Johnny raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he got out of the car.
Right.
Yeah.
Probably shouldn’t make those jokes anymore.
“I hate you,” Amil groaned, leaning back in his chair as Johnny placed another cup of tea in front of him. Unfortunately for Amil, out of the five of them he was the only one who was half-decent at any sort of admin, so weighing and recording the drugs had fallen to him.
“You’re doing great, PC Dua. Keep it up,” Isla said, giving him the thumbs up before turning back to her screen. “What’re we on? Twenty-five, thirty kilos so far?”
Amil shook his head. “Sixty-seven. And that’s not counting the loose stuff Wendy’s processing.”
Taylor whistled. “Wow. Now that’s a haul. What’s that in money terms?”
Amil dragged an old-school Casio calculator out of a drawer and punched in some numbers. Tapping the top of his pen against his chin, he said, “Hard to say since Wendy’s still testing the purity, but if we assume it’s middle of the road because of the talcum powder, I’d say… maybe….” He punched in a few more numbers then looked up. “About forty-five grand. Give or take.”
Taylor whistled. “Nice. Well, Jill’s got some explaining to do when she gets out of hospital.”
Amil tutted. “You don’t seriously think she was dealing? The woman was a nurse. She keeps chickens and has a cat called Bubblegum!”
Taylor’s eyebrow twitched. “Real, or one of those creepy china?—”
“Real!” Amil said, rolling his eyes. “Drug dealers don’t have cats called Bubblegum. One hundred percent she’s being exploited.”
Taylor shrugged. “Or you’ve had a horde of gangsta grannies operating under your noses all this time.”
Amil scoffed and threw the calculator at him. “I think we’d have fucking noticed if there was a drugs cartel operating out of Dingly Heath, don’t you?”
“There’s a drug cartel operating out of Dingly Heath?” Wendy said, appearing in the doorway with an arm full of testing kits. “Since when?”
“Since never!” Amil shouted, muttering as he returned his attention to the computer.
Johnny crossed his arms, tipping back in his swivel chair. “Stop riling him up,” he whispered.
Taylor smirked, nudging Amil’s chair.
Amil slapped his boot. “Sod off.”
Johnny uncrossed his arms, rising to his feet and perching on the desk to look at the screen over Amil’s shoulder. “Have we had Sylvester’s blood results back yet?”
Isla looked over the top of her screen. “Probably, but I haven’t checked because CPS already charged him. Why?”
Johnny shrugged. “Just wondering, given that he was displaying some of the same symptoms as Jill. Hot to the touch, acting irrationally, permanent…” He shivered, as though reliving the memory. “Erection.”
Wendy laughed and placed the testing kits on the table. “He had a boner and the sweats because he’s a pervert. Acting irrationally is just him on a bad day—probably given himself schizophrenia from all the drink and drugs.”
Johnny shook his head. “Pretty sure that isn’t how schizophrenia works.”
“Want me to check?” Isla said, giving Johnny a pointed look.
“Wouldn’t hurt,” he replied.
She turned her attention back to the screen. “Give me a minute.”
They all sat around in comfortable silence. Amil sipping tea and typing furiously. Wendy texting her new boyfriend and giggling to herself every now and again. Isla humming and tapping her feet under the desk. Johnny scrolling through his phone and picking at his chipped nail paint.
Taylor wasn’t sure when things had become ‘comfortable’ between the five of them, but it made his tummy warm and the backs of his arms tingle. He nudged Johnny’s foot and pointed to his hands. “Touch-up?” he said, instantly regretting his choice of words. “Of the nails. Not… you… obviously… That wouldn’t be… Oh, fuck.”
