Chapter Thirty-One
Patsy
“A beehive is only as tough as its hairspray.”—Beryl’s hairdresser
Patsy watched as Archie drove off. She stared at Beryl’s beehive through the back window and wondered what she had just witnessed.
Archie had fussed over Patsy, saying there was nothing to worry about—setting seeds in her mind that there was something to worry about.
Well, that and the broken window . . .
Broken windows were two a penny in Patsy’s neighborhood, but usually by teenagers with hooded heads, not a gran dressed in leather sporting a miniature whip.
“She’s fallen on hard times,” said Archie. He threw Patsy his best Identity look. “And she’s not quite the full shilling.”
Archie’s Identity eye contact had little effect on Patsy.
She was a content middle-age woman who, thanks to Bun
