later in the evening. “Of course, everything was going swimmingly until I put my size ten in it, telling her I thought Angry Thomas Blackburn was her son.”
“You weren’t to know. Besides, it’s no longer a big deal, the age gap. Is it? Look at us.” Naomi grinned. “What exactly was her young lover in jail for?”
“Manslaughter. He killed a fellow drinker in a brawl, four years ago. Beat him to death with a bottle of wine. The parole board believed he was a reformed character, and released him, three months ago.” A cynical smile appeared on Karl’s face. “If he’s reformed now, I’d hate bumping into him down a dark alley. He’s like a prowling testosterone-induced lion. Apparently, while in prison, he was on very friendly terms with a gentleman who likes his sausage dipped in ice-cream.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a sick joke.”
“What did Margaret Boland tell you about her late husband?”
“Jekyll and Hyde. That’s how she described him. More Hyde than Jekyll, actually. When she indicated she was leaving him, a few years ago, he shoved a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger, telling her the next time there would be no empty chamber. But why would she go from one extreme to the other? A prison officer to prisoner? Doesn’t make sense.”
“The ultimate revenge, no doubt. From what you’ve said, Wesley Milligan wasn’t the nicest of people, physically and mentally abusing her for years. This was her way of getting back at him – big time. She went full circle against all that he stood for. Hell hath no fury is a mitigating factor. If you ask my personal opinion, she should have waited until the bastard was sleeping, then sliced his balls off.”
Karl instinctively felt his crotch, making a cringing face, as if feeling the pain. “Don’t mince your words, whatever you do. You sound like one of the characters from one of my yet-unpublished novels.”
“Okay. Perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but she should have stuck the gun in
his
mouth, checked that the chamber
wasn’t
empty, shot him twice for good measure.”
“Someone did shoot him – though three, not two times. Where were you on the night of his murder?”
“Shacked up with an old perv, twice my age. When did she finally find the courage to leave the bastard?”
“Last year, according to her. Same time as Angry Thomas came into her life.”
“Oh …”
“Oh, indeed. The very word that entered my head when she told me. Very convenient. Apparently, she had been doing some charity work, and was asked to do a workshop for an ex-prisoners group. She claims she was reluctant at the beginning, but decided to give it a go. Before she knew it, she was on the road to Damascus – though she probably meant the M1, heading in the direction of Woodbank prison.”
“You think her young lover was involved in the killing of Milligan, that somehow she manipulated him into it?”
“The more I hear about Milligan, the more I’m inclined to detest the man – dead or not. Was Angry Thomas involved? It’s not implausible …”
Karl suddenly noticed the large envelope leaning drunkenly against a lamp on the far table.
“That looks familiar.”
“It came when you were out …” Reluctantly, Naomi handed Karl the envelope.
Three chapters from his latest manuscript, returned, its wrapper barely disturbed.
“By the looks of things, the bastards didn’t even open it,” said Karl, throwing the envelope on the sofa. “Good job I’ve the skin of a rhino.”
Naomi kissed him gently on the cheek. “Could have fooled me. Besides, perhaps it never reached its destination? You know what the postal service is like. Remember getting that Christmas card in July?”
Karl smiled. “You’re a darling, a net for when I fall. You shall be richly rewarded with a drink. Get your coat, my dear. The meeting with Margaret Boland, coupled with my rejected manuscript has left me dejected. Time to wallow in self-pity. Let’s head to
Billy
“You weren’t to know. Besides, it’s no longer a big deal, the age gap. Is it? Look at us.” Naomi grinned. “What exactly was her young lover in jail for?”
“Manslaughter. He killed a fellow drinker in a brawl, four years ago. Beat him to death with a bottle of wine. The parole board believed he was a reformed character, and released him, three months ago.” A cynical smile appeared on Karl’s face. “If he’s reformed now, I’d hate bumping into him down a dark alley. He’s like a prowling testosterone-induced lion. Apparently, while in prison, he was on very friendly terms with a gentleman who likes his sausage dipped in ice-cream.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a sick joke.”
“What did Margaret Boland tell you about her late husband?”
“Jekyll and Hyde. That’s how she described him. More Hyde than Jekyll, actually. When she indicated she was leaving him, a few years ago, he shoved a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger, telling her the next time there would be no empty chamber. But why would she go from one extreme to the other? A prison officer to prisoner? Doesn’t make sense.”
“The ultimate revenge, no doubt. From what you’ve said, Wesley Milligan wasn’t the nicest of people, physically and mentally abusing her for years. This was her way of getting back at him – big time. She went full circle against all that he stood for. Hell hath no fury is a mitigating factor. If you ask my personal opinion, she should have waited until the bastard was sleeping, then sliced his balls off.”
Karl instinctively felt his crotch, making a cringing face, as if feeling the pain. “Don’t mince your words, whatever you do. You sound like one of the characters from one of my yet-unpublished novels.”
“Okay. Perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but she should have stuck the gun in
his
mouth, checked that the chamber
wasn’t
empty, shot him twice for good measure.”
“Someone did shoot him – though three, not two times. Where were you on the night of his murder?”
“Shacked up with an old perv, twice my age. When did she finally find the courage to leave the bastard?”
“Last year, according to her. Same time as Angry Thomas came into her life.”
“Oh …”
“Oh, indeed. The very word that entered my head when she told me. Very convenient. Apparently, she had been doing some charity work, and was asked to do a workshop for an ex-prisoners group. She claims she was reluctant at the beginning, but decided to give it a go. Before she knew it, she was on the road to Damascus – though she probably meant the M1, heading in the direction of Woodbank prison.”
“You think her young lover was involved in the killing of Milligan, that somehow she manipulated him into it?”
“The more I hear about Milligan, the more I’m inclined to detest the man – dead or not. Was Angry Thomas involved? It’s not implausible …”
Karl suddenly noticed the large envelope leaning drunkenly against a lamp on the far table.
“That looks familiar.”
“It came when you were out …” Reluctantly, Naomi handed Karl the envelope.
Three chapters from his latest manuscript, returned, its wrapper barely disturbed.
“By the looks of things, the bastards didn’t even open it,” said Karl, throwing the envelope on the sofa. “Good job I’ve the skin of a rhino.”
Naomi kissed him gently on the cheek. “Could have fooled me. Besides, perhaps it never reached its destination? You know what the postal service is like. Remember getting that Christmas card in July?”
Karl smiled. “You’re a darling, a net for when I fall. You shall be richly rewarded with a drink. Get your coat, my dear. The meeting with Margaret Boland, coupled with my rejected manuscript has left me dejected. Time to wallow in self-pity. Let’s head to
Billy
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