Free Friends to Die For by Hilary Bonner Page B

a
normal Sunday Club session. But that was only how it seemed. In truth, everyone around the table, including Greg, who had put on such a show of being dismissive, was uneasy.
    Greg kept his head down and concentrated hard on his spare ribs in barbecue sauce, thankful that he had chosen a dish that demanded his full attention. Karen kept glancing at Greg anxiously and
said little. Tiny, Billy and George all talked too much. Michelle and Marlena both picked at their food. Marlena, witty caustic Marlena, who normally had a riposte for everything, was unusually
silent.
    There was a common preoccupation, of course. Questions that lurked in the back of the minds of at least six of the seven assembled members of the group, or perhaps all of them.
    Could those tyres have been slashed by the same person who had played pranks on Bob and George? Could it really be one of their supper club? Could that person actually be sitting at the
table?
    Or was Greg right, and this latest incident was just a random case of inner-city vandalism?

five
    The next day Marlena, dressed in blinged black as usual, a mink cape tossed carelessly over her shoulders, wearing full make-up and false eyelashes, even though it was not yet
9 a.m., was still thinking about the previous evening when she set off for the Soho deli which was probably her favourite food shop in the world.
    Marlena lived in a block of flats, converted in the seventies from a disused fruit-and-veg warehouse, at the heart of Covent Garden right by the Opera House.
    ‘Where else?’ she would ask.
    She rarely strayed beyond the perimeters of the Garden.
    ‘Why ever would I, darlings? Covent Garden is the centre of the universe,’ was another of her sayings.
    Her regular Monday-morning excursion to Franco’s Deli was an exception. It was, after all, only a twenty-minute walk from her home, and she actively looked forward to it.
    Soho was at its quietest at this time of the week, and Marlena often had the whole wonderful shop to herself. She did not eat a great deal, but she liked to tickle her taste buds with assorted
delicacies. Normally her only preoccupation as she made her way through the city streets was to plan exactly what selection of delights she would treat herself to, but this particular Monday
morning was different. Marlena was worried. Her life for several years now had been ordered and pleasant. She had good and interesting friends, a comfortable flat in the middle of an area she
considered to be the very best place to live, and her demons had left her alone for some time.
    There were aspects of Marlena’s past life that would cause her a great deal of trouble were they ever to become known. But Marlena had almost forgotten that. It was all so far behind her
that she had allowed herself to believe she’d got away scot-free. At her somewhat substantial age – she had taught herself to forget the precise figure – Marlena had finally found
a kind of peace. Or as much peace as a woman like her could ever achieve.
    But that peace had been disturbed by the series of incidents involving three members – possibly four, if you counted Karen as well as Greg – of the little group whose company she so
enjoyed. It particularly disturbed her that the ‘joker’ responsible had yet to own up, leading to an atmosphere of distrust and suspicion among the friends.
    She wasn’t exactly fearful. The incidents had been fairly trivial, after all. And while she was concerned that she might be the joker’s next target, she didn’t believe there
was anything they could do that would cause a real upset in her life. She was too careful for that. These days, people thought of her as an eccentric old woman. Her past was far behind her now and
buried so deep no one would ever suspect.
    Even so, Marlena couldn’t stop feeling anxious.
    She pulled her mink cape more tightly around her shoulders. The weather had turned cold again. As she touched the soft fur she was reminded of the