A chuckle.
“Alright, I suppose I’ll see him tomorrow,” she said. “It was just that he had a delivery job to do earlier and I wanted to make sure it had gone well. Know anything about it?”
“Er … yeah, I think …”
“s**t, he bolloxed it up, didn’t he?”
“Well …”
“Peter, I can tell when you’re telling pork pies. I’ll be there in bit.”
* * *
Bev was looking very business-like in a sharp black suit and high heels, her blonde hair tied back. And she looked more than somewhat pissed off.
“So, who was the i***t with the Luger?” she said. She had to raise her voice slightly as Craig’s snores were now echoing through the living room. We’d managed to get him on the sofa and left him there. We moved into the cramped kitchen and I took a can of Fosters from the fridge.
“Fancy one?”
Bev shook her
