Killing Mum_Kindle by Allan Guthrie Read Free Book Online

cigarette not even half-smoked.
    "What are you trying to say, Jordan? I'm sorry for what you had to do. But what does it have to do with Maggie?"
    Maybe that's your mother. Jordan pointed towards the headlights approaching along the road that led to the waste ground.
    "Why Maggie?" Carlos said.
    You really have to ask? It needed to be done. And you didn't have the balls to do it yourself.
    "She said it wasn't her who'd taken out the contract on my mother."
    Maybe, but what about our other dead friend? Bob was there to carry out a contract on you .
    "You don't know that."
    It's how it looked to me.
    "Maggie thought I'd killed my mother."
    And that makes it okay?
    The car pulled to a stop. "Better check that's Mum," Carlos said. He took out his phone, his thumb stabbing at the phone to light the display.
     
    ***
     
    "I can't make out a thing," Carlos's mother said. "Is Maggie there?"
    "She left us to it." His mother would find out sooner or later, but Carlos needed to work out what he was going to tell her first. Later was infinitely preferable to sooner. "Not too happy with the stunt we pulled on her."
    "Didn't think she would be. How did she get home?"
    "I don't know. Probably flagged down a taxi."
    "You just let her wander off?"
    "Didn't have much choice."
    "You spoken to her since?"
    "Been too busy."
    "I hope she got home okay. Want me to call her?"
    "Don't worry about Maggie." Carlos paused. "It wasn't her."
    "You mean...?"
    "Yeah."
    "I didn't think so."
    She was always so fucking right.
    "Well," Carlos said. "Better get on with this, I suppose. Be with you soon." He hung up, said, "Come on," to Jordan and together they went round to the back of the van. Carlos opened the back doors, removed a can of petrol and set it on the ground. He took a plain white t-shirt, a can of spray paint, a couple of pencil torches and a box of cooking matches out of the hold-all.
    He handed the spray paint and a torch to Jordan. "Write something," he said.
    What's the point?
    "Make the police think it's joyriders ."
    But once it's burnt, nobody'll be able to read it.
    "They will," Carlos said. He remembered what Maggie had told him. Heard her say, "The heat burns the paint into the bodywork or something. Whatever you write, the cops'll be able to read it once the fire's out. So Bob says."
    Fuck, that's weird.
    "Fire's weird."
    Jordan didn't move.
    Carlos turned on his torch, shone the beam at him. " You going to get on with it?"
    What should I write?
    "Use your imagination."
    Jordan moved away.
    Carlos stuck his torch in his mouth, soaked the t-shirt in petrol.
    When he'd finished, he walked over to watch Jordan's handiwork. Jordan had written FIREMEN on the side of the van and was standing staring at it.
    He noticed the beam of Carlos's torch, stepped back. I'm stuck.
    "Suck," Carlos said, around the torch.
    No, stuck.
    Carlos took the torch out of his mouth. "Suck," he said. "Add 'suck'."
    Okay. Jordan shook the can, sprayed out the word. 'Firemen suck.' Sounds a bit lame.
    "Cock," Carlos said. "Add 'cock'."
    Nice.
    When Jordan had finished, Carlos said, "Beautiful. Now scribble something else on the other side."
    Like what?
    "I don't fucking know."
    Jordan paused for a moment, then disappeared.
    "You mind opening that door while you're there?" Carlos said. He opened the driver's side door himself. Apparently that helped get the oxygen flowing. Thanks, Bob. Nearly ready. Just had to wait for Jordan to finish his final touch of graffiti. Carlos picked up the petrol can, walked round to the passenger side to join him, and stood back, listening to the cshh cshhhp of the paint leaving the canister.
    Done, Jordan said, finally, torchbeam directed at his graffiti. He'd written: BOB WAS HERE, placing the joyrider here committing arson rather than out in the country getting shot. Course, his body was in the van, clearly shot. As was Maggie's. But the more there was to confuse the police, the better.
    "Inspired," Carlos said. "Chuck the spray can