The Scent of Blood Read Free

insect next to her scowled at his boss.
    “Sandy Milford.” Charlie’s voice was quiet but deadly.
    And yet Mr Monkton seemed entirely unaware of their seething emotions. His face contracted into a tight frown and he said vaguely, “Sandy Milford? The keeper who…? Oh dear… Yes, of course. Terrible thing. Very sad. Tragic.” A nerve twitched in his cheek. “April, sort it out, will you? Wash it off, or paint over it or something. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.” He took off his glasses but didn’t move. It was as though he couldn’t quite remember where his office was.
    April came to his rescue. “Let’s go inside, shall we, sir?” She looked at the others. “Come on, everyone,” she said briskly. “Back to work. Mr Monkton doesn’t pay you just to stand around.”
    Dismissed, the staff left the courtyard. Then April’s eyes fell on Mum and Becca standing uncertainly by the car. “Can I help you?” she asked.
    “Oh!” Mum looked flummoxed for a moment. “Er – we’re staying in the hotel. We won the raffle.”
    “Ah, yes. Congratulations. Ms Fields, isn’t it? You’ll find the reception area through those double doors. Enjoy your stay.”
    April pointed across the courtyard, then turned to lead Mr Monkton away.
    It was only then that we realized someone had crept quietly up behind us. Someone who was now staring at the graffiti, a wide, toothy grin fixed in a striped orange and black face.
    It was a tiger.
    Or at least it was someone in a tiger suit – bright, fuzzy and fake.
    But Anthony Monkton reacted as if he’d come face to face with a man-eating killer. His glasses dropped from his hand, the lenses smashing on the cobbles. And then he screamed.

sandy milford
    Mr Monkton’s scream echoed across the courtyard, bouncing from one wall to another, high and ear-piercingly loud. The tiger ripped off its head to reveal the flushed face of a young woman whose hair was dyed almost as orange as the suit she was wearing. “I’m so sorry, Mr Monkton!” she gabbled. “I didn’t mean to scare you! Are you all right?”
    Faces had begun to appear at the basement windows, peering up at their boss in astonishment, and Mum and Becca were staring at him with their mouths open.
    “Where did you get that?” April demanded. Her hands had bunched into fists and for a second I thought she might actually hit the girl.
    The tiger-lady pulled at her fur. “This? It was on my desk. There was a memo attached. I thought you…”
    April interrupted her roughly. “For pity’s sake, Zara, haven’t you got anything better to do than fool around in fancy dress? Go and get changed.”
    April moved away, steering Mr Monkton down the stairs to the basement offices.
    Graham and I were left standing beside Zara.
    “But I
haven’t
got anything better to do,” she told us forlornly. “I’m supposed to keep the kids happy. It’s what I get paid for.” She sighed, replaced her head and stomped across the courtyard dejectedly, her long stripy tail trailing behind her. She disappeared into the education centre and there was a moment’s pause before Mum, looking slightly apprehensive about the weekend ahead, said, “Let’s go and get checked in, shall we?”
    The Healing Harmony Hotel and Spa had the hushed, reverential atmosphere of an old-fashioned museum or library, or maybe even a Buddhist temple. It was all polished wood, slate and empty white walls. Wind chimes tinkled gently every time a door opened or closed, and the staff spoke softly, as if scared of disturbing the meditative atmosphere. Mum and Becca couldn’t wait to get on with some serious rest and relaxation. As soon as we’d dumped our bags in our rooms, they both disappeared in search of Mystical Energy, leaving Graham and I to explore. After collecting our information pack from the receptionist, we headed out across the courtyard. A man – presumably Jerry from the maintenance department – had already begun to wash the blood-red