CHAPTER TEN
The man flopped forward and sprawled across me. I pushed him off and sat up. 'Frida, are you okay?'
'Yes.' It was a whimper. I felt for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Frida was lying on the floor. Blood trickled out of her mouth, her cheek was red and swollen and her right eye was beginning to turn black. She looked at me, got to her feet and dashed into the bathroom, coughing and retching.
Wetness was soaking into my shirt. I looked down; it was spattered with blood and brains. I grabbed a towel from under the covers of the bed and wiped myself as best I could. My head was pounding from the punch. I rolled the man over onto his back. Impossible to tell what he'd looked like with half his head blown off, but he had a similar height and build to Mr Liverpool.
Frida eme
