The Summer We All Ran Away by Cassandra Parkin Read Free Book Online Page B

saccharine-sweet.
    â€œI’m sorry. No, I’m not - ” He had to stop himself from slapping himself on the forehead.
    â€œDid you kill someone?”
    Davey spluttered over his coffee.
    â€œWhy on earth would you think I’d killed someone?”
    â€œYou turned up here out of the blue, you were absolutely dead drunk, you were obviously running away in a hurry, your face is a fuckin’ mess and all you’ve said since you got here is that you’re
sorry”
She shrugged. “Murder’s not the onlyanswer, but it’s a good one.”
    Davey stared at her in horror.
    â€œSo,” she said, watching him with interest. “Did you?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t!”
    â€œSure?”
    â€œI think I’d remember!”
    â€œProbably,” she agreed. “You could be lying. But I bet you’re a fuckin’ useless liar. Which would you rather be, a bad liar or a successful murderer?”
    â€œWhat kind of a question is that?” asked Davey crossly.
    â€œJust pick one.”
    â€œBut why? Oh, alright then, a bad liar.”
    â€œYou’d rather be bad at something than good at something?” Priss seemed disappointed. “Do you want some more porridge?” Without waiting for him to answer, she took his bowl and filled it again.
    â€œThank you,” he said, surprised. She shrugged.
    â€œKate told me to feed you. Thing is, the Holmesian method of deduction doesn’t really allow for multiple possibilities. You
might
be a murderer on the run, but you might have come here ’cos you like the view, got drunk ’cos you think it’s cool, smashed up your face ’cos you walked into a door, say sorry all the time ’cos you’re an inadequate loser with no self-esteem, and only packed socks and
Alice in Wonderland
’cos you left your luggage at the station. What?”
    â€œHow do you know what I brought?”
    â€œI went through your bag, soft lad, to check you didn’t have a gun.”
    â€œWhy would I have a gun?”
    â€œYou might have brought one with you.”
    â€œYes, but why a g-g-g - ”
    â€œYou might have come to kill us.”
    Davey was beginning to find Priss irritating.
    â€œWell, you went through my stuff while I was asleep.
You
might have been planning to kill
me.”
    â€œIt’s not much of an MO, though, is it? Waiting in a housein the middle of nowhere for people to turn up so you can do ’em over? That’s the problem with haunted-house horrors, isn’t it? You’re relying on the victims to show up. If you were, like, deeply compelled to kill, you wouldn’t just sit inside hoping someone’s car’ll break down nearby. You’d go out and find someone. Fuckin’ Hollywood, sacrificing credibility for a great set.” She seemed to have forgotten her original point, if she’d even had one. “Like, I love
Psycho
, but how realistic is it that you could just get rid of your mother and no-one would notice she’d gone, while still running a fully functioning motel?”
    â€œDidn’t he dress up as his mother?” Davey offered tentatively.
    â€œYeah, I suppose. But that wasn’t my point, okay? My point is, logically speaking it’s much more likely you’re going to hurt us than we’re going to hurt you.” She sighed, and scribbled on the edge of the table.
    â€œKate told you not to do that,” said Davey, seeing a chance to attack.
    â€œNo, she didn’t. She told me to draw something
pretty.”
Priss invested the word with a profound scorn.
    â€œAre you going to?” asked Davey, fascinated by the notion of a household where drawing on the furniture was allowed.
    â€œNo I am fucking not. I don’t believe in
pretty
. What a pointless goal to focus on. Pretty’s the biggest fuckin’ waste of time ever invented. Actually, no it’s not, the biggest waste of time is love.