Why did Frank want to meet at the Bulimba Soccer Club? Surely he wasn’t a soccer player. Maybe he had a kid who played soccer. Reuben couldn’t imagine Frank as a father at all, let alone a soccer dad. He hoped Frank wasn’t going to suggest another attempt in the pole dancing car park. He, Reuben, would have to come up with a better idea.
On the way to work, he racked his brains but alternative scenarios for murder refused to materialise. After parking, he took the phone Frank had given him out of his pocket, slipped out the sim card, and wrapped the phone tightly in a plastic bag he’d brought for that purpose. He disposed of it in the industrial garbage bin near the rear entrance of the cafe.
He tried not to think about his meeting with Frank. He mixed up several orders and sent an opene
