Colourful stories in colourful settings
Detective Inspector Barney Mains held his usual first-of-the-day coffee and had his usual first-of-the-day thought: What the hell am I doing here?'
Barney had to tear himself away from watching Peaches’ face as she spoke, fascinated by the high eyebrows which never moved – two pencil-thin lines which seemed to live an independent life on high, aloof from any expression.
Apart from looking hardly old enough to hold a driving licence, she was as thin as a parking ticket and had an offensive overabundance of self-confidence for one so painfully young.
He saw a second spark, further to the right, and this time put it together with the delayed report of a rifle shot. He instantly knew the third shot would surely hit its target.
The Wizard really looked the part, squatting in his high-backed chair behind the desk, bracing himself on its arms as if about to lever his great bulk to a rarely seen vertical, his jowls positively on fire with unhealthy camaraderie.
Barney heard the line go dead and lay there thinking that if this was Finlay being a nice guy, he preferred him as an arsehole.
McLuskey reacted with a fetchingly feral grin. ‘Fur coat an’ nae knickers, that one.’
And some more shots around Nice
