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Sunday, 15 January 2017



As soon as Luigi and Cody were dressed, the killer gestured to them with the gun to go outside onto the walkway.

“Downstairs!” he ordered quietly.  Luigi had half hoped they would use the lift.  Somebody might get in and then the killer might be distracted and Luigi could grab his gun … or maybe in the close confines of the lift, he might get close enough to do it anyway.  He turned round to see what was happening. 

“Just keep walking!” the killer growled.  His quietness and confidence were terrifying.

At ground level, the killer asked, “Where’s your car?”  Luigi thought of lying, and saying he didn’t have one. “I know you have one,” said the killer.  “I’ve watched you.  I’ve seen it.”

Luigi almost lost hope then.  How were they going to escape?  He also felt especially stupid.  He’d automatically put his key ring into his pocket when they’d left the flat.  Habit.  A couple of years before, he’d locked himself out of the flat and had had to go and beg to be let in by the building supervisor, who lived in a flat on the ground floor.  Mr Albanese had made his dislike of Luigi’s effeminacy quite clear, and Luigi had resolved never to let it happen again.  He’d made a habit of putting his keys, his wallet and his phone in his pockets whenever he left his flat.  Stupid! he thought to himself.  The police might know the killer’s car make and registration number and might be able to track them if his car was used.  But obviously the killer thought so too.

Saturday, 14 January 2017


The policeman nodded to them. Then he turned on his heel and went back along the walkway and into the flat.

“Loik to live dangerously, don’t ya?” murmured Keith when the lift doors had at last closed.

“Homophobic bunch of arseholes and wankers!” stormed Jason.

“Oi think he had a hard-on for ya, Jace,” said Keith.

Jason just tightened his lips and shook his head.

 “They’re so unprofessional. So inept.”

“You were very blunt,” observed Esmé.  “People hate being criticized.”

“Yeah.  But how unprofessional is it to raid his house and let him escape!  And then to argue with us when we point that out!”

They’d reached the ground floor.

“What’re we going to do now?” asked Esmé.

“I don’t know.  I feel we have to do something.”

His phone rang.

It was Luigi.

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