I’m not sure we’re really capable of bashing someone’s brains in. Not when it comes down to it.
We could wait until he’s asleep, turn all the gas knobs on full blast?
I like that!
It could work?
It’s better than my next suggestion, which was going to be inviting him up to my castle in Scotland, then arranging some kind of country shooting accident.
Maybe that’ll work for the next one!!
Has everyone got gloves by the way?
I’ve only got fingerless gloves, would that work?
No.
I have some spares! Oh hold on, they’re mittens. No good?
No.
I’ve got proper gloves! And I have the matching pashminas if that helps.
It doesn’t.
OK, well, I’ll bring them anyway. Just in case it gets chilly.
I found out from Gemma the name of the pub Dominic goes to every night. Shall we case the joint tonight?
How lovely! I’ve always wanted to be a stalker. You don’t get much of a chance up in Scotland.
It is, oddly enough, a welcome distraction for Paula, who is under orders from Seb to ‘stop looking at the internet.’ She was really quite shocked after she’d rushed home last week. She had opened Facebook to find hundreds of friend requests from strangers, and almost as many messages. Seb didn’t let her read them all, but they mostly seemed to be from peopleshe didn’t know, accusing her of killing her husband for the money. It was bizarre and harrowing. And it hasn’t slowed down since. Neither have the journalists, calling and emailing, harassing her for an interview.
Across the road, Dominic staggers off down the street into the dark. He’s oblivious to his surroundings and free of any safety concerns in the way that only a forty-something straight white man gets to be. When he reaches the crossing, he pauses and checks his watch. Instead of turning left in the direction of his car, Dominic heads right.
The women silently glance at one another. This is new. So far, he has very much been a creature of routine. He leaves work, goes straight to the pub – sometimes with friends, sometimes on his own – where he gets extremely drunk, and then he goes home to sleep it off.
Tonight though, he apparently has a new idea.
‘Should we keep following?’ Ivy asks anxiously in a whisper.
Paula shrugs. ‘Whatever you think. We’re at your beck and call.’
Audrey squints at her. ‘Who are Beck and Paul? I thought it was Dominic and Gemma?’
Teddy shakes her head, rolling her eyes at her. ‘She saidbeck and call.Listen up, you deaf old bint.’
Audrey shrieks with amusement, then covers her mouth. ‘My hearing is perfect, thank you. It’s my eyes that are shot. It’s Paula’s fault for mumbling.’
‘I don’t mean to,’ Paula mumbles.
‘I think you speak at a very nice volume,’ Ivy says kindly and Paula smiles at her gratefully.
En masse, they make their way down the darkened streetsafter the Evil Bastard. It’s only just after ten p.m., but the streets are mostly empty. It’s the middle of May, but unseasonably cold. People seem to be holding off breaking out the early summer socialising for now.
Dominic stops after a few minutes, lingering by a lamppost. He stares out across the road at a steakhouse. It looks busy.
‘What is he doing here?’ Teddy hisses. ‘Is he going for dinner?’
