Read Crime Writers and Other Animals for Free Online Page A

been so much in the newspapers and on television that everyone in the country knows she’s called Bethany Jones.
    I met her in the park, like the other children. She was six – just been six, just had her sixth birthday party, she was very proud of that. She lived quite near the park, over the other side from my house. Her parents didn’t like her going to the children’s playground on her own, but she was so close she used to sneak out when they weren’t looking.
    That’s when I’d met her. And we’d talk about Children’s BBC. She didn’t call me ‘Eddie’. She used to call me ‘Fat Boy’, which I suppose could have been cruel, but I didn’t mind it from Bethany. She didn’t mean any harm. That’s what they said in the papers. Her mother said, ‘Bethany never did any harm to anyone.’
    I didn’t know what had happened to Bethany before the police arrived. I don’t read a paper or watch the news – well, except for
Newsround
on Children’s BBC. And that’s on at five, and she wasn’t found till four-thirty, so they’d have been hard pushed to get it on that day’s programme. Anyway,
Newsround
wouldn’t have covered a story like Bethany Jones’s. It was too unpleasant for a children’s audience.
    The police arrived very quickly. Children’s BBC had just ended, at five thirty-five as usual, and
Neighbours
was starting. Sometimes I watch
Neighbours
and sometimes I don’t. It’s not proper Children’s BBC, though I know a lot of children watch it. As for me, I’ll watch it if I like the story. If there’s too much kissing and that sort of thing, I’ll switch it off. I don’t like stories with kissing in them. I never saw Papa and Mama kiss, and the thought of people doing it sort of like in public, on the television . . . well, I don’t think it’s very nice.
    The day the police arrived, there wasn’t a kissing story in
Neighbours
and I was watching it. And videoing it, obviously. I video everything I watch. I had to switch off the television when the police came in. But I left the video running.
    The first thing the police asked me was if I knew Bethany and I said, yes, of course I did. And they said they had been talking to some of the other children and was I the ‘Eddie’ who used to give them jelly babies, and I said, yes, I was.
    There was one of them, the policemen, who seemed to be in charge. He was not wearing a uniform and he was very forceful. Detective Inspector Bracken he was called. Not the sort of person you’d argue with. He reminded me of Papa, and in the same way that I’d never have contradicted Papa, I found it difficult to stand up to this man and say he was wrong, even when the suggestions he was making were absolutely untrue. It seemed rather rude for me to disagree with him.
    â€˜And did you ever give jelly babies to Bethany?’ Detective Inspector Bracken demanded.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course I did. I like Bethany. She’s one of my friends.’
    â€˜So she was one of your friends, was she?’
    â€˜
Is
one of my friends,’ I said. ‘
Is
one of my friends.’
    Detective Inspector Bracken looked at me thoughtfully. But his expression wasn’t just thoughtful. There was something else in it too, something that almost looked like distaste. He kept on looking at me.
    I suddenly remembered that the police were guests in my house and I hadn’t even offered them anything. (‘Black mark, Edmund,’ Papa would have said. ‘Black mark on the hospitality front.’) ‘Could I get you some tea or something?’ I asked. ‘Something to eat, perhaps? I often have buttered toast with golden syrup round this time. Maybe you’d like—?’
    â€˜No, thank you,’ said Detective Inspector Bracken. And he kept on looking straight at me. I found it embarrassing. I