Page 78 of Final Betrayal

‘Maybe he went out for something to eat.’ He looked up at her. ‘I’m kind of peckish myself. Fancy anything?’ Then he grinned.

‘Perhaps later.’ She smiled back at him. Maybe the day would improve. Maybe not.

‘How are you doing, Mrs D?’ Tony said, sticking his head into the sitting room and just as quickly extracting it. ‘What’s that whiff?’ he said to Conor.

‘Shh. She’s in a foul mood.’ Conor switched on the kettle and shook the milk carton to make sure it wasn’t sour.

‘Foul smell, if you ask me.’

‘I didn’t ask, so shut up.’ He placed two mugs on the table. ‘What happened after I left?’

‘What are you whispering for?’ Tony said. ‘Oh-oh. You haven’t said anything to Mommy dearest?’

‘No, I haven’t, and she won’t have to know if you keep your gob shut.’ Conor eased the door closed with his boot.

‘I’ll have a cup of whatever you’re making.’ His mother’s voice was still audible from the sitting room. Conor ignored her and sat at the table.

Tony eyed him expectantly. ‘Go on. What did the detective want? Nice set of legs on her. I like them skinny. How about you?’

‘Shut up, Tony. She’s a pig. And she’s the one who got me put away.’

‘Thought it was the witnesses who did that.’

‘Those two little bitches.’ If he was still in prison, Conor would have spat on the floor, but he thought better of it and kept his mouth closed.

‘Two little bitches who are now dead.’ Tony attempted to fold his arms over his girth, but gave up and placed his hands in his lap.

‘Yeah, well, your skinny-legged detective thinks I might have had something to do with it.’

‘Really?’ Tony dropped his eyes, and Conor noticed the colour rise up his cheeks.

‘Afraid to be friends with me now that I could be a serial killer?’

‘No. Not at all. Jesus, man. This is all … too weird.’

Seeing Tony at a loss for words, Conor realised how serious the situation could get. If Inspector Parker was out to pin these murders on him, how was he going to stop her? He’d need Tony on his side.

‘For your information, I didn’t kill them.’

‘Where’s me tea?’ His mother’s voice had risen to a screech.

‘Coming.’ Conor threw a tea bag into a mug. ‘Here, you bring it in to her,’ he told Tony.

‘Ah man. I’ll puke my ring up. Can you not smell it?’

‘Oh, fuck off then.’

Taking a biscuit from an opened packet, he brought it with the tea to his mother.

‘What about a plate?’

Biting down a retort, he went back for one, then returned to sit with Tony.

‘She’s doing my head in,’ he complained, grabbing a biscuit from the pack before Tony ate them all. ‘What about the body in the tunnel?’ he said, anxious to change the subject.

‘What about it?’ Tony said, crumbs sticking to his stubble.

‘Is Cleary going to report it? What happened after I left?’

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