Free Friends to Die For by Hilary Bonner

of the previous day: ‘You were very sure I’d get my stuff back, weren’t you, Tiny?’
    ‘I certainly was. True to form, I reckoned.’
    This time if Tiny picked up on any hidden implication in Bob’s remark then he chose to ignore it.
    Bob paused before deciding to persist.
    ‘Look, I’m going to ask you outright, no more pussyfooting around,’ he said. ‘Was it you, Tiny? Did you do it? Did you take my plants?’
    ‘No I bloody didn’t,’ Tiny shot back at him. ‘Hey, don’t go round accusing me, mate. I was your good Samaritan, remember?’
    ‘Ummm. Look, it has to be someone I know, doesn’t it? Someone who knows me and my place well enough to be able to do this.’
    ‘Could be anyone.’
    ‘I don’t have many mates, Tiny. George and I are both Sunday Clubbers. Looks like whoever played these tricks on us is one of the group. And somebody agile enough to climb on and off
my terrace.’
    ‘It’s not very high off the walkway. Probably rules out Marlena though.’
    ‘She could have paid someone to do it.’
    ‘For God’s sake, Bob.’
    ‘OK. What about George then? He’s fit. He’s always at the flipping gym. And he’s forever taking the piss out of me about my garden.’
    ‘George has also been a victim of a prank. You just said that.’
    ‘He could have played it on himself.’
    ‘What? George? Put himself in that situation with only a Mr Tickle suit to wear? Don’t be daft!’
    ‘Maybe you’re right. What about Greg then? He lives in Bishops, just a few doors from me. Knows his way about the place better than anyone. He came round the other night too. It
could have been him.’
    ‘Oh stop it, Bob. You’ll drive yourself mad, and what’s the point? No harm’s been done. Whoever did this will probably own up sooner or later anyway. Proud of themselves,
more than likely. Like we all said at Sunday Club, remember?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ muttered Bob.
    ‘Good. You are coming to Johnny’s this Sunday, aren’t you?’ persisted Tiny.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Come on, Bob, this needs to be talked through. You need to admit to everyone how upset you were when you thought you’d lost Danny’s pot, and that you don’t think
it’s funny.’
    ‘Well, I don’t.’
    ‘You laughed at George.’
    ‘Yes, and I wish I hadn’t, to tell the truth. The whole lot of us should have thought things through more.’
    ‘OK then, I reckon we have to put a stop to all this. We don’t want any more pranks, because we don’t want not to be trusting each other, do we, mate?’
    ‘I guess not,’ said Bob.
    After finishing the call Tiny phoned Greg to say the plants had been returned.
    Greg giggled at him down the phone.
    ‘Look, Bob’s taking it all a bit seriously . . .’ Tiny began.
    ‘I know that,’ said Greg. ‘He was dead moody when I called round, and I was only trying to help. Even though I’d guessed it was another prank. And you gotta accept that
it’s funny.’
    ‘Bob doesn’t think it’s funny,’ said Tiny. ‘Actually, he’s very upset. You saw that for yourself. You have to remember, Greg, that he thought he’d lost
the pot his kid made for him – he’s never got over Danny pissing off. And you know how daft he is about his prize pelargoniums. He once told me he regarded his pelargoniums as his
children now, and that they were a lot less trouble than a hairy-arsed teenager.’
    Greg’s giggling exploded into full-blown laughter at this.
    ‘Oh for God’s sake, Tiny,’ he said. ‘Now that really is funny.’
    Tiny, Billy, George and Marlena all arrived at Johnny’s early the following Sunday. Michelle came next and immediately expressed sympathy for Bob and unease about what
she felt could be an unpleasant edge to the practical jokes.
    ‘If you’re upsetting people then that’s not a joke, not as far as I’m concerned anyway,’ she said.
    ‘That’s what I’m beginning to think,’ said Tiny. ‘And Bob certainly does.’
    ‘Come on,’ said