Free The Most Frightening Story Ever Told by Philip Kerr

for several minutes before handing the boy an important-looking envelope with the letters “IRS” on it.
    As the mailwoman walked out of the door, a girl walked in and gave the place a dim once-over before approaching the cash register and Billy. Her face was pretty and round with big eyes, only she was dressed older than she looked. She was wearing jeans and a skirt, a hoodie and a pair of sneakers. Over her shoulder was a fisherman’s bag and on her head was a green cap with a picture of Che Guevara.
    “Hi,” she said brightly. “Is my dad around?”
    Billy shook his head.
    “Good,” she said.
    “You must be Altaira,” said Billy. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
    The girl winced. “Nobody calls me that.”
    “What do they call you?” asked Billy.
    “Redford,” said the girl. “Like the famous movie star.”
    “Sounds a bit like your dad’s name,” said Billy. “Rexford?”
    “That’s not why I chose it,” she said stiffly.
    “But isn’t that a man’s name?” asked Billy.
    “I don’t think that sort of thing matters, do you?” She wasn’t looking for an answer to the question. “Names aren’t gender specific. Not anymore. There are models who call themselves Kelly, soccer players called Silvinho and basketball stars called Amar’e and LeBron.”
    “I guess you’re right.” Billy shrugged. “My name is Billy,” he said. “It’s short for William. Your dad stepped out for half an hour to go to the bank.”
    Redford pulled a face. “You look kind of young to be working in a place like this.”
    “I’m just helping him out. I’m a volunteer. An intern.”
    “That sounds just like my dad. Get someone to work for him without paying them any money. What a cheapskate. You’re being taken advantage of, do you know that? In case you didn’t notice, this place isn’t a charity shop. They do expect to try and turn a profit, you know.”
    “Actually, it was my idea for me to work here,” said Billy.
    “I doubt that. You’ve no idea how devious he can be.”
    “No, really. In the beginning he was against the idea. He took quite a bit of persuading. And I’m the same age as you, Altaira. I mean, Redford. Besides, it’s not a bar, it’s a bookshop.”
    Redford gave the shop a withering look. “Really? You could have fooled me.” She shook her head. “Who buys all this junk, anyway? No, wait, I’ll tell you. No one. There’s a layer of dust on some of these books that’s as thick as an old encyclopedia.”
    “As a matter of fact, we have lots of regular customers. There’s Father Merrin, of course. Miss Danvers. Dr. Saki. Mr. Stoker. Mr. Quiller-Couch. Mr. Pu Sung Ling. Miss Maupassant. Montague James.”
    Redford laughed scornfully. “I’ve seen them. Those aren’t customers. They’re just creeps and losers who come in here to get out of the rain, or because there’s nowhere else for them to go in Hitchcock. Most of them are even too weird for the library, and that’s saying something. Nobody ever actually buys a book in here. They sell more stuff in a funeral parlor.”
    “That’s a little harsh,” said Billy.
    She turned and walked back to the door.
    “Do you want to leave your dad a message?” said Billy.
    “No,” she said. “Why would I want to do that? Besides, haven’t you heard of texts? Email? If I wanted to send him a message, I certainly wouldn’t trust a mere intern to do it.”
    “Then I don’t understand. You said you were glad he wasn’t around and you don’t want to leave a message. So why did you come in here?”
    “You ask a lot of questions for a volunteer, do you know that?”
    “I don’t mean to pry,” said Billy. “You’re right. It’s none of my business.”
    Redford winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I guess I just wanted to know that he’s still alive.”
    “You’re very like him, you know,” said Billy. “Tough on the outside. Not so tough on the inside, perhaps.”
    Redford Rapscallion rolled her eyes.