Read Online Killing Mum_Kindle by Allan Guthrie - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Allan Guthrie
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come out to play yet.
One day, when she was older, they'd appreciate it together.
For now he'd sit here with her and she could sleep and he could enjoy his garden. He'd worked hard enough for it.
He closed his eyes after a bit, but the inside of his head was too busy. His eyes sprang open again.
"It's okay," he said when Maggie returned.
"What is?"
"The grass. Doesn't need cut. Not yet."
"Charlie," she said.
He said nothing.
"Carlos, look at me," she said.
He looked at her. He liked looking at her. She was pretty, didn't need make up. She was half his age, twice as smart. She'd gained a little weight having Sofia and it suited her. She was sexy even with baby sick on her sleeve.
She said, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He took a breath through his nose, smelled her perfume, something delicate, rising above Sofia's sweet milky smell.
"Mum spoken to you recently?" he asked.
"Only once since I told her to sober up. She phoned. Wanted to know if you'd fix her tap."
He smiled. "That again. No mention of Sofia?"
"Yeah." Maggie glanced at her feet. "Said she was sorry."
"I don't doubt it."
"Neither do I . You don't think I'm wrong, do you?" Her tongue flicked out, licked her lips. "Is that what this is about?"
"How can you think that?" He shook his head.
"So why all the interest in your mother?"
"You won't believe this," he said. He didn't believe it himself. He took hold of Maggie's hand. "Someone wants her dead."
***
His mother answered the door, eyes red-rimmed like she hadn't been sleeping. She looked like she'd just thrown her clothes on. Her cardigan was buttoned up all wrong.
" Madre ," he said. It annoyed her when he spoke Spanish.
She didn't let on, asked, "What are you doing here?"
"You still got that leaky tap?"
"The one in the bathroom?"
He shrugged.
"Well, yes," she said.
"Then I'll try to fix it."
"It's not the washer."
"Did I say it was?"
She shrugged.
He said, "I'll take a look anyway."
"Oh," she said. She straightened up, maybe realising he hadn't come here to chastise. "This is an unexpected surprise. What's brought it on?"
He looked away. "You phoned."
"That never worked before."
"Well, you've been going on about it long enough."
She peered at him down her long nose, kinked in the middle where she'd broken it on a skiing holiday, along with her leg.
"You want the tap fixed?" he said. "Or should I go?"
She folded her thin arms, nibbled her pale lower lip. "You're not working today?"
"It's slow," he said. "Left Dan to take care of things."
"Maggie said he was on holiday."
Maggie hadn't mentioned that. "You spoke about Dan?"
"I asked how things were going at the salon."
"Well, Dan's back, as of this morning."
"Must have been a short trip."
"Yeah," he said. "Couple of nights. All he could afford on the salary I pay him."
She nodded, unfolded herself, tucked her lip away. "Come on in."
***
The sitting room was a shrine to seventies bad taste. Bucket seats, white leather couch, brown and orange shag carpet and stripy psychedelic wallpaper. Reminders of her prime, no doubt.
She said, "You want coffee before you start?"
" Si," he said. Before he started what? The décor was fucking with his head, making him dizzy. Oh, yeah, fixing a leaking tap. Which he had no intention of doing. He wouldn't know where to begin.
He moved a magazine off the settee. It squeaked when he flopped down into it. Placed the magazine on top of the glass coffee table, next to the old-fashioned dial-operated red telephone, one of those models that once upon a time everybody used to have.
"You don't have any tools," she said.
"Thought I could use George's."
"I imagined you'd bring your own."
"I don't have any. I'm not a plumber."
"Right."
"You still have them?"
"You have to ask?" She disappeared into the kitchen. She shouted, "How's Maggie?"
"Good," he said.
"What? Speak up."
"Good," he said, louder.
"And Sofia?"
"Good."
"How's Sofia?"
"Great," he
One day, when she was older, they'd appreciate it together.
For now he'd sit here with her and she could sleep and he could enjoy his garden. He'd worked hard enough for it.
He closed his eyes after a bit, but the inside of his head was too busy. His eyes sprang open again.
"It's okay," he said when Maggie returned.
"What is?"
"The grass. Doesn't need cut. Not yet."
"Charlie," she said.
He said nothing.
"Carlos, look at me," she said.
He looked at her. He liked looking at her. She was pretty, didn't need make up. She was half his age, twice as smart. She'd gained a little weight having Sofia and it suited her. She was sexy even with baby sick on her sleeve.
She said, "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He took a breath through his nose, smelled her perfume, something delicate, rising above Sofia's sweet milky smell.
"Mum spoken to you recently?" he asked.
"Only once since I told her to sober up. She phoned. Wanted to know if you'd fix her tap."
He smiled. "That again. No mention of Sofia?"
"Yeah." Maggie glanced at her feet. "Said she was sorry."
"I don't doubt it."
"Neither do I . You don't think I'm wrong, do you?" Her tongue flicked out, licked her lips. "Is that what this is about?"
"How can you think that?" He shook his head.
"So why all the interest in your mother?"
"You won't believe this," he said. He didn't believe it himself. He took hold of Maggie's hand. "Someone wants her dead."
***
His mother answered the door, eyes red-rimmed like she hadn't been sleeping. She looked like she'd just thrown her clothes on. Her cardigan was buttoned up all wrong.
" Madre ," he said. It annoyed her when he spoke Spanish.
She didn't let on, asked, "What are you doing here?"
"You still got that leaky tap?"
"The one in the bathroom?"
He shrugged.
"Well, yes," she said.
"Then I'll try to fix it."
"It's not the washer."
"Did I say it was?"
She shrugged.
He said, "I'll take a look anyway."
"Oh," she said. She straightened up, maybe realising he hadn't come here to chastise. "This is an unexpected surprise. What's brought it on?"
He looked away. "You phoned."
"That never worked before."
"Well, you've been going on about it long enough."
She peered at him down her long nose, kinked in the middle where she'd broken it on a skiing holiday, along with her leg.
"You want the tap fixed?" he said. "Or should I go?"
She folded her thin arms, nibbled her pale lower lip. "You're not working today?"
"It's slow," he said. "Left Dan to take care of things."
"Maggie said he was on holiday."
Maggie hadn't mentioned that. "You spoke about Dan?"
"I asked how things were going at the salon."
"Well, Dan's back, as of this morning."
"Must have been a short trip."
"Yeah," he said. "Couple of nights. All he could afford on the salary I pay him."
She nodded, unfolded herself, tucked her lip away. "Come on in."
***
The sitting room was a shrine to seventies bad taste. Bucket seats, white leather couch, brown and orange shag carpet and stripy psychedelic wallpaper. Reminders of her prime, no doubt.
She said, "You want coffee before you start?"
" Si," he said. Before he started what? The décor was fucking with his head, making him dizzy. Oh, yeah, fixing a leaking tap. Which he had no intention of doing. He wouldn't know where to begin.
He moved a magazine off the settee. It squeaked when he flopped down into it. Placed the magazine on top of the glass coffee table, next to the old-fashioned dial-operated red telephone, one of those models that once upon a time everybody used to have.
"You don't have any tools," she said.
"Thought I could use George's."
"I imagined you'd bring your own."
"I don't have any. I'm not a plumber."
"Right."
"You still have them?"
"You have to ask?" She disappeared into the kitchen. She shouted, "How's Maggie?"
"Good," he said.
"What? Speak up."
"Good," he said, louder.
"And Sofia?"
"Good."
"How's Sofia?"
"Great," he
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