Ammunition

36

Falls, in a feeble attempt to tidy up, had taken a brush to sweep the floor and found Angie’s handbag under the sofa. She opened it, found the usual stuff and a tiny automatic. She got a fresh bottle of vodka, seal intact, and sat it on the table. She eased herself down, the automatic in her hand, you racked it, and bingo, a round ready to go. She looked at the vodka, unopened, said:

‘Virgin like.’

And gave the tiny smile that had so entranced Roberts.

She held the tiny gun up to her mouth, tasted it, cold.

And wondered what McDonald had thought of in his last moments, she regretted not washing the Snoopy T-shirt. She’d have regretted all the rest, but it was too much… ammunition?