Tomorrow's Ghosts by Charles Christian Read Free Book Online Page B

eating his
Kellogg’s Bran Flakes
rather than say anything supportive about his daughter.
    “No change there then,” notes Dannii, who is by now so used to Xanthe’s sly digs that she’s developed a thick skin and just lets the insults ride over her. But, it did hurt at first.
    The day drags on.
    Lunch comes and goes but still no sign of Sebastien. Nobody worries as he often returns late the following day, after a night of clubbing in Ipswich. Of course Seb inevitably tries to pretend he’s spent the time making out with some hot chick or another though Dannii doubts any girl could ever be that desperate.
    But then the police arrive.
    It is around mid-afternoon, just as Xanthe and Dannii’s father are plugging in their iPods and settling down to their daily meditation hour.
    Sebastien, it transpires will never be coming home again. Well, at least not in one piece. At that very moment Sebastien is ten miles away. Lying dead at the centre of a clearing in Rendlesham Forest, surrounded only by police crime scene yellow tape and forensic investigators clad in white, disposable coveralls.
    Dannii watches, emotionlessly, as Xanthe goes to pieces and begins sobbing hysterically, while her father flaps around ineffectually. “Just as useless and lacking in any empathy for her as he is with me,” she thinks. And so it is that, after making a large pot of tea for everyone, Dannii finds herself being ushered into another room and being asked to help the police with their enquiries.
    Directly in front of her sits the senior officer: plain clothes, male, middle-aged, overweight, a detective chief inspector by rank and with just a touch of sour body odour. To his right is a uniformed officer: sergeant’s stripes, female, youngish, dyed jet-black hair, in a shade unknown to nature, scrunched back tightly to create a pony-tail-meets-Essex facelift effect. She is wearing too much mascara and has an ever-so-slightly turned up nose that reminds Dannii of a pig, which is appropriate in an inappropriate kind of way.
    The sergeant fires the first shot by asking Dannii about her relationship with the rest of the household.
    “Easy peasy,” says Dannii, “I’m the barely tolerated stepdaughter who was foisted on this household after my father divorced my mother. My father didn’t have much choice about the matter. Either take me in with his new wife or see me put into a home by social services. Thank God I got good grades and a scholarship to Uni, so I only have to tolerate them during the vacations. I’m like Harry Potter back from Hogwarts and having to spend his holidays with the Dursleys.”
    This clearly throws the two police officers, who don’t know whether to laugh or frown although it doesn’t deter DCI Plod from trying to go for the jugular with the next question.
    “You are asking me if I was jealous of Seb’s trust fund? Wow!” exclaims Dannii, “you have been doing your homework haven’t you? Or, let me guess, Seb’s reputation for being a fool with Xanthe’s first husband’s money had already come to your attention? He certainly attracted some dodgy hangers-on. Of course it would have been nice if my father had been a little more generous with me when he dumped Mum to run off with Xanthe but, hey, you can choose your friends but God picks your relatives. Besides, doesn’t the trust fund revert to Xanthe now?”
    The sergeant changes tack with the next question. “Did you and Sebastien share any interests?”
    “Incredible,” thinks Dannii to herself, “they are trying the Good Cop, Bad Cop routine. Don’t they know we’ve all seen this on TV?” before replying “No, not really. He was your typical spoilt, thick rich kid who wanted to be a party animal whereas I’m more of your geeky Goth chick who stays up half the night surfing the interwebs and listening to obscure emo bands nobody has ever heard of. Little Miss Danny-No-Mates is what Sebs calls me, I mean used to call me.”
    The two police