CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
After two definite hits—Sunnie’s sketch of the now-older, not-so-fat-Goyne matching with Franklin’s recollection of the guy who’d been with Duffy, the kid who was her mugger—Georgie had been anxious not to lose momentum. So she canvassed the streets with her pic and Sunnie’s sketch when Franklin started his shift at 4.00pm.
The first hour was productive, while the shops that’d opened that day still traded. But most of them closed at 5.00pm sharp. Some would straggle on for another half-hour and she deliberately left the later-trading takeaways, supermarkets and pubs for after that.
Two hours later, she was shattered – no one had definitively recognised Goyne. She lingered at Burke’s Hotel over a beer, considering a pub special for tea.
She felt a nudge to her upper
