Blood Crazy Read Free Page A

easily.
    Steve’s mum and dad had divorced years ago. The weekends his dad worked away a few of the gang would stop over at his house and make a party of it. Lately a gang of girls had been promising to stay too. Suddenly weekends were starting to get not just exciting but electrifying.
    I told my dad about the murder. He was as horrified as I expected him to be. He kept shaking his head in disbelief. That kind of thing just didn’t happen in a small town like Doncaster.
    He looked at his watch. ‘I take it you two lads have come to interrupt my honest relaxation.’ He reached down beside the sofa and came back with a can of beer. He smiled, exposing the gap in his top front teeth through which he could make the loudest whistle I’ve ever heard. ‘It’s not one of those video nasties again?’
    â€˜Not this week. I taped a concert last night. We thought we’d watch it this afternoon … that is, if you’re not watching anything, eh …’
    â€˜This old horse opera?’ My dad took a deep swallow of beer. ‘It’s only the one I saw the night I proposed to your mother. But you watch what you want. It’s as bad as I remembered the first time around. You know nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.’
    He stood up. Cake crumbs showered onto the carpet.
    â€˜You’re living dangerously,’ I said. ‘Mother will go absolutely, totally insane when she sees the mess.’
    My dad pulled a face. ‘I’m safe. I’ll blame it on you two.’
    He crossed the deep carpet that mum hoovered with religious zeal every day and left the empty beer can on the window sill.
    â€˜Hey, Nick-Nick.’ My fifteen-year-old brother called from the doorway, swinging a carrier bag in his hand. ‘Got any spare cash?’
    â€˜Not if you’re going to waste it on anything stupid like dictionaries and exercise books.’
    â€˜Nah. Robbo’s selling me a couple of his CDs.’
    â€˜Thank God for that. It’s time you started mis-spending your youth.’
    â€˜Don’t listen to your brother,’ dad said. ‘He’ll either end up a millionaire or—’
    â€˜IN JAIL.’ We chorused the old Aten catch phrase.
    â€˜There’s some spare cash in my tin. Not the one shaped like a coffin. The one with the naked lady – so cover your eyes when you get it.’
    John saluted. ‘Thanks, Nick-Nick. You’re a hero.’
    The image of my brother standing there in the doorway, eyes flashing happily, big freckled face grinning, is nailed permanently to my mind. It was the last time I saw him alive.
    He ran upstairs, his feet thumping heavily. I heard my bedroom door open, then footsteps crossing to the bedside table. A pause.
    He was counting the money. He’d take not a penny more than he needed. I heard the feet pass back out onto the landing toward his room.
    Then nothing more.
    â€˜You shouldn’t give your hard-earned away like that, Nick.’ Dad shook his head, smiling, flashing that gap in his teeth again. ‘He gets money of his own.’
    â€˜I know, but he fritters it away on history books and junk like that.’
    My dad picked up a hammer from the sideboard and pointed it at me playfully. ‘I’ll find out how much John’s paying for them and I’ll give you the money back Monday. Now watch that concert, I’ve got a job that needs doing upstairs.’
    Casually swinging the hammer, he walked out of the room. I trawled through the drawer in the video cabinet for the tape. As always I’d not bothered writing on the memo label so there would be a five-minute interval of swearing and false starts before I found what I was looking for.
    As I pulled out the tapes mum came in with a plateful of sliced cake and tea – all part of the Saturday afternoon ritual. In her track suit, her dark hair short and neat, she looked ten years younger thanshe was. Within