Free Speak No Evil by Martyn Waites

ya.’
    Tess didn’t want to leave it there. She couldn’t, not when she’d just had a way in. And if Pez wasn’t talking …
    â€˜Hey,’ she called to the other boy. ‘What’s your name?’
    The boy turned. ‘Renny.’ Spoken like it was an act of defiance.
    â€˜Well Renny, how’d you like to make some money?’
    â€˜Fuck off.’
    That wasn’t the answer Tess had been expecting. She would have to try harder. Turn on that old Tess charm. Would work even on him.
    â€˜No need for that, Renny. Pez was just telling me how great a mate Calvin was. And I bet he was a mate of yours too.’
    â€˜So?’
    Jesus. Arguing with a schoolkid. ‘Well, his two best mates? Telling the story of what happened to their poor friend that night? Together? There’ll be a lot of money in it for you. A lot.’
    Renny frowned. Tess had him, she knew. ‘How much?’
    â€˜Well, that depends on what you have to tell me. Pez said he was there last night when Calvin died. If that’s the case, and you were there as well, then we’re talking thousands. Thousands.’
    Some of the anger fell away from Renny’s face. But wariness remained. ‘What do we have to do for this?’
    â€˜You tell me. Take me to where you all were. Show me round. The spots you hang out, the place where he died. All that.’
    â€˜When?’
    Tess shrugged, smiled. ‘No time like the present.’
    Renny said nothing, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he spoke a smile played on the corners of his mouth. ‘Later.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Now’s no good. It’ll have to be later. When it’s dark, like.’
    â€˜Fine. You’re the boss. Whatever you say. When and where?’
    Renny looked around, considering it. ‘Here. Nine o’clock.’
    â€˜It’s a deal.’ Tess could already see the headlines and, more importantly, the byline.
    â€˜How much?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜How much you payin’ us?’
    She thought of a figure she could get away with. ‘A grand.’
    â€˜Fuck off.’
    â€˜Each.’
    â€˜Fuck off.’
    Tess tried not to let her exasperation show. These people were the first to complain about chequebook journalism and trading on misery to sell papers, but they complained all the harder if they didn’t think you’d paid them enough.
    â€˜Two grand, then.’
    â€˜Each.’
    â€˜All right, two grand each.’ Her editor would be well fucked off. ‘But it better be worth it.’
    Renny grinned. It wasn’t entirely pleasant. ‘It will be. And bring the money with you. Cash. If you don’t you can fuck off. An’ we’re takin’ you nowhere.’
    â€˜OK. What if I bring half the money and when you’ve given me the guided tour and I’ve interviewed you both you get the other half?’
    Renny furrowed his brow again. Nodded. ‘All right.’
    â€˜Deal.’
    Tess extended her hand. Thought that would be the kind of thing the locals would like. Renny shook it.
    â€˜Nine o’clock,’ she said and the two boys walked away.
    Tess watched them go, smiling to herself. Not bad, she thought. Not a bad bit of business if they came up with the goods.
    Then another thought struck her. Shit. She would actually have to pay this time.
    Or at least, pay half.
    Jack Smeaton turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door as slowly as possible, his hand away from the edge as if expecting it to slam shut and take his fingers off. It swung open. He looked down the hallway. No sound. He didn’t know if that was a good sign or not.
    He had been expecting another row. Rob shouting at his mother. Drunk and angry. Or Anne Marie tearfully screaming that he didn’t understand her. The usual thing. Then things being thrown around. Then silence. Then, eventually, laughter as they come down, cuddle up with each