Read Online Glass by Alex Christofi - Free Book Online

to ‘smoke the rabbit out of the hole’, as the neighbour put it.
    The Dorman Affair was perhaps my first inkling that I’d make a good private detective, although if anyone ever wanted to compile a comprehensive survey of the masturbation habits of teenage boys, I’m sorry to say I could do that too.
    Around the time I was called as a witness for the Dorman divorce hearing, I got a phone call from an unknown number.
    â€˜Glass Cleaning, how can I help?’
    â€˜Günter?’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Oh good. Dean Winterbottom here. I was wondering if you might like to come over for a cup of tea? We have some wonderful loose-leaf Darjeeling in at the moment. Best served without milk.’
    â€˜I’m all booked up this week,’ I said, looking at my diary.
    â€˜I quite understand. However, it is rather pressing. I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but we don’t want to have to close the cathedral.’
    I thought about telling her I’d already found a job, but a part of me was still intrigued.
    â€˜Are you free this evening?’ I asked.
    â€˜Always free, my dear, always free. God is a freelance.’
    â€˜Okay, I’ll pop over around six.’
    I went downstairs to make an early dinner for Dad, and found him sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of whisky.
    â€˜Fish fingers again, I’m afraid,’ I said, opening the freezer.
    â€˜I can’t eat now.’
    â€˜You’ve got to eat something.’
    â€˜Sit down and have a whisky.’
    I went and sat with him. He filled up his glass and nodded to himself.
    â€˜You’re a real man now, with your job. You’re independent. You must be making some proper money now, eh? You’ll probably move out soon. No use in worrying.’
    â€˜Look, Dad, if it’s about my cooking, I can learn. We both can.’
    He drew his hand down over his face, like he was wiping an Etch-a-sketch.
    â€˜Look, if you want to stay here, I might have to start charging rent. I can’t keep supporting you. All I’ve got’s my pension, and it’s smaller than the mortgage. So the longer I live, the more I owe.’
    â€˜That’s okay, I can help to clear it,’ I said. ‘The window cleaning is going well, and I have a couple of hundred pounds left from my redundancy.’
    â€˜We’re talking about thousands of pounds of debt, Günter. The bank won’t give me any more money.’
    â€˜Oh. What about Max?’
    â€˜Tight as a bunny’s arse.’
    I looked up at the wall clock. It was quarter to six.
    â€˜I’ve got to run, but we’ll talk about this later. Eat something.’
    â€˜Thanks for your concern,’ he said, eyeing the whisky bottle, ‘but I’ll start what I’ve finished.’

8
    Miracle Worker
    I arrived at the cathedral a little late. The sun was hitting one side of the building, casting a long shadow which pointed out east like a giant sundial. I walked in through the main entrance, where tourists were milling around, some of them dragging children or dogs.
    I went through to the back where the little office was, and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I opened the door to find a young reverend goggling at a computer screen. Statistically, it was likely to be either a video of a cute animal or pornography.
    â€˜Evensong was at half five,’ he said without looking up.
    â€˜I’m looking for Dean Winterbottom,’ I said.
    â€˜Who are you?’ he asked.
    â€˜Günter Glass.’
    â€˜Anne!’ he shouted, still staring at the screen. I very much wanted to see what was on the screen.
    Dean Winterbottom came through from the kitchenette, looking quite radiant.
    â€˜Sorry I didn’t hear you come in, my dear, I was just feeding Moses.’ I must have looked bemused, because she explained, ‘Our cat. I found him a few months back wandering around outside. He looked lost, and