Chapter Three
The Study
Beware the freebie, usually someone else is missing out.
Deirdre arrived late in the afternoon after her Saturday rush. Clutching a yoga mat, a teapot, and an astrology chart, she tentatively knocked at the door.
She had heard about Lesley, the chief with arms like a wrestler. Who could butcher a cow in an afternoon and have all the innards stuffed with sausage meat by nightfall? Whose greatest claim to fame was a haggis peppered with twenty secret spices?
Lesley opened the door and wanted to shut it again. Deirdre was a wispy slip of a girl who looked like she’d struggle to open a crisp packet: just the sort that Agnus liked to take under her wing.
Deirdre stared up at Lesley’s six-foot frame and gulped. Lesley looked like she was in the middle of chopping so
