CHAPTER 25
“You will get off at Camberwell Green,” another phone call instructed Frank while he was on the bus.
The mystery behind the hooligans who had chased him on his street, days ago had finally come to light, the previous evening. Instead of the greased paper, the stalker had this night left the copy of a parking ticket at his door. On the back of the paper was the same illiterate scrawl:
“I no .were u live ediot”.
Frank remembered the burly bricklayer that he had given a parking ticket; the bricklayer with serpents tattooed all over his arms and murder in his eyes. But Frank wasn’t afraid anymore; there were far more important things to worry about. If he survived the current day it would merely be a matter of making a complaint to the police, and the fool’s goose would be cooke
