the opposition didn’t really require that kind
of muscle.
10,
11, 12...
She’d
thought about doing it. A pillow over the head. Crushed meds in his food. Thing
was she still loved him in a funny kind of way. Enough to keep her from doing
anything about it. And even if all her feelings had gone, she didn’t fancy
copping a murder charge.
That’s
why she was off to see ‘Mr Suit’ Martin.
“Anything
you want. Just name it,” Mr Suit had said. And up until then he’d been true to
his word. Paid for a nurse for a couple of hours a day. Bought in some respite
care at the weekends. Forked out for all the hospital bills.
12 th letter. L.
“Love
you too,” Liza said, leaning over and kissing Archie on the cheek, checking her
makeup in the chrome of the chair as she got close. The mascara showed off her
blue eyes nicely and she thought the flicks at the end of her lids made her
look like a fair-haired Cleopatra. “Got to rush. Won’t be long. If I get held
up, one of the nurses will be here at 3.”
He
started blinking again.
Liza
didn’t have the time to mess around. Pretended not to notice her husband’s
pleading.
She
turned up the volume on the snooker with the remote and shifted him round so
that he faced the TV.
Her
bag was all ready by the coffee grinder. She grabbed it and ran for the door.
Wondered if Mr Suit was going to do the right thing by them in their hour of
need and just how far she might have to go to persuade him. It was time the
boss made right for what he’d done once and for all.
Chapter 2
T he
meeting took place in the breakfast room.
Liza
had been escorted there by someone she hadn’t seen before, a tall, black guy
with a goatee beard who wore sunglasses even though the lights in the house
weren’t on.
She
was grateful for the assistance – these Millionaire’s Row mansions might not
look like much from outside the big iron fences, but inside they were like
warrens. Last time she’d been there, she’d had to take a pee in a sauna because
she’d forgotten the directions to the bathroom.
The
sun shone through the glass patio doors and brightened the place up enormously.
That was the cue for the escort to take off his sunglasses.
Through
the glass of the doors she could see a neatly manicured lawn, at the far end of
which was an undulating, golfing green with its very own sand-trap and flag.
Mr
Suit didn’t bother to get up when they entered. Just sat at the beautifully
designed chrome and glass table that his wife had picked up in the Habitat sale
for less than 5 grand.
Liza
took a quick peek and noted that he was wearing his trademark spats. She almost
laughed at the sight, but thought better of it.
The
guy was all show. Oiled, black hair, Italian suits and a hat for every
occasion. It was all about class for Mr Suit. Nothing but the best for the ugly
bugger.
Today
he was in pink. Suit, shirt, tie and car-shaped cufflinks.
The
tie was hand-painted. Had a naked lady standing by the sea in the centre, the
froth of the waves breaking against the rocks at her feet. It was probably an
original from the 1940s. Looked good on him the way it drew the attention away
from his face.
Liza
made her proposal as soon as the escort was dismissed. Mr Suit carried on
eating his pasta as she spoke and grunted or nodded every once in a while.
When
the food was done, he leant back in his chair and poked at his teeth with a
wooden pick. Looked like he was doing some thinking and some dentistry at the
same time. A real multi-tasker this guy.
Liza
couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead she stared at the empty plate on the
table and at the crumpled serviette that had been decorated with red smears of
tomato sauce by Suit’s mouth.
“It’s
a big ask, Liza.” Which wasn’t exactly a 'no'.
“He’d
do it for you if it was the other way around,” she told him and kicked off the
silver stiletto from her right foot. She stretched over until her toes found Suit’s
leg and massaged the
of muscle.
10,
11, 12...
She’d
thought about doing it. A pillow over the head. Crushed meds in his food. Thing
was she still loved him in a funny kind of way. Enough to keep her from doing
anything about it. And even if all her feelings had gone, she didn’t fancy
copping a murder charge.
That’s
why she was off to see ‘Mr Suit’ Martin.
“Anything
you want. Just name it,” Mr Suit had said. And up until then he’d been true to
his word. Paid for a nurse for a couple of hours a day. Bought in some respite
care at the weekends. Forked out for all the hospital bills.
12 th letter. L.
“Love
you too,” Liza said, leaning over and kissing Archie on the cheek, checking her
makeup in the chrome of the chair as she got close. The mascara showed off her
blue eyes nicely and she thought the flicks at the end of her lids made her
look like a fair-haired Cleopatra. “Got to rush. Won’t be long. If I get held
up, one of the nurses will be here at 3.”
He
started blinking again.
Liza
didn’t have the time to mess around. Pretended not to notice her husband’s
pleading.
She
turned up the volume on the snooker with the remote and shifted him round so
that he faced the TV.
Her
bag was all ready by the coffee grinder. She grabbed it and ran for the door.
Wondered if Mr Suit was going to do the right thing by them in their hour of
need and just how far she might have to go to persuade him. It was time the
boss made right for what he’d done once and for all.
Chapter 2
T he
meeting took place in the breakfast room.
Liza
had been escorted there by someone she hadn’t seen before, a tall, black guy
with a goatee beard who wore sunglasses even though the lights in the house
weren’t on.
She
was grateful for the assistance – these Millionaire’s Row mansions might not
look like much from outside the big iron fences, but inside they were like
warrens. Last time she’d been there, she’d had to take a pee in a sauna because
she’d forgotten the directions to the bathroom.
The
sun shone through the glass patio doors and brightened the place up enormously.
That was the cue for the escort to take off his sunglasses.
Through
the glass of the doors she could see a neatly manicured lawn, at the far end of
which was an undulating, golfing green with its very own sand-trap and flag.
Mr
Suit didn’t bother to get up when they entered. Just sat at the beautifully
designed chrome and glass table that his wife had picked up in the Habitat sale
for less than 5 grand.
Liza
took a quick peek and noted that he was wearing his trademark spats. She almost
laughed at the sight, but thought better of it.
The
guy was all show. Oiled, black hair, Italian suits and a hat for every
occasion. It was all about class for Mr Suit. Nothing but the best for the ugly
bugger.
Today
he was in pink. Suit, shirt, tie and car-shaped cufflinks.
The
tie was hand-painted. Had a naked lady standing by the sea in the centre, the
froth of the waves breaking against the rocks at her feet. It was probably an
original from the 1940s. Looked good on him the way it drew the attention away
from his face.
Liza
made her proposal as soon as the escort was dismissed. Mr Suit carried on
eating his pasta as she spoke and grunted or nodded every once in a while.
When
the food was done, he leant back in his chair and poked at his teeth with a
wooden pick. Looked like he was doing some thinking and some dentistry at the
same time. A real multi-tasker this guy.
Liza
couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead she stared at the empty plate on the
table and at the crumpled serviette that had been decorated with red smears of
tomato sauce by Suit’s mouth.
“It’s
a big ask, Liza.” Which wasn’t exactly a 'no'.
“He’d
do it for you if it was the other way around,” she told him and kicked off the
silver stiletto from her right foot. She stretched over until her toes found Suit’s
leg and massaged the
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