Free Friends to Die For by Hilary Bonner Page A

George. ‘I was made to look a total prat. But now a bit of time has passed I do realize the prank played on me was pretty funny. I just want to know who’s
doing it, that’s all.’
    ‘We all seem to agree it’s the same person, and probably one of us, don’t we?’ said Michelle.
    ‘Definitely the same person,’ said Billy. ‘Same MO, as they say in the best detective shows. And obviously someone who knows Bob and George, their habits, and where they live.
What other link do Bob and George have, apart from Sunday Club?’
    George shrugged.
    ‘Can you think of anything, George?’ asked Marlena.
    George was just replying that he could think of no other link, when Greg and Karen arrived.
    ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Greg said. ‘Some bastard’s slashed the tyres on the van. Three of ’em, for fuck’s sake. Had to sort it straight away, ’cos I
need to get going first thing in the morning. Gotta big job on.’
    There was total silence as Greg sat down and helped himself to a glass of the wine that was already on the table. It seemed a long time before he became aware of the silence, or that all eyes
were fixed on him.
    ‘What?’ he enquired, looking around.
    ‘Whaddya mean, “what”? Isn’t it obvious?’ enquired Billy.
    ‘Isn’t what obvious?’ Greg paused, then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, no. You can’t possibly think it’s the same joker who took the piss out of George and Bob, can
you? That was entirely different. This is malicious.’
    ‘Yes, and it’s a different MO,’ said Billy, working it out like the lawyer he was. ‘As you say, entirely different. But if it’s not the same joker then we’ve
got a coincidence on our hands.’
    ‘Not really,’ said Greg. ‘Typical Saturday-night vandalism, if you ask me. I’ve lived in this manor all my life and these things happen. The van’s parked in the
street most of the time I’m not driving it, in residents’ parking. Just my turn for a bit of bother, that’s all.’
    ‘So you really believe it was random?’ pressed George.
    ‘’Course I do,’ said Greg.
    ‘No note then, like George and Bob?’ queried Billy.
    Greg shook his head.
    ‘Maybe it blew away,’ said Tiny. ‘It’s windy today.’
    ‘For goodness’ sake, no,’ responded Greg. ‘Look, we’re market. Expect the odd knock round here. Don’t we, babe?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Karen. ‘I honestly don’t know. I mean, nothing like this has happened to us before, all the years we’ve lived here, has it?’
    ‘Like I said, it’s our turn. And I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. So come on, I’m ravenous. I could eat a horse. Whoops, shouldn’t say that, should
I – who knows what’s in the burgers these days? Anyway, a horse might not be big enough.’
    Greg picked up the Sunday specials menu. He tried to avoid meeting Karen’s eye. She knew more about him than anyone else in the world. But even she didn’t know everything.
    He wanted desperately to change the subject. To move on from the matter of his slashed tyres.
    ‘Hey, half a roasted elephant,’ he said, realizing he was talking nonsense but not caring. ‘Just the job. Oh no. My mistake. Half a roasted chicken. Think I’ll have the
spare ribs again.’
    More wine was delivered, another Prosecco for Marlena, and a second round of cosmos for Tiny and Billy, while the group juggled the menus and finally ordered their meals. Alfonso, on duty at the
Vine, and Ari, off goodness knows where and on goodness knows what, did not turn up. Neither did Bob.
    It was quite usual for only some of the friends to be present, but none of them had really expected Bob to be there. Especially given the fact he hadn’t taken the theft of his plants well
and he suspected one of the Sunday Clubbers to be responsible.
    Nonetheless, in spite of the awkwardness generated by Bob’s absence and the unease caused by Greg and Karen’s news of the damage to their van, after a bit the evening settled into