As he started the engine of the Barbiemobile, his jeans pocket vibrated. There was a text message on the mobile phone Frank had given him. ‘City Botanical Gardens 3pm tomorrow. Now dispose.’
Bad news travels fast. Reuben drove through the car park to the rear of the hotel and stopped at the industrial garbage bin. He took the sim card out of the mobile phone and threw the phone in the bin, where it lay glinting amongst the food scraps and papers. He placed an empty pizza box on top of it so it wasn’t visible and zoomed off.
The house was in silence when he arrived home. Carlene hadn’t arrived home from work yet. He ran the bath, pouring in some of her scented bubbles, and submerged himself in it with a Mandrake comic and the Boston Stranglers, in their punk rock phase, screeching from hi
