loved your father and that I liked you odious
brats. All those endless meals and tedious conversations. Well it’s over now,
Bede. The acting’s over and not a moment too soon.”
“Why?” said Bede. “Why
did you pretend all this time? Why did you set Dad up like this?”
“Because there was a lot
of money at stake. We needed a reputable front and your father was easy to
fool,” said Morana.
Bede was shocked. Who was
this woman? She looked and sounded exactly like Arlene, and seemed to know all
about the last five years when a woman called Arlene had come to live with the
de Milo family. Yet this version of her – this ‘Morana’ incarnation – was so
cruel.
“So who’s this then?”
said Bede, jerking his head towards the man sitting behind the desk. “Your boyfriend?”
He spat the word distastefully. “I guess you were screwing around behind Dad’s
back as well?”
The man behind the desk
glanced up from the map and glared at Bede with undisguised disdain.
“I’d be very careful what
I said if I were you.”
“He’s just being
melodramatic,” said Morana, explaining Bede’s outburst.
“Melodramatic?” Bede
repeated, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly the first time. “How can
you say that? How can you possibly say that, given everything that’s happened? Dad
was your husband. You loved him like Clare and I did.” He could feel his voice
wobbling as he struggled to stay in control. There would be time for crying,
but not now. Not in front of this cold bitch.
Bede took a deep breath,
preparing himself to ask the hardest question of his life. “What happened to…I
mean, where is…” Try as he might, the last few words just wouldn’t come.
“Your father’s body?”
said Morana.
Bede nodded dully.
“ Stanley took care of it. He’s what we call, our ‘Cleaner,’ aren’t you
Stanley?”
Stanley blushed with pride. He wasn’t used to receiving acknowledgement
from a woman as beautiful as Morana.
“Ahem,” said Stanley , clearing his throat, “yes, that’s
right, ‘the Cleaner’.”
“And the writing in
blood?” said Bede.
“Ah yes,” said Morana,
“again, the work of Stanley . It
certainly added a touch of authenticity, didn’t it?”
“This is so screwed up,”
said Bede. “Arlene, Dad’s dead. Your husband is dead!”
“I think we established
that about ten minutes ago,” said the man at the desk wearily. “It was a
regrettable turn of events. There is some outstanding business that I still
need to discuss with you, but right now I have some very important work I need
to finish. I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t mind waiting?” He turned towards Morana.
“Can you show our guest to the visitor’s lounge please?”
“Certainly,” Morana
smiled. “This way.” She nodded at the door on the far side of the man’s desk,
opposite the one where Bede had entered the room.
“I don’t want anything to
do with your filthy business,” said Bede, “and nor does my sister.” He turned
to Morana. “You know, my sister, Clare, your stepdaughter , the little
girl who used to look up to you? Well she actually needs me right now, so if
you don’t mind, I’ll be going.”
Bede started to backtrack
to the entry, only to find that Stanley was blocking the doorway. Bede turned to Morana with a confused
expression.
“It’s not really an invitation, Bede. Like Demarge says,” she nodded
towards the man sitting behind the desk, “he still needs to have a little talk
with you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind following me?” Her question was clearly
rhetorical.
“What choice, do I have?”
said Bede, irritated by Morana’s faux politeness.
He began following her
towards the door on the far side of the room, his feet dragging in a residual
show of protest. There had to be a way of getting out of there. Whatever the
weird guy in black had to say to him, Bede was pretty sure he didn’t want to
hear it. Morana had almost reached the door to the
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