Sacrilege - Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ralph Packard was not at all as I had imagined. He neither resembled Vincent in the slightest nor exuded any of the younger Packard’s sly charm. He greeted us civilly enough and made it clear I was surplus to requirements.  Having first been shown into a small office, I was now politely but speedily despatched to a waiting area in an adjoining ante-room while he and Ryan got down to the business of what I suspected would involve no small element of creative accounting.

Seeing Packard and Ryan together made me realize there was more to my new lover than met the eye. Had I been naïve to think I was in safer hands with Ryan, I wondered? At the same I was relieved that Packard made no reference to my somewhat blemished history but merely gave me a long, scornful look that made me feel knee high to a grasshopper.

I was nervous and soon looking for the loo. Not only did I find it, but also  encountered a good looking man I placed  in his mid-late thirties with fetching blond highlights in his dark brown hair.

“You don’t work here do you?” he enquired with a slight lisp in the manner of someone who already knows the answer to a question.

I explained, upon which Miles Packard introduced himself with a smile that repudiated all the nasty things I had heard said about the man. “Care for a drink? We can enjoy a good chin wag and you can tell me what the fuck you think you’re playing at,” he said, genial smile still in place but a hard glitter in the eyes that rang warning bells in my head.  Aware that I was not being invited but instructed, I could only smile back, look cheerful and lie. “Thanks, sounds good, I’d like that.”

As I followed Miles, a feeling came over me that we had met before. It crossed my mind that he may have been at the Richmond house on the night of the fire but quickly dismissed the thought as irrelevant.

Miles took me to another, larger office. My first impression was that it resembled a small library. Shelves around the walls were crammed with books.  He followed my gaze. “Reading sharpens the mind, isn’t that what they say?”

“I believe so,” I agreed and sat down where he indicated I should. He attended to the drinks without asking what I preferred. However, I needn’t have worried. Mine proved to be a generous measure of a delightful malt whiskey that went down a treat.

“So, Mister Fisher, you’re the scumbag who tried to burn my brother’s house down and make off with his favourite prostitute.”

I winced involuntarily under a scrutiny that utterly belied a reassuring curve of the lips.

“The fire was an accident,” I protested. “As for that other business, I had no idea my young friend had any such intention.”

“Friend, did you say? The blue eyes widened. “Don’t you mean, accomplice or should I say protégé?   I must say, you don’t strike me as pimp material. In my experience, pimps have an air of worldly arrogance about them. You don’t. In fact, Laurence (I may call you Laurence?) you strike me as nothing more or less than a pathetic nobody. Still, if you have nothing else going for you, there’s always the pretty Goth boy.  Vince is very impressed, I can tell you. He can’t wait to do business with you both. Oh, but I forgot, our Vince is entitled to freebies, isn’t he?  Fair enough, wouldn’t you say? I mean to say, poor Vince could have burned to a cinder and it would have been all down to you…”  As he talked, he smirked and kept stroking his Adam’s apple with his right hand, his tone all the more chilling for a note of genuine amusement.

I was left in no doubt that he was playing with me.

“Do you only like boys or do you swing both ways?” he asked out of the blue. I couldn’t prevent the blood rushing to my face.

“I tend to play things by ear,” I mumbled, pleased with what I thought was a good reply since it gave nothing away.

Miles Packard leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. “Hardly by ear, surely?” He roared again, “Although I suppose the lobes might come into play. Vince loves licking lobes. Do you enjoy licking lobes, Laurence?  They’re very sensitive, lobes. I tingle all over when my wife licks my lobes. Believe me, Laurence. Yours are in for a real treat.

The colour obstinately refused to leave my face.

“Another tot I think, yes?”  He did not wait for me to answer before refilling my glass.

My eyes strayed around the room, anxious not to look at Packard. Attracted by a shaft of sunlight embracing a pretty vase on the windowsill, they took in the professional looking arrangement of the flowers it contained. Almost simultaneously, I froze.

They were pink carnations.

I recalled what Philip had said about the serial killer’s predilection for pink carnations. Could Miles Packard be the killer, I wondered?  It would certainly explain why Philip’s undercover operation required him to infiltrate the Packard’s seedy little empire. Miles had to be a prime suspect, surely?

“Well, it’s been nice to meet you and have a chat,” Packard was saying. He rose and stretched a hand across the table. Instinctively, I got up as well and shook it. His grasp was firm. I forced myself to meet the steady, unblinking gaze. It was self-assured and mocking. At the same time I didn’t get the feeling I was looking into the eyes of a serial killer. Oh, I didn’t doubt that Miles Packard had blood on his hands, buts somehow I couldn’t believe that stalking people was quite his style. Yet, I had to admit, what did I know about such things?

“The bar is closed to the public, but if you mention my name, you’ll have no problem. They serve hot snacks too. I imagine Ryan and my father have lots to talk about. So, if you get peckish…be my guest.” He released my hand and dismissed me with a nod.

 I left feeling like a naughty schoolboy who had been reprimanded by the Head Teacher.  The analogy caused me to reflect that, of all three Packard men, it was Miles who had impressed as well as scared me the most.

While enjoying a cappuccino at the bar, I was joined by the same shifty looking character I’d first spotted at the hospital and later encountered during the incident at May Finn’s. We neither spoke nor made eye contact. I left a hastily scrawled message for Ryan with the barman and returned to the widow’s house.

The widow was out.  I found Danny in the kitchen looking glum across the table at a subdued Jackie... “You look as though you’ve lost a fiver and found a penny,” I told Danny and turned to Jackie, “Is there any more tea in that pot?”

It was Danny who answered. “Help yourself. Can you wonder I’m not dancing a flaming jig? Time’s running out and we haven’t exactly got surprise on our side this time have we? The Packards will be watching us like hawks from now on. How are we supposed to rescue Terri now, eh?”

“It’s not like you to be so defeatist,” I said.

“Any more than it’s like to you go behind Phil’s back with some toe rag you hardly know,” returned Danny with uncharacteristic venom.

I said nothing.

“I might be able to help,” said Jackie in a tone of voice that was no more confident than her expression.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Marc, choosing new furniture or wallpaper...or something?” I asked facetiously and instantly regretted it

“Marc says he needs some space,” Jackie informed us, close to tears. “I think maybe he’s having second thoughts about me, about us…”

No one spoke.

“So how come you’ve got a plan and I haven’t?” Danny demanded, plainly unimpressed.

“I didn’t say I had a plan. Did I say I had a plan?” Danny and I shook our heads without taking our eyes of Jackie who, I suddenly realized for the first time since entering the room, cut something a pathetic figure. “I merely said that I may be able help.”

“Oh, and how might that be?” asked Danny unconvinced.

“Miles and I…”

“Miles and you…?” I echoed incredulously, “You know Miles Packard?”

“Of course I know him. I told you before I used to…sort of…work for the Packards. But that was ages ago and I haven’t seen Miles since…Well, not since we split up, if you must know.”

“Split up?” It was Danny’s turn to be astonished. “So are you saying that you and Miles Packard had some sort of crooked deal going? I thought you were strictly merchandise, not the flaming merchant?”

“Not a deal exactly no,” Jackie hedged.

“So what, exactly, are you saying?” I prompted.

“Well, if you must know, I was the ‘other woman’ in his life.” If she had paused for dramatic effect, she certainly succeeded. “He’s not interested in his wife, just her money. She’s loaded, you see. She met this sugar daddy while she was on the game who promised to take her away from all that. Instead, he popped his clogs and left her a small fortune.  I didn’t mind being the ‘other woman’ but when bitch found out what was going on she told Miles to dump me or she’d dump him. Well, I ask you, he was hardly going to choose me was he?”

“She must be some woman to issue Miles Packard with an ultimatum,” I observed.

Jackie shrugged. “Nancy’s a real cow. But, like I say, she’s loaded, and if Miles has a weak spot it’s his wallet. If she wanted, she could hit him where would it hurt the most. I was never in the frame from the start, not really. Old man Ralph may be generous to a fault with both sons, but he married money too. True, they have a thriving business, but one that requires taking risks. Let’s face it. It’s much easier to take risks when you can go to bed with a guaranteed cash flow.” She sighed and treated us to a strained smile that just fell short of a grimace.

I couldn’t quite decide whether Jackie was expressing contempt or admiration for the  absent Miles.

“You have to take your hat of to them,” Jackie went on, “They’re no fools, the Packards, with the possible exception of Vince. None of this marrying for love stuff with them, no way. Mind you, the word is Ralph’s got the love bug for his mistress. He’s had her in tow for a few years, apparently. It’s an open secret although, as far as I know, no one has ever seen her. He certainly keeps her under wraps if not lock and key…”

I cut her short, not least because I wasn’t in the least interested in speculation about Ralph Packard’s mistress. Besides, I was curious. “Did you love Miles?”

“Not the way I love your brother, no.  Marc is all I ever wanted. But Miles was good to me at a time when all anyone else saw in me was a freak show. I appreciated that.  Oh, he’s a nasty piece of work, and no mistake, but sometimes a little kindness goes a long way.”

No one said a word for a while. I got up and made another pot of tea while trying to digest the unlikely fact that Jackie and Miles Packard had once been an item.

“So what have you got in mind?” Danny was the first to break the deafening silence.

Jackie shrugged. “The word is that Nancy’s in New York. I doubt if Miles would be over the moon to see me, but I wouldn’t mind betting he wouldn’t show me the door either. I could drop by and say hello, try and find out the date for the next auction…”

“Auction, what auction?” I interrupted.

“Every so often the latest illegals are auctioned off to the highest bidder.

“Illegals, what do you mean, illegals?” I interrupted again.

“Immigrants,” said Danny. “Use your loaf, guv, yeah?”

I nodded, reflecting miserably that I preferred it when he called me ‘Dad’.  We were slipping back into the same routine we’d fallen into when we first met, he a streetwise kid on the wrong side of the tracks and me a sucker for a sob story. I’d hated it then and I hated it now.

“It could be dangerous,” I pointed out, “and Marc would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

Jackie gave another long sigh that spoke volumes.

“Have things gone pear shaped with you and Marc?” Danny wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

“I told him about Miles and me. He didn’t take it too well. I can’t blame him, of course. But I had to tell him, before anyone else did. I really didn’t think it would matter. Well, not as much as it obviously does. I mean to say, Marc knows practically everything else there is know about me. It’s hardly as if I could ever come out of it all smelling of roses! Besides, if you can’t be honest with people you love, how can you expect them to trust you? And without trust…what’s the point?”

“Give him time. He’ll come round. He’s crazy about you,” Danny was adamant. “After Nick died, he crawled into a shell. Oh, he put a brave face on it but it was like he was a fucked-up clone of the real Marc. You changed all that. He’s the old Marc again. So don’t you dare give up in him, yeah?  In the meantime, how soon can you get to see Packard?”

“I’m not sure about this,” I demurred. “Perhaps we should leave it to the police. They must have a pretty good idea about what’s going on. Phillip’s in the thick of things, after all. As for this auction business, it sounds dreadful, no better than slave trading…in the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake! The sooner the police act to stop it the better. Who are we to throw a spanner in the works? We could wreck months of surveillance, years even.”

“It’s easy for you to talk.” Danny glared daggers at me. “No one’s playing pass the parcel with your girlfriend.” He turned to Jackie, “Call Packard now, yeah? The sooner we find out anything that might help us get Terri out of this mess, so much the better.”

“Not just Teresa,” I reminded him tersely. “We’re hardly sitting pretty ourselves.”

“True,” Danny agreed with that infuriating grin of his, “We’re sitting ducks, yeah?”

“Must you keep saying ‘yeah’ after every sentence?” I admonished him. “It’s very irritating.”

“Oh, yeah…?” Danny flung me a defiant glare.

Jackie was already on the phone. “Yes, it’s me,” she was saying, “Don’t be like that, Miles. You know you don’t really want to be horrible to me…especially while Nancy’s away. No, I’m not suggesting mice can play. Now, would I? But there’s no reason we can’t share a spot of cheese, is there?  You really know how to make a girl feel wanted, I must say. No, no, I’m not complaining. What’s that, nine o’clock? Of course I can manage that. You know me, Miles. Your wish is my command. I’ll see you tonight then, at the Red Admiral.” She pocketed the phone, looking pensive. “He’s up to something. Well, of course he’s up to something. Isn’t he always? But he agreed to see me far too quickly for my liking. He’s not a man to forgive and forget, that’s for sure.”

“So what does he have to forgive and forget?” Danny beat me to it.

“I said I’d help you, not let you sniff my dirty underwear,” Jackie declared and greeted the widow, who had just entered the room, with a smile as it butter wouldn’t melt. I knew that look. Danny, too, was a master of the art. But I was glad enough to change the subject. The less the widow knew, the less she would fret.

I should have known better.

“You might as well tell me what you’re up to now as later,” May Finn declared and sat down at the table, “Forewarned is forearmed, and knowing you lot as I do, I’m sure I need to be.”

Jackie told her.

The widow frowned. “Laurence has a point,” she said. “The police should be in on this, especially if you manage to find out when and where this ‘auction’ is due to take place.” She gave a shudder. “It’s horrible, horrible, a sacrilege to say the very least.”

“Philip is no fool,” I said. “He’ll have his finger on the pulse, you can bet on it.”

“Perhaps,” the widow continued, “but he’s looking for a serial killer, don’t forget. It has to be a distraction, surely? It’s possible to be focused on one thing and miss what else is going on right under your nose.”

“True,” I had to agree.

“It’s like you said,” Danny was quick to point out. “Phil’s no fool…except maybe where you’re concerned,” he added and flung me an accusing look that hurt more than I cared to admit.

“I still say…” the widow began, but Jackie cut her short.

“Philip knows exactly what’s going on. He told me as much himself.” Three pairs of eyes rounded on her. “He came to Marc’s flat,” she went on, meeting my steady gaze with a near apologetic expression that changed, even as I watched, into an icy glare. “There was just Marc and me and…” She hesitated. “If you must know, it was your Phil who dropped me in it with Marc. Not content with letting on that Miles and I have a history, he had the brass cheek to suggest I might try and use it to everyone’s advantage. Everyone’s advantage except mine, of course,” she added bitterly. “Marc was furious. As for your precious Philip, he said to tell you to watch your back and then buggered off, cool as you please, leaving me to pick up the pieces his little bombshell had left behind.”

“That was out of order,” I fumed. “Philip had no right to compromise you in that way.”

“Huh!” Danny scoffed, “Out of order?  No right to compromise? Well, you’d know all about that, I suppose, it being right up your street.”

No one spoke as I scrambled to my feet and slammed out of the room. Once out of earshot, I called Ryan.

Being with Ryan had become a sanctuary of sorts. I felt completely relaxed with him and when we had sex it was as sensually fulfilling as it was sexually satisfying. A long, hot sensual romp would climax in an explosion of sexuality that left me feeling spent and happier than I had been for a long time. Until I met Ryan, I hadn’t realized how dull and predictable my life with Philip had become. At the same time, even in the first sizzling flush of my attraction to Ryan, I could still appreciate how there was a lot to be said for dull and predictable.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms and although it was only mid-afternoon, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

It was the pressure of warm lips on mine and a wet tongue gently making its presence felt in my mouth that woke me.

“Time to get up and get dressed,” Ryan announced, letting his head fall on the pillow beside me as soon as my eyes flew open, “We’re going out.”

“Oh, where are we going?” I yawned as my mouth sought another kiss...

“A club I know. I’m meeting a friend there but not until nine so we have plenty of time.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” I said, letting my tongue follow the shape of his full lips.

“On the contrary, I want to show you off.” He grinned and we fell into a hug.

“So what and where is this club?” I asked although I didn’t really care, I was just so happy he felt that way about me.

“The Red Admiral in Camden Town,” he told me and homed in for more hugs and kisses. “What’s up?” He looked more hurt than surprised when I failed to respond. “You said you liked the look of the place. Believe me, if it looks good to you in daylight, you’ll get a real buzz there any evening. It’s the sort of place where people know how to have a good time and get cosy at the same time.”

“Nothing’s up,” I lied, “It’s just that I don’t have a change of clothes and there isn’t really time to go back to the widow’s house.”

“You look great as you are,” he said and tossed me a wicked grin, “but if you insist on getting dressed, I can lend you a clean shirt and you’re welcome to whatever else in my wardrobe takes your fancy. Eric and I always shared our clothes.”

I’d have appreciated being mentioned in the same breath as Ryan’s erstwhile partner more if my mind hadn’t been grappling with more serious stuff.  Jackie was meeting Miles Packard there at nine so why had Packard arranged to meet Ryan at the same time. How would Packard react to my association with Ryan? I needed to call Jackie and warn her. Packard mustn’t know about her association with me. Nor, I kept reminding myself, must Ryan. It was my mess, not his and I couldn’t risk placing him in any danger along with the rest of us. Packard, I knew instinctively, would not be too pleased if he thought Ryan was siding (not to mention sleeping) with the enemy.

All Ryan knew of my association with the Packards so far was that I had been invited to one of Vince Packard’s parties. While it suddenly struck me as curious that Ryan had never asked me about that, I dismissed the thought at once for what it was, unnecessary baggage. As far as we were concerned, all that mattered was that we were in love.

I gave a guilty start. It was the first time I had consciously admitted to myself I was in love with Ryan. Did this mean I had fallen out of love with Phillip? But that was too complicated an issue for either head or heart to consider…for now, at any rate.  The Packards aren’t really my cup of tea,” I protested weakly as Ryan ran a steamy forefinger over my naked body, instinctively pressing all the right buttons.

“They’re not my cup of tea either,” he agreed, “but they pay well and beggars can’t be choosers

“Ah, but lovers can,” I teased.

He grinned at the finger following the outline of my circumcision ring. “I can’t believe they’re as awful as people say. Okay, so they’re not saints. But neither do they pretend to be. What you see is what you get. Besides, I asked Miles if it was okay to bring my boyfriend and he said he couldn’t wait to meet you.”

“We’ve already met,” I felt it best to admit and briefly related my encounter with Miles Packard during our previous visit to the Red Admiral.

I omitted to confide the connection I had made with the pick carnations in Miles Packard’s office, not only recalling that Philip had said the serial killer’s modus operandi was not for public consumption but also reluctant to be taken for a complete idiot.  Even so, while the greater part of me accepted I was being irrational, a niggling suspicion persisted. Nor did I mention the shifty looking character who had prompted my abrupt exit from the bar. It wasn’t as if he was of any interest or significance… was it?

In the end, I settled for borrowing a clean shirt and tie.

We arrived at the Red Admiral a little before nine. I had tried calling Jackie without success and could only hope she would get the message I’d left on her voicemail.

Ryan and I were at the bar when Jackie and Miles arrived together.

I needn’t have worried. Jackie showed surprise at my presence. Miles greeted us pleasantly enough and introduced Jackie to Ryan, “No need for introductions where you two are concerned,” he said, looking from me to her and back again with a steely glint in each eye that was neither friendly nor hostile and to which I wasn’t sure how to react.

“I should say not,” Jacky coolly observed, “I’m practically his sister-in-law as you full well know so don’t pretend you don’t. Now, Miles, did I hear you say something about champagne? No? Oh, well, I’m sure you wouldn’t have us settle for less, would you?”

Miles grinned and ordered champagne. “Bring it to my table,” he told the barman and we went through to the restaurant area.

If Jackie was acting, she was making a damn good job of it. She and Miles not only chatted away like old friends but also flirted outrageously. Moreover, I couldn’t deny she looked stunning in a grey lamé trouser suit.

Apart from Miles and Ryan exchanging a little shop talk, the conversation was general and, I have to say, stimulating. Over a delightful five-course meal, we tackled everything from the continuing occupation of Iraq by coalition forces to the latest roundup of suspected terrorists and various conspiracy theories surrounding the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

I listened more than I participated, unable to decide whether my instincts were telling me that Miles Packard was a serial killer or I was doing the man a grave injustice for even contemplating the thought.  He was, after all, only one among thousands who liked pink carnations. At the same time, I found it hard to believe it could be sheer coincidence, given the nature of Philip’s primary brief and his interest in the Packards. My consternation grew, the more I started to actually like Miles Packard, the end result being that I knocked back more than my fair share of champagne. “Excuse me,” I mumbled and made my way to the loo.

The toilet was scrupulously clean, which made a nice change. After all, poor maintenance, on the whole, of toilets in London bars, clubs and restaurants is legendary.

A tall, skinny man, hair dyed black in an unsubtle attempt to lose a few years, was washing his hands at the basin next to mine and winked at me in the long wall mirror. “I see you’ve scored with our Ryan. Aren’t you the luck one then? There’s a good few have tried and ended up sore when the sun doesn’t shine, I can tell you.”

“You know Ryan?”

“I wouldn’t say that I know him exactly, no. But a cat can look at a king, can’t he?”

“You talk as if he’s been around a long time,” I said warily, “You can’t have seen him around that often, surely? It’s not as if he’s worked for the Packards for ages.” I felt a mixture of irritation and unease with the familiar way he talked about Ryan as if he were some kind of desirable fashion accessory.

“You are joking? He practically lives here, our Ryan. Not a bloke to cross, mind. In the Packards’ pocket he is, has been since he was in short trousers. Hey, watch what you’re doing, can’t you?”  In my confusion I had splashed water everywhere. “This is a new suit, I’ll have you know. It ain’t off some peg either. Cost me an arm and a leg, it did. Worth every penny, though. A person likes to look their best, don’t they?  Look good, feel good and you’ll do okay, that’s what I always say…”

He prattled on, but I wasn’t listening.

I was less concerned about Ryan having told me a pack of lies than I was hurt that he hadn’t felt he could trust me with the truth. He must have realized I’d find out sooner or later, surely? Perhaps that was why he had brought me here, so I would see for myself that his relationship with the Packards was nothing more or less than a legitimate business arrangement. That is to say as legitimate as you can get with people like the Packards. Ryan wouldn’t let himself be sucked into their worst criminal activities, human trafficking, for example. Oh, he may be on the peripheral, but that has to be as far as it goes…surely? Didn’t I know only too well that guilt by association should never be underestimated? Take sexuality. Plenty of straight men, even nowadays, wouldn’t be seen dead in the company of a gay man.  It wasn’t so much that he was lying to me, I told my stricken expression in the mirror, as he was afraid I might jump to all the wrong conclusions.

“He swings both ways, you know, our Ryan,” my companion called over his shoulder while rubbing his hands under the electric dryer, “so I’d be careful if I were you. You never know where you are with that sort. Mind you,” he added with a broad smirk, “we all have to make hay while the sun shines, don’t we, eh? I mean to say, this is England. A sweetie she may be, but let’s face it, it never rains here but it bloody pours!”

He left.

Other people had been coming and going all the while, but I’d paid no attention. Now I dimly heard someone say, “Pay no attention, mate. You know what these drama queens are like, never happy unless they’re making someone else miserable.” I was taking my turn at the hand dryer and peered over my shoulder to see a short, silver haired man contemplating his flow at the urinal. It was the man standing next to him who had all my attention, however.

It was Shifty. For so I had named the shifty looking character whose habit of turning up where least expected I was beginning to find a trifle unnerving. Had the Packards told him to keep an eye on me, I wondered?

As I made my way back to the table, my legs felt like jelly and I was glad to sit down. 

“Are you okay, Laurence? You look a bit pale,” Ryan remarked and I forced myself to look him in the eye. He looked so genuinely concerned that all my earlier reservations crumbled on the spot.

“May we join you?” said a familiar voice.

I hadn’t noticed Ralph Packard approach our table.  I noticed him now alright, if only because he was accompanied by Philip.

“Sure, Dad,” Miles was saying.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ryan leaned forward, took my hand and feasted a loving gaze on me.

“You all know Phil…” Packard senior was saying.

Philip coughed politely.

My heart sank. At the same time, I doubted whether anyone at the table could have failed to register the silky, sinister note in Ralph Packard’s usually gruff voice upon taking it as read that we all knew each other.

A waiter arrived with two extra chairs.  Philip sat down next to me and Packard next to him.

After the meal, we spent some time at a roulette wheel before retiring to the bar. I managed to go through the motions of someone enjoying a good night out. During the course of the evening, I caught Philip observing Ryan on several occasions with the look of someone sussing out the opposition. I barely caught another word that passed between mouths opening and shutting around me like goldfish in a bowl, miserably aware that Ryan’s intention to show me off to everyone was effectively telling Philip our relationship was over.

My despair was complete when Vince Packard arrived on the scene, greeted me with a bear hug and murmured in my ear, “A car will collect you next Friday, you and the pretty Goth boy. Eight o’clock sharp. Oh, be sure to give my regards to the old lady.  Long may she continue in good health, don’t you agree?”

The implied threat, even more so than the man’s claustrophobic hug, made my flesh crawl.

To be continued on Monday