Read THE DOMINO BOYS (a psychological thriller) for Free Online

current took her further away from the shore? And now he was planning on abandoning her altogether, abandoning them all and going to Spain. Live the good life on his police pension while he was going to be left with nothing…
    Alfie glanced at Barry, understood that all was not right. He was up tight. It’s how he went – up and down like the weather. He thought he’d better lighten things up a bit. ‘Here you are…’ he said, tossing three bits of card onto the table.
    ‘What’s this?’ said Duncan, who was blissfully unaware of Barry’s edginess.
    ‘Tickets to our latest production,’ he said, beaming.
    ‘Thought you said you were giving up the amateur dramatics,’ said Barry, his attention duly diverted as he snatched up the ticket.
    ‘One each for you and the wife,’ said Alfie. ‘Treat yourself. Have a night out at the Town Hall on me. This is our production of An Inspector Calls . It’s going to be quite good, you know. We’ve attracted some good actors coming over from Sheffield for some of the parts, and not just older people either. Got some young kids looking to get involved.’
    Duncan smiled. The Overthorpe Amateur Players – or OAPs for short. They used to rib Alfie about this, and that he secretly yearned to be a luvvie, but Alfie being Alfie he’d always shrug it off good-humouredly. ‘Thanks, Alfie,’ he said, popping the two tickets into his top pocket.
    ‘Final rehearsals and then we hit the stage!’ said Alfie. ‘Mind you, we’re struggling to keep going; we used to get a small arts grant from the council, but that’s been cut. Unless we can raise some cash the OAPs will have to fold. Shame, because it’s been going for thirty-five years now. No one cares about the arts these days and what it can do for a community.’
    Barry nodded his thanks. He doubted whether his wife would be bothered with watching a bunch of am-dram queens. The OAP productions were notoriously corny, and she always said she preferred the telly anyway, but he smiled his gratitude all the same. Alfie meant well. He always did. The one person Barry could call a true friend. Didn’t make any judgements, accepted him for what he was. You don’t get nice guys like Alfie Parker anymore, he thought. It also bothered Barry that he’d once tried out for the OAPs, just for something different to do, and he secretly rather fancied himself as Clint Eastwood, but Alfie was the one that had to tell him he wasn’t cut out to be an actor, not even in amateur dramatics – they had a standard to maintain, after all – but he could help out with tickets and the like. Barry was real miffed about that, stormed off in a huff and never went back.
    Sensing Barry was cooling down, the impending crisis averted, Alfie began to sift through his dominoes.
    Then they heard a noise outside the door, a bit of an altercation at the bar. A barrage of eager voices. The door to their small room burst open. They all turned to look to see what the fuss was about.
    And Mickey Craddick was standing in the doorway.
    ‘Christ Almighty!’ said Barry, his mouth dropping open.
    ‘Hello, boys,’ said the young man, sweeping confidently into the room.
    Pete the landlord was close at his back. ‘I’m sorry, guys…’ he said
    The man, aged about twenty-five, was the spitting image of Mickey Craddick as he was in his younger days, and waltzed up to their table with all his calm arrogance. He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the three men. Two other men, about the same age, barged past Pete into the room. Their faces were red, eyes wide with mischief, betraying a previous consumption of alcohol.
    ‘The Domino Boys,’ said the young man. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’
    ‘This room’s been booked,’ said Pete. ‘This is a private party.’
    ‘Private party?’ He laughed.
    ‘Who are you?’ asked Duncan. But he didn’t need telling.
    ‘Donnie Craddick.’
    ‘Are you Mickey’s son?’ said Alfie aghast. ‘We