Billy Angel by Sam Hay Read Free Book Online Page A

‘Don’t be ridiculous! What would Thelma want with a zombie?’
    â€˜Maybe she doesn’t want to get her hands dirty,’ said Gaby. ‘If she’s planning to kill this ex-boyfriend of hers – what’s he called, Charlie Pittam? – well, it would be much easier to get a zombie to do it…’
    â€˜That’s just bonkers,’ I gasped. ‘People don’t go around getting zombies to murder their ex-boyfriends.’
    â€˜Nor do they get visited by scary-looking angels in the middle of the night.’ Gaby folded her arms and put her nose in the air.
    She had a point. The world had gone mad. And one further step into la-la land, seemed quite reasonable.
    I shrugged. ‘Just supposing what you say is true. How can we stop her?’
    â€˜Well, it might help if we know whose skeleton she’s just pinched. If he was a murderer or something, we would know what we’re up against.’
    â€˜A
murderer
?’ I gasped.
    â€˜Oh, yes – in the olden days, murderers’ bodies were often handed over to medical students, you know, after they’d been hung…’
    My throat suddenly started to tingle, and I was having trouble breathing.
    â€˜All we need to do is look up his name,’ she said cheerfully. ‘There must be a records office in the medical school. They’ll be able to tell us what he was hung for.’
    â€˜But we haven’t got a name,’ I grumbled.
    â€˜Yes, we have,’ said Gaby smugly. ‘It was written on the glass case. I could see it clearly – Stan Spooner – which doesn’t sound much like a killer to me…’
    â€˜Stan Spooner!’ I gasped. ‘It can’t be.’
    My heart started to race, and I felt that annoying nipping sensation again – except now it was even more intense. ‘That’s the name of the champion pie eater who choked to death at Potts’ Pies in 1956.’
    â€˜How do you know that?’ said Gaby.
    â€˜Oh, you know,’ I said shakily. ‘I’m just extremely well-read.’ I stood up. ‘Come on, I’ll tell you everything on the way home.’
    â€˜Home?’ Gaby shook her head. ‘We can’t go home, Billy. Don’t you see what this means?’
    â€˜No.’ I definitely did not.
    â€˜If this Stan Spooner guy is some sort of competitive eater – and tonight’s the night ofthe big pie-eating competition, then there must be a link. Thelma’s clearly planning to turn Stan into a zombie and get him to bump off her ex-boyfriend at tonight’s competition. Come on. We’ve got to stop her!’ Gaby grabbed my arm. ‘We’ll take the bus,’ she said firmly. ‘And we’ll still beat Thelma home. Trust me, she’ll be walking. She won’t want to risk someone taking a close look at that shopping trolley.’
    I lugged my tool bag back to the bus stop and wished that I had just Dreamed the stupid Dream. Plumbing had to be easier than all this do-gooding.

Chapter 12
    Once again, Gaby was right. When we got back to Thelma’s street there was no sign of her. I checked my watch. Four o’clock.
    â€˜Two hours to go before the pie-eating competition,’ I said.
    â€˜Two hours to stop Thelma,’ said Gaby.
    We climbed over her garden wall, me still with my big tool bag, and Gaby trying not to get mud on her boots. Then we took up position behind the compost heap. The fact that it stank and was covered in slugs and worms didn’t bother me. I was getting used to disgusting stuff.
    And then Thelma appeared, dragging the trolley with her. She didn’t even glance at the house, she just headed for the shed. When I say shed, you’re probably thinking small wooden hut for keeping your lawn mower in. But you’d be wrong. This shed looked like a Swiss chalet – you know, the type of place Heidi lived in.It was enormous, with fancy, fluted windows