Something Wicked Read Free Page A

companies. His wife isn’t named as a director of any of them,
which should tell you one thing.’
    Jenny made an umming sound, although it might have been a yawn. ‘Not a bad business really. Buy houses dead cheap because no one wants them, pay someone to do them up, sell them on for
more.’
    ‘People have been doing that for years – it’s picking houses in the right area. There’s no point in buying a house in the middle of some sink estate – you could
turn it into a palace but no one’s going to want to live there.’
    ‘True.’
    Andrew kept driving, waiting until Jenny cut in again as they passed the sign for Huyton. ‘Okay, you need to ease off,’ she said.
    A small rank of shops and thirty-mile-an-hour signs were signalling the end of the countryside and the beginnings of the town. Eight or nine cars ahead, Andrew could see the sleek grey Audi
waiting at another set of traffic lights.
    Green for go and the car turned right onto a housing estate, with Andrew telepathically encouraging the drivers ahead to put their sodding feet down and narrowly making the turn before the
lights flickered back to red.
    ‘This is where I lost him last week,’ Andrew said.
    He continued driving straight ahead, but the grey car was nowhere to be seen, even though there were no turn-offs.
    ‘Pull over,’ Jenny said, lifting the tablet. ‘We’re sort of on top of him.’
    Andrew parked on the road and switched off the engine. Ahead, the road stretched away in a straight line, rows of houses flanking both sides with neat gardens, low walls and lines of satellite
dishes. He twisted to get a better view through the back window, taking in the junction and the shops.
    ‘He’s behind us,’ Jenny said, opening her door.
    Andrew climbed out, rounding the car until he was on the pavement next to her. Jenny angled the tablet towards him and he blinked his way into the map, trying to figure out how the
two-dimensional lines were a representation of where he actually was. The red dot which signalled their car was motionless, with a blue one showing the Audi half-overlapping.
    Jenny began pointing towards the shops a moment before Andrew worked out where they were in relation to the map. She took a few steps forward, Andrew at her side.
    Running around the shops was a smattering of cracked paving slabs masquerading as a car park. Andrew and Jenny walked to the main road, still watching the unmoving blue dot on the map as they
realised they’d apparently gone past the Audi without seeing it. Andrew gazed back towards his own vehicle on the empty road – they must have passed the car they were following, even
though they definitely hadn’t.
    In front, fluorescent bulbs from inside the row of shops blazed out onto the pavement, lighting up the overcast day. There was a Spar at the end, advertising six cans of shoddy lager for the
price of four and two-for-one on ginger nuts. Jenny’s old boyfriend with the first-class degree in philosophy would surely have something to say about that. Next to the Spar was a
hairdresser’s, with a sign declaring that you could be ‘cut and blown’ for a tenner: a bargain, with or without the cutting. After that was the customary pizza shop, betting hole
and a florist. Nothing advertising car vanishing, which would have made their lives a little easier.
    Jenny began walking back in the direction they’d come, tablet thrust in front of her.
    ‘He’s got to be here somewhere . . .’ She stopped on the pavement at the end of the row of shops and turned in a full circle. ‘His car is right here.’
    Along the back of the shops, disjointed mounds of gravel had been piled to either side. Wide wheelie bins were shoved into alcoves, with overgrown trees drooping ominously and casting a deep
shadow across the space. Andrew took in the scene, wondering what he was missing. He began walking along the alley, feet scrunching across the grit. It was only when he passed the back door of the