I whipped Mona out of her snug parking spot without losing any paint and sped down the beach road, weaving through the speed chicanes like a slalom skier on speed. Mona wasn’t a brilliant car on corners but made up for it with grunt. I knew I was being an eco-savage owning an eight-cylinder car, ...
I took Wal with me but left Cass deeply asleep on the floor. Madame Vine’s front yard was crawling with police and plastered with crime-scene tape. Every nook and cranny of the garden was lit by portables. Whitey stood at the front door, dressed in civvies and talking to my other least favourite ...