For Prediction Fiction here
This weeks words: gangster, gull, pier
I tried to organise my thoughts. I was still wearing my third favourite dress, sea-foam green covered with black thready lace, like being under a pier. It didn’t look ripped or stained.
I couldn’t remember seeing DCI Kurt Petersson, at all the Spearmint Rhino, though he had said I wouldn’t be undercover alone. I was to look out for potential Irish gangsters, but accents get lost in the music and shouting.
I flirted to get close, get the
men talking.
Gulling them, lulling them.
Yes, accepting drinks.
I don’t remember being on the stage. Or anything much, really.
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