Death of a Perfect Mother by Robert Barnard Page A

said Gordon quickly, ‘your role is to be my alibi. Your health doesn’t matter. You haven’t got to do anything.’
    â€˜It sounds a bit feeble,’ complained Brian.
    â€˜What’s the point of all this training I do if I can’t even kill off my own mother? It’s got to be one of us, not both, and obviously I’m the fit one.’ He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I’m even giving up smoking tomorrow—for the duration. Yours is the brainy bit. You’ve got to convince the police I was in the pub the whole evening, except for the odd minute in the bog. You’ve got to have it off pat, the whole story.’
    â€˜What about if Lill opens her big mouth and draws attention to it, like she did on Saturday?’
    â€˜We’ve got to make damn sure she doesn’t.’ Gordon lay on his back, looking darkly at the ceiling. ‘I’ve been thinking about it. I think we could work it like this: if I slip off a couple of minutes before Lill’s due to go, and say “I’m just nipping over to have a word with John” or Chris or whoever happens to be in the pub that night —“see you at supper”, then she won’t comment on my not being there. And I’ll make sure I do have a word with them some time in the evening, in case anyone asks. Either just before or just after.’
    â€˜You’ve got to be careful just after,’ said Brian. ‘I’ve read about the physical effects of murdering someone. It makes you want to—’
    â€˜I know it makes you want to—well, that’s what Lill’s done to me all her life.’
    â€˜Just be careful. Even if you’re only a bit jittery, people notice things. You’d better just come back to the table and talk to me . . . What are you going to do it with? Not your hands?’
    â€˜No,’ said Gordon. ‘Though I could. But it’s too risky. I’ll use rope. I can get a short bit from work.’
    â€˜They’d be able to trace the type.’
    â€˜It’s common stuff. You can buy it anywhere.’
    â€˜Why not just hit her on the head?’
    â€˜It might not kill her, not with that thick skull. If I hit her several times, there’d probably be blood. That’s one thing I can’t risk, blood . . . Anyway,’ he added slowly, ‘I don’t think it would give me the same pleasure.’ A smile was on his full lips.
    â€˜You’re really looking forward to this, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Yeah, baby brother, I’m looking forward to it.’ He looked mockingly at Brian across the bare length of their room. ‘Aren’t you? Touch of the cold feet?’
    â€˜No,’ said Brian carefully. ‘No. But if I was actually doing it . . . The alibi business, that’s a piece of cake. I’ll enjoy that. The other, the . . . strangling, I don’t know if I could. She’s our mother.’ He swallowed. ‘When it comes down to it, I don’t suppose she’s meant any harm.’
    â€˜Christ, you bloody intellectuals,’ hissed Gordon through his teeth. ‘You never go straight at a thing, do you? Never meant any harm? What else has she ever meant? In twenty years you’ll be toasting her on the anniversary of all this with tears in your eyes: “To the finest Mum a man ever had!” ’
    â€˜Don’t be daft . . .’
    â€˜And in twenty years, I’ll join you.’

CHAPTER 5
TUESDAY
    Lill’s life changed course somewhat on Tuesday, though by no means as drastically as it was to later in the week. The day began in the usual way, with the family crawling reluctantly out of their beds, quarrelling over the bathroom and loo, slouching down to breakfast half asleep (a good job, really, because the poached eggs were hard as stones), and gradually dispersing themselves in their various directions.