TWENTY-ONE
The seven Jesuit Hairdressers had met early in Poncenbey’s. Well, it was early for them. It was eleven and some looked decidedly shabby for this break of day, c***k of their dawn call. Claudio would be out. They knew this. The CCTV had shown that, over the past week or so, the bird had magically made his escape via a mysteriously opened window. How did the window open? The window was shut and then, it was open. It wasn’t Derek, whom they all had first suspected, after all, who else could it be? There was an expressed relief at the steward’s innocence; they liked Derek, even more so when he wore his tan dungarees when unblocking a drain or assisting in relieving members’ constipation. Well they would, he was well built if you got the drift and we are not talking about a brick wa
