Father and Son by John Barlow Read Free Book Online Page A

own, was he?” he asks, letting the information about Freddy
sink in, but keen not to dwell on it.
    “I think so, yes. That boy can eat!”
    “That’s the truth. By the way, you haven’t seen Roberto today, have
you?”
    “From next door? See him all the time. Now there’s another greedy…”
    “What’s his normal routine? Grabs something when he closes up, late
on?”
    Nazif shifts, doesn’t like this.
    There’s no choice, John tells himself, he’ll have to say something.
    “He’s disappeared. No one knows where he’s gone. Left town, just
like that! He’s an old friend of the family. I’m trying to work out where he is.”
    That’ll be the story. Rob just disappeared. It’s not as if he’s
coming back. Just disappeared . The end of Roberto.
    Nazif still looks suspicious.
    “He used to work for my dad,” John adds.
    “Roberto?”
    “Yeah, years ago. We’re worried about him.”
    Those large hands are held palm-upwards.
    “I wish I could help.”
    “You haven’t seen him for a day or two?”
    Nazif thinks, his forehead crumpled up. “Saw him yesterday… No, day
before.”
    “Anything unusual? Did he seem different?”
    He shakes his head. Then he stops, a grin spreading across his face,
turning his cheeks tight and shiny.
    “Perhaps he eloped !”
    “What?”
    “He’s in here with a lady. Very attractive. He buys her a burger.
Acting the gentleman, you know. An’ she was tasty. Very .”
    “Describe her,” John says, and now there’s nothing friendly about
his tone.
    Nazif tries to hold his smile. He doesn’t want to describe her.
    “Lanny wants to know,” John says.
    That does the trick.
    “Big hair, wavy, loads of it.”
    “Colour?”
    “Red.”
     
    Out of the door and storming down the street.
    Freddy’ll have to wait.
     

Chapter Thirteen
    “Hi,” she says.
“How was your dad?”
    She’s dressed now, cramming newspapers and several large notebooks
into an even larger leather shoulder bag.
    “Going somewhere?”
    “Yep.” She stops. “Is something wrong?”
    “Dad wasn’t too good,” he says, closing the door gently behind him.
“I had some bad news for him.”
    “Really? Sorry to hear that.”
    She doesn’t look away.
    He moves towards her, the anger coursing through his body, reaching
the tips of his fingers.
    “You know somebody called Roberto? Runs a bar in town?”
    Her eyes narrow a fraction.
    Watch her.
    “Bloke called Roberto. You know him or not?”
    He’s right up to her. Raises his hand, his index finger pointing, almost
touching her nose. He could snap her neck. At this moment he could do it. Eye
for an eye.
    If he was sure.
    “I’ll ask you one more time.”
    “Do you think you’re frightening me?” Her voice is flat, slow. “I’ve
been threatened by big fellas before, you know.”
    “I’m not trying to frighten you.”
    “Good, because to do that you really need to be holding a gun to my
head. Even then, it’s fifty-fifty I give a shit.”
    He says nothing. He could break her neck. Who’d know? Who’d care?
    “A shot to the leg, was it?” he says. “Then one in each arm? Tape
him to the chair?”
    He nods as he’s speaking. It fits. Anybody could have done it,
anyone who could shoot a gun. Did she slip out last night, after he fell
asleep? After he drank all that whisky?
    “Why don’t you tell me what this is about, John?” she says.
    What other options does he have?
    “I’m trying to find out who killed a friend of mine.”
    “And what’s that got to do with Roberto?” she asks.
    “So you do know who he is?”
    She nods.
    He waits. But so does she. She’s brave, but she’s also confused.
    She doesn’t know.
    “He’s dead. Rob’s dead.”
    You can fake a lot of things, but you can’t force the blood to drain
from your face. Her skin, never much colour to it anyway, is now grey, her lips
a watery pink. She sits down, arms resting on her thighs, her whole body loose,
as if it’s been dropped there.
    He fills two