CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Conditioner Custard“Wait, what?” Kit swallowed and gaped at Mr Rashid. She shook her wrist free of his grip. “No! Absolutely not!” She turned away from him and walked towards the bean display. Anger burned in her chest, hot enough to incite her to give it a shove. Her fingers twitched and she veered around it, heading towards the toiletry aisle and the shelf of conditioner bottles.
“But you must!” Mr Rashid followed, wringing his hands in front of him. “Tell the police officer she owed you money.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.” Kit spun on the spot and the worn soles of her old shoes obliged in a complete pirouette. She landed facing the back of the shop and had to edge herself the right way round to continue the conversation. The glazed look in Mr Ras
