Something Wicked Read Online Free PDF Page B

and comfortably enough to crack open the head of a child who’d already been told to stop running. There was a health and safety officer somewhere with corks
and polystyrene just waiting to come in and make the place safe. As well as the hallway door they’d entered through, there was another leading towards the garden and a third slightly ajar
that led into another part of the house.
    Violet plonked herself on a stool on the other side of the unit, making a vague gesture towards the seat on the opposite side. ‘So, you found out what he’s getting up to,
then?’
    Andrew reached into his bag, thumbing aside the laptop and plucking out the file. ‘First, I should make sure that you definitely want to hear this.’
    He eyed her closely, looking for any sense of alarm or worry. Instead, she scratched her ear. ‘Go on.’
    Andrew opened the cover of the file and slid it across the counter, tapping his finger on the top sheet. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news, Mrs Deacon. We tracked your husband’s
car to this establishment. All of the details are in there; timings, photographs. We don’t have anything of the actual . . . act . . . but there should be more than enough
evidence.’
    He sat back, waiting for either a torrent of denials and disbelief, or a tsunami of anger. Instead, he got neither.
    ‘So it’s just some brothel out Huyton way, then?’
    She sounded almost disappointed.
    Andrew was about to reply when the third door squeaked open, revealing a scowling teenager, all hands in pockets and slouchy, as if he was missing a vertebra or five. In a flash, his hands were
raised, a finger jabbing accusingly at Andrew. ‘Are you the prick who’s trying to drive my dad away?’
    With a creak of the stool, Andrew was on his feet, taking a half-step away as the young man continued towards him. Violet leapt up, rounding the unit with a series of sidesteps, like a drunken
crab. ‘Jack, what have I told you about listening into other people’s conversations?’
    He ignored her, trying to manoeuvre around his mother’s frame, finger still raised. He had deliberately greasy dark hair, smeared to the side as if he had been standing sideways in a wind
tunnel, plus jeans hanging low around his backside and a long-sleeved top with a band logo that Andrew vaguely recognised.
    ‘You bender. What’s any of this got to do with you, eh? Sticking your nose into other people’s business—’
    He was interrupted by a crisp, clean slap across the face that cracked around the room, like a backfiring car. This time, it was Violet jabbing the finger. ‘You have no right to be
listening in to my private conversations. I don’t care if it is half-term – we’re not going over this again. Now go upstairs and get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you
again today.’
    The pair stared at each other, gesticulating fingers at the ready, as if they were fencers ready for a swordfight.
    Jack caved first, peering around his mother one final time to sneer at Andrew
before turning on his heels and heading into the hallway. Seconds later, the front door banged closed, making it feel as if the entire house was in danger of collapse.
    Violet stayed standing for a few moments, before smoothing down her top and sighing her way back to her stool.
    She didn’t look up from the counter: ‘Do you have kids?’
    Andrew retook his seat. ‘No.’
    ‘Don’t. Honestly, fifteen-year-olds are the worst. Well, not compared to thirteen-year-olds, but you know what I mean. Well, you don’t but . . .’
    Andrew got it.
    Violet yanked a flexible tap towards her and filled a glass with water, downing half of it in one and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. ‘It’s really not his fault; he’s had to
put up with this his entire life. I would have left Stewart years ago but decided to keep things together for Jack, at least until he leaves school.’ She paused, holding a hand up to indicate
the house. ‘It starts getting messy when you have