14
Havana Bound – The Pretty Things
That said it all really.
I stayed a bit longer as Robber bought another pint, and a ham roll that seemed mostly thick white fat covered in lumpy, acid yellow mustard. He loved it.
‘So, how’s business?’ I asked.
‘Same s**t,’ he replied. ‘Nasty one today. Pulled one out of the river. Bloating and floating. Black skin, blue eyes he’d been in so long. Stank like a khasi.’ He sniffed his fingers. ‘Thank Christ for non-latex gloves.’
‘Accident? Murder? Suicide?’
‘Who knows? Bleedin’ nuisance is all I know.’
‘Enough to put you off your supper.’
‘No f*****g chance,’ he said, and sunk his teeth into a bit of fat protruding out of the roll.
And that said enough, so I left, and left my untouched beer on the table. I stood outside in the gloaming and smoke
