In room thirty-seven around that time, Hugh was seriously fed up. They had enough for two more nights in this crummy hotel, and that was it. The only phone call they had received was from the Chiltern Weekly, who wanted a follow-up story on how his wife had predicted where the stolen goods would be. And no, there would be no payment, they had said. So they could get lost.
Why did he listen to her? Probably for the same reason all those mugs did. She could talk a nun into having a cigarette and a whisky. So if some poor schmuck did want to talk to his old gran, she’d have him believing she was in the room. She could suss the poor things out in seconds and tell them exactly what they wanted to hear.
Just when he had given up all hope, her mobile rang.
Veronica said, “Wish me luck,” and bl
