Girl A, Dan Scottow [best short books to read .TXT] 📗

was made of paper. She screamed, managing to catch herself on the handrail, which came away from the wall. Fortunately, she had regained her balance already. She gulped, eyes shooting to Kieran.

‘Careful. Don’t wanna be taking you home to your mum in bits.’ He giggled.

Kitty continue to climb the stairs, sticking to the perimeter. When she reached the top, she crawled carefully along the floor. From this new position she could see the area was even larger than she had initially thought. She made her way to the outer edge, glancing down from time to time through holes in rotting floorboards. It looked much higher from where she was now situated than it had from the ground.

Peering down at Kieran on the other side of the ballroom, it amazed her how small, how insignificant he seemed in the space. Like a tiny insect.

‘Woah, it is so cool up here!’ she shouted.

‘Oh wait up!’ he replied, running over to the steps.

He ascended the staircase, taking his time, having already seen Kitty nearly go through.

‘Stick close to the wall, it’s safer!’ she warned.

Once he reached the top, he stood, rather than crawled, probably to prove to Kitty that he wasn’t scared. He edged along towards her. As he took a step into the centre, the whole structure wobbled. Kitty screamed, clutching frantically at the edge of the balcony. Kieran took another step forward; his foot went straight through the plasterboard. He fell to all fours, and again the floor trembled. Rubble and dust tumbled to the ground.

‘Kieran, don’t! Get down. You’re too heavy!’ Kitty screeched fearfully.

‘But I want to see!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll crawl, like you did.’

‘No! You’re too big! Please!’

Kieran’s face crumpled, but he obeyed, descending the stairs tentatively.

‘How high do you think this is?’ Kitty wondered aloud.

‘Dunno. Pretty high.’

‘Do you think I would die if I jumped from up here?’

‘Yeah. Probably. Depends how you landed. Give it a go.’

Kitty dangled her legs over the ledge, swinging them playfully. She shuffled her buttocks forward until she was perched on the outermost edge. For a moment, Kieran looked like he believed she might actually do it.

‘I’d like to push my dad from up here,’ she said, brushing some dirt from her dress, absent-mindedly.

‘Your dad would never get up there. He’s definitely too fat.’

Kitty crawled back to the stairs and joined Kieran on the ground, where he was drawing lines in the dirt with a stick he’d found.

‘He’s a bad man,’ Kieran said quietly, without looking at Kitty.

Kitty remained silent, nodding slowly.

‘We should kill him,’ Kieran continued. He shot her a sideways glance.

‘Yeah. I wish. I hate him.’

‘Let’s do it!’ Kieran had a wicked grin on his face. ‘We could leave him for the foxes to eat.’

‘Do foxes eat people?’

‘Course they do. They eat anything. They’re wild!’

‘I wish somebody would kill my dad.’

They both stood, staring at the ground. Kieran took Kitty’s hand in his.

‘I would do it, if he wasn’t so big,’ Kieran said, sticking out his chest like Superman.

‘But we’re too small. If he was little we could do it. Like that cat,’ Kitty replied. They looked at each other, bursting into laughter.

‘Come on,’ Kieran said eventually. ‘This is boring. Let’s go.’

He dropped her hand, running away into the darkness.

42 Brighton, East Sussex, England.

The detective sat staring at Charlie, notebook in hand, pen poised, ready to write.

‘So in your own time, Mr Carter. If you could tell us about the perfume?’

Charlie cleared his throat.

‘It’s like I told Derek at the office. It was sent in. We get stuff sent in from clients frequently, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary.’

‘I see,’ said the detective, who had identified herself as DI Burns. ‘Was there anything distinguishing about the envelope?’

‘No. Nothing. It was just a brown jiffy bag. Nothing suspicious.’

‘Printed?’

Charlie hesitated. ‘No, handwritten.’

‘Okay. What was the writing like?’

‘It was… handwriting. Black pen. I don’t know what else to say.’

‘And you told your boss you threw it away, is that right?’

‘Yep. Straight in the recycling bin with all the other rubbish. That gets emptied every day a few times. We get through a lot.’

The detective scribbled some notes down on her pad.

‘And how did the perfume come to be in the possession of Ellie Beeson?’

‘I gave it to her.’

‘Right. Why?’ Burns’ dark-brown eyes surveyed Charlie coldly. Watching. Waiting for him to slip up. As he returned her gaze, taking in her muscular physique, and rather masculine looking attire, he suspected his charms were not going to have any effect on her. Beth would probably have more luck.

‘Because she asked for it,’ he replied, regretting his choice of words immediately.

The detective glanced at Charlie’s wedding ring.

‘You didn’t think your wife would want it?’

‘My wife?’

‘You are married?’ She nodded towards Charlie’s hand.

‘Yes, I am. But we’re… I suppose we’re separated… at the moment.’

‘You suppose?’

‘We are. We’re separated.’

‘Since when?’

‘Is that relevant?’

‘I’m trying to get the bigger picture here, Mr Carter.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Since… the weekend.’

‘Right. So this is a new thing?’

‘Yes. So that’s why I didn’t take the perfume. Not much use to me. The girl… Ellie, she asked if she could have it, so I gave it to her.’

‘I see.’

More note-scribbling. Charlie wished he could see what she was writing.

‘How is she?’

The detective looked up.

‘She’s stable. She’s obviously distraught. The substance caused considerable damage to her skin. It’s not particularly pleasant for her.’

Charlie swallowed. Why did he feel like he was being interrogated? He hadn’t done anything.

‘Do you know what it was yet?’

‘Sulphuric acid. Probably common DIY-store drain cleaner. You can pick it up anywhere for a few quid. Nasty stuff in the wrong hands.’

She looked up from her pad, making eye contact with Charlie. Her face deadpan. Her cocoa-brown skin smooth, reflecting the sunlight that streamed in through the window.

‘Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, Mr Carter? Anything that might help us?’

Charlie shook his head.

‘Nothing?’

‘No.’

‘Right. We will have the bottle sent to forensics. Hopefully, we’ll be able to lift a print from it, or some other DNA. Should shed a little