He rubbed his eyes. His shoulders ached.
This was real. The man was standing with his hands behind his back. He had the beginnings of a beard.
‘Hello,’ said the man. ‘I’m Hussain. From Biggs and Short.’
‘What?’
‘Your solicitors.’
‘I don’t have a solicitor.’
‘No. Well, I’m your legal representative.’
‘No. My girlfriend’s going to be helping me out with all that.’
‘Is that Gloria Cohen?’
‘Yes, that’s her.’
‘The police were unable to contact her, I’m afraid, sir.’
He knew exactly what he meant: Gloria was always too busy to answer her phone. They might have more luck texting her, but even then they wouldn’t be guaranteed a response: ‘SPK,’ would come the reply, but she wouldn’t.
‘Well,’ continued Mr Hussain, ‘anyway, I have been appointed your legal representative. I work for Biggs and Short. Mr Billy Biggs is a cousin of Ted Carson, Mr Armstrong, who I believe you know?’
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