I’m a man, not a monk. I have needs.”
    “You disgust me.”
    He jumped as something smashed against the inside of the door and he stepped back, ready to run if one of his parents came out.
    Now his father raised his voice.
    “My desires are natural. You’re the one with a problem. If you allowed me into your bed I wouldn’t need to go elsewhere to-”
    “I can’t,” his mother yelled. “You know that. I can’t. It’s a sin.”
    “No, it isn’t. How do you think I feel, knowing you whip yourself with that disgusting thing rather than sleep with me? Just because you’re frigid, don’t expect me to stay celibate.”
    “It’s a sin unless it’s to procreate.”
    “Oh, for God’s sake, don’t start on that again. I’m as good a catholic as you are, but-”
    “No you’re not,” his mother yelled. “If you were, you wouldn’t run around with dirty whores.”
    “I don’t run around with them. I pay because you-”
    “Don’t say it. Don’t say it,” she screeched.
    “Don’t say what? That you would rather whip your own back until it bleeds than do what comes naturally?”
    “Get out. Get out.”
    Footsteps approached. He fled to his room, shutting the door as quietly as he could. Flinging himself on his bed, he reached for Mr Sam, the best teddy in the world. Mr Sam would make him feel better. Tears dripped onto the teddy’s head. He tried not to make a noise, but the sobs rose in his throat and he couldn’t hold them back.
    He heard his father stomping down the stairs and then the front door slammed. Using his sleeve, he wiped his eyes and prayed his mother wouldn’t be in one of her moods when he went downstairs. Maybe he shouldn’t go down. Maybe he could hide up here until his father came home. Maybe...
    The door