The place wasn’t familiar, of course; the stench of Charlie Cooper was still hanging over every part of the City, but we were out at Winsford, not that far from Neil’s address. Mr Sedgewick had been cheeky, asking specifically if I could possibly visit Gemma’s before the trip, so both Candice and I were carrying several cardboard boxes of pastries in readiness. She had found a pub that did rooms in a place called Little Budworth, as there was sod-all in Winsford, and neither of us fancied a Purple Palace again. She was driving, a works car, because the public transport was also non-existent. At least the HQ had a decent amount of parking. We waited at the desk like good little girls until a civilian came to collect us, and off we went to Mr Sedgewick’s office, towing the consolidated evidence bundle in a non-small pull-along suitcase.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks.
This story is 152 words long.
Recent comments