Read Online Martyn Pig by Kevin Brooks - Free Book Online Page B

number was 4514.
    Morse would have made something of that.
    Then the rain started again. I don’t mind the rain. In fact, I like it. I like the way it pours down from the sky and makes everybody wet and panicky. I think it’s funny. But this was something else. This was BIG rain. It was coming down in buckets. Pounding on the window. Gusting against the glass. Louder and louder. It wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was so loud. So insistent. Pounding, pounding rain. Louder and louder and louder, like a thousand angry fingers rapping on the window.
    I couldn’t stand it.
    I put the cashcard back in the bureau, went to my room and closed all the curtains. Then I got into bed, pulled the duvet over my head and waited for the rain to stop.
    I wasn’t expecting Alex until later that evening so it was a pleasant surprise to hear the doorbell ring just after six o’clock. Even through the fluted glass in the front door her face was beautiful. Beautiful in distortion, like an angel in a hall of mirrors. I was smiling to myself as I opened the door – and then Dean stepped out from behind the wall, grinning, and my smile vanished.
    â€˜Hey, Pigman.’
    I stared at his unhealthy white skin, his baggy eyes, his stupid ponytail hanging down from his stupid fat head. I stared at his motorbike jacket, shiny black leather, too-clean, too-new, and his black leather trousers, baggy at the knees. I stared at the big black motorcycle helmet dangling from his hand, swinging gently, streetlights reflecting in its dark shine.
    I stared at Alex. Dressed, like Dean, in black leather, with a crash helmet in her hand. How could you? I thought. How
could
you?
    She looked down at her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Martyn.’
    What?
What?
Sorry? What do you mean, sorry? Sorry?
Sorry
?
    Dean stepped up to the door and I went to close it.
    â€˜I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he said.
    The sound of his voice made me sick.
    â€˜He knows,’ said Alex.
    â€˜
What?
’
    â€˜He knows, Martyn. About your dad.’
    Something uncontrollable welled up inside me. Like a hurricane. A whirlwind of unwanted emotions. She’d betrayed me. She, Alex.
Alex
. She’d
betrayed
me.
Me
. Can you imagine that? Can you
feel
it?
    Dean whistled a low whistle, shook his head and grinned a cocky grin. ‘Unbelievable,’ he said. ‘Kids today, I don’t know. No respect for their elders.’
    Alex was staring at me now, her eyes begging me to understand. And, strangely, I did. In an instant. I understood. She was scared. But not of me. Of him. She was scared of Dean. We were still in this together. Me and Alex.
    Something inside me clicked off and the hurricane retreated.
    I stepped back and opened the door.
    â€˜You’d better come in.’
    â€˜This is ridiculous, Martyn. All of it. It’s ridiculous …’
    The mini-tape recorder whirred quietly on the kitchen table. I listened, dumbstruck, to the sound of Alex’s voice.
    â€˜You can’t go on like this. You’ve got to call the police. You can’t just pretend that nothing’s happened.’
    And then the sound of my own voice; oddly unfamiliar.
    â€˜It’s not that easy.’
    â€˜Oh, come on. Nobody’s going to blame you for your dad’s death. It was an accident. You didn’t mean it. The police will understand that. All you’ve got to do is tell them what happened.’
    Dean smiled and pressed the fast forward button. I stared, transfixed, as the tape recorder’s tiny wheels whizzed around. I heard the scrape of a match and looked up as Dean lit a cigarette.
    â€˜Want one?’ he said.
    I didn’t answer. The smell of the smoke reminded me of Dad. The tape played on.
    â€˜Maybe we could just put him somewhere.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜Just put him somewhere. Somewhere he won’t be found.’
    â€˜Put him somewhere? What do you