Riot Act by Zoe Sharp Read Free Book Online Page A

trunk, it struck me abruptly that, unless they were very, very stupid, that was precisely why the kids on the road hadn’t had anything to do with it.
     
    It was a train of thought that kept me occupied almost right back to Pauline’s front door. I discovered when I got there that two pairs of brown eyes were anxiously watching my return through a gap in the hedge.
     
    Aqueel and Gin were Nasir’s younger brother and sister, of around eight and six. I discovered very soon after my arrival that they regarded Friday with a kind of horrified fascination. They were particularly intrigued by the fact that I could get so close to him, when Pauline was away, without getting bitten. I didn’t enlighten them as to how suddenly tolerant the dog became of the person who controlled the can opener. When Pauline returned, she would want to find Friday’s good name savagely intact.
     
    I waved to them through the hedge and, having been spotted, they waved back. Or at least, Aqueel did, being the braver of the two. Gin merely ducked behind her brother’s back, chewing her hair.
     
    “Is Friday being very fierce today, Charlie?” Aqueel asked me gravely.
     
    “Yes Aqueel, I’ve struggled to keep him from attacking several people,” I told him, with equal seriousness, adding with a hard stare, “He is very annoyed about all this broken glass all over the pavements where he has to walk. It hurts his feet and makes him especially bad tempered.”
     
    Aqueel swallowed and, over his shoulder, his sister’s eyes grew round as coffee cups.
     
    I knew I was trying that one on for size, but I was pretty sure that one of the Mercedes vandals had been Aqueel. Despite his angelic face and general air of butter-wouldn’t-melt.
     
    “Please tell Friday that it wasn’t me, Charlie,” he begged now. “It wasn’t. Honest!”
     
    I glanced at the dog, who had given up waiting for me to open the front door and had sat down heavily on the drive. He stared up at my face with his head on one side, as though considering.
     
    I shrugged. “I’m not sure he believes you, Aqueel,” I said sadly. “You see, he thinks he saw you out there yesterday, and—”
     
    “That was yesterday,” Aqueel protested. “All these cars, that was not us. It was white people, like you.”
     
    “Aqueel! Gin! Get inside immediately, and get ready for school.” It was Nasir who rebuked them, stepping out of the front porch to favour me with a contemptuous glare. He cuffed them both round the head as they dodged under his arm and through the doorway.
     
    Nasir wasn’t dressed for work today. No ripped jeans and T-shirt, but designer labels were in abundance and he had the right build to show them off.
     
    “Morning Nasir,” I said now, as cheerfully as I could, but he didn’t answer. Before I could find a way of bringing the conversation round to his outburst at Shahida’s house, he’d ducked back indoors without speaking further, letting the front door close firmly behind him. I shrugged. There’d be another time. Then I finally let a patiently yawning Friday into his own home for breakfast.
     
    ***
     
    It wasn’t until later that afternoon that I was treated to the next instalment. I’d decided to wheel the Suzuki onto the concrete flagged patio in the back garden to give it a good clean, having only worked a half day at the gym.
     
    If you’re into serious body-building, and you live anywhere round Lancaster, then the chances are that you do your training at Attila’s place. Not that Attila was the muscular and athletic owner’s real name, but his German parentage and almost stereotypical Aryan good looks made the misnomer inevitable.
     
    I’d been going to the gym on and off for practically as long as I’d lived in Lancaster, and I’d been working there for around three months.
     
    I’d fallen into the job by accident, really, having spent a good deal of my time rehabilitating there during the early part of the summer. I