tell them anything then you were safe.
So whoever had put Kevin away had either a working knowledge of his business practices, or a vested interest in seeing Kevin Craig off the pavement. The former he doubted, the latter he suspected.
Kevin had never had the gift of friendship. He was like a fucking old woman, looking for slights everywhere, taking offence at nothing and, worst of all, he thought he was the lynchpin of the protection business.
People amazed him: if they were so fucking clever why were they on a wage? Why depend on someone else for their daily bread? So he had once had affiliations with Barry Caldwell, why would he think that gave him any street credibility? Barry had been mugged off, he was yesterday's news. He would see about bailing Kevin out if he could, he would concentrate on lessening the blow of his sentence, and finally he would take care of his family until such time as the courts saw fit to release him back into society. It was the usual, it was what anyone could expect in his employ and it wasn't fucking rocket science. It also meant he was about two grand down a week, and that was the real priority here; when all was said and done, he wasn't about to lose any income. Still, he would find out the score soon enough, and like any problem, the sooner it was dealt with, the better.
Lil was still nervous after her prison visit. The place made her nerves bad, undermined her life in every way imaginable. Reminded her of what could happen, reminded her of how difficult her life could easily become.
But it also reminded her of how she had to keep these thoughts to herself. All her life she had felt as if she was walking on quicksand and that feeling overwhelmed her every time she walked through the prison doors.
It was an ending, a big lump, it was society's way of telling people they were being excluded, it was also like a time warp. All her life she had heard the phrase 'let the punishment fit the crime', and she was agreeable to that.
Money and property were what got people banged up for years, and as her husband now fell into that category, it bothered her. Especially as she knew that the prison lifestyle would kill him.
But it was so true, crimes against money and property guaranteed a seriously long sentence, murder and sex crimes guaranteed a much lesser sentence. It was to her, at first, an unbelievable truth. She had believed it, because it had been explained to her by her husband. Now though, the papers had proved the case in point, and it scared her. That her husband would do less time for murdering a complete stranger on the street than for robbing a bank was outrageous. He was breaking the law of course, but how was that a worse offence than a murder or a rape? It was these thoughts that were stopping her from sleeping at night.
It did occur to her that he might be a murderer, but she forced those thoughts away. If he did murder someone there would have to be a good reason for it, she was convinced. It was like her mother had said, it would be like an occupational hazard to him. But he wouldn't do that, she knew he wouldn't do anything like that.
As she poured out a cup of tea, she looked around her kitchen and tried to take in everything about it. Compared to her upbringing, this place was luxury, yet even she was now aware that they did not live within her husband's means. They lived well but not excessively so. Pat always said that the first interest from Old Bill was if there was a nice house and a decent motor and no real means of employment. His legal business would have provided this standard of living so that is how they lived. It was still a better lifestyle than most people's.
If she was to be taken away from here at a moment's notice, what would she really remember? What would she miss? Like her husband, she lived for the moment. If it all fell out of bed, she would pack a bag and walk away from here without a backward glance. Somewhere in her head she knew that
So whoever had put Kevin away had either a working knowledge of his business practices, or a vested interest in seeing Kevin Craig off the pavement. The former he doubted, the latter he suspected.
Kevin had never had the gift of friendship. He was like a fucking old woman, looking for slights everywhere, taking offence at nothing and, worst of all, he thought he was the lynchpin of the protection business.
People amazed him: if they were so fucking clever why were they on a wage? Why depend on someone else for their daily bread? So he had once had affiliations with Barry Caldwell, why would he think that gave him any street credibility? Barry had been mugged off, he was yesterday's news. He would see about bailing Kevin out if he could, he would concentrate on lessening the blow of his sentence, and finally he would take care of his family until such time as the courts saw fit to release him back into society. It was the usual, it was what anyone could expect in his employ and it wasn't fucking rocket science. It also meant he was about two grand down a week, and that was the real priority here; when all was said and done, he wasn't about to lose any income. Still, he would find out the score soon enough, and like any problem, the sooner it was dealt with, the better.
Lil was still nervous after her prison visit. The place made her nerves bad, undermined her life in every way imaginable. Reminded her of what could happen, reminded her of how difficult her life could easily become.
But it also reminded her of how she had to keep these thoughts to herself. All her life she had felt as if she was walking on quicksand and that feeling overwhelmed her every time she walked through the prison doors.
It was an ending, a big lump, it was society's way of telling people they were being excluded, it was also like a time warp. All her life she had heard the phrase 'let the punishment fit the crime', and she was agreeable to that.
Money and property were what got people banged up for years, and as her husband now fell into that category, it bothered her. Especially as she knew that the prison lifestyle would kill him.
But it was so true, crimes against money and property guaranteed a seriously long sentence, murder and sex crimes guaranteed a much lesser sentence. It was to her, at first, an unbelievable truth. She had believed it, because it had been explained to her by her husband. Now though, the papers had proved the case in point, and it scared her. That her husband would do less time for murdering a complete stranger on the street than for robbing a bank was outrageous. He was breaking the law of course, but how was that a worse offence than a murder or a rape? It was these thoughts that were stopping her from sleeping at night.
It did occur to her that he might be a murderer, but she forced those thoughts away. If he did murder someone there would have to be a good reason for it, she was convinced. It was like her mother had said, it would be like an occupational hazard to him. But he wouldn't do that, she knew he wouldn't do anything like that.
As she poured out a cup of tea, she looked around her kitchen and tried to take in everything about it. Compared to her upbringing, this place was luxury, yet even she was now aware that they did not live within her husband's means. They lived well but not excessively so. Pat always said that the first interest from Old Bill was if there was a nice house and a decent motor and no real means of employment. His legal business would have provided this standard of living so that is how they lived. It was still a better lifestyle than most people's.
If she was to be taken away from here at a moment's notice, what would she really remember? What would she miss? Like her husband, she lived for the moment. If it all fell out of bed, she would pack a bag and walk away from here without a backward glance. Somewhere in her head she knew that
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