Never Trust a Callboy Read Free Page B

can only just tell it’s a body, and he’s not staring at me anymore, which is much better. I then grab a corner of the cover, choosing the one which is as far away as possible from the body lying within, and drag the whole thing behind me.
    I’ve not even made it over the terrace yet and already I’m sweating as if I were in a sauna.
    Gasping for breath, I stop and wipe off the sweat. And then onwards. There’s at least a hundred meters to go. If I continue at this rate, it’ll take all day.
    And then I hear it. Again.
    The doorbell.
    Shit. Shit. Shit. If it’s the police again I’m done for, I’ll get sentenced to life in prison.

5
    T he body has to go. At least far enough that I can no longer see it from the terrace. I feel like a Chinese slave worker. Now I know how it feels to drive fat tourists around in a rickshaw.
    Again the ringing. Damn it, just five meters to go. Suddenly I hear a sound that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.
    The door locks being opened. One after the other. Since our entrance is secured like Fort Knox, the sound carries out to the terrace quite clearly. It can only be my mother.
    Two meters.
    The large bolt at the top of the door squeaks. Ron should have oiled that over a year ago.
    One and a half meters.
    Only the topmost lock is left. The sound is too quiet to hear it. I could have sworn that I perceived the quiet click nevertheless. Now she is inside.
    One meter.
    With a sharp jerk, I yank the tarp the last few centimeters and around the corner. Letting go of the end I sprint into the house. Almost skidding, I come to a standstill before my mother. She inspects me from top to bottom, eyes wide in disbelief. She starts to say something, opens her mouth ... then closes it again. Apparently she’s speechless. It’s a miracle.
    "Tamara you look terrible!"
    How disappointing, she’s recovered from her speechlessness. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with one hand and try to tie my hair up with the other. Somehow I get the impression that it’s pointless. I'm almost certain that discovering a corpse would have shocked my mother far less than my current appearance.
    "I had something to do in the garden."
    "But Ron always does that."
    "He doesn’t come back until Wednesday and I wanted to get it done before then."
    "Do you have to? You look... I don't even know how to put it. You look indescribable. I’ve never seen you looking so dreadful."
    "It's hot and humid. How do you think someone should look after working in this weather? After dragging a cor.. trash around?"
    "No need to be rude. You’d better go have a shower first and then I’ll show you the curtains."
    "You were going to come by tomorrow!"
    "I had to pass by your house anyway. There's no sense coming again tomorrow, just to pollute the environment."
    Yeah, right. Of course! Our house is located in the middle of a residential area. My mother has no other reason to pass by here except to visit me.
    "Now go shower." She wrinkles her nose. "You smell all sweaty."
    Great. The idea of leaving my mother alone with a corpse hidden behind the garage just a few meters away fills me with dread. She has a sixth sense, a built-in radar, that can see everything I want to hide from her. Then my eyes fall on her shoes. Cream-colored stilettos. Maybe God is on my side.
    "And shouldn’t your housekeeper be here by now? It looks..." My mother’s gaze falls on the stool that toppled over along with the body.
    "And what is that?" She gestures towards the flower pot.
    "That was the cat. Our neighbors cat. It must have snuck in overnight. I'm going to kill the damn thing."
    "Tamara!" My mother looks at me shocked. Not because I want to kill the cat, but because I cursed. I never do normally... at least, not in her presence.
    "Well, it's a bloody nightmare." Oops.
    "I think you’d better go shower now. You’re talking nonsense."
    I can't see her face, but I know exactly how she’s looking at me as I leave, shaking her