Page 41

FORTY

At first the young man wasn’t very accommodating. Neither was his mangy dog. But she needed somewhere to sleep where no one would ask questions. She peeled off a fifty from the bundle of notes she’d stolen from Leo Belfield and waved it in the air.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked the dirty-faced man.

‘Everyone calls me Mick.’

‘Well, Mick, here’s some money. I want to rent your sleeping bag and this corner for the night. Deal?’

He swiped the money, unfurled himself from the boxes and newspapers and tumbled out of the sleeping bag. Wrapping the leash around his hand, he walked off with his dog.

She cast an eye around warily, wondering if anyone had seen the transaction. The supermarket across the road was closing for the night, shutters coming down. The car park was virtually empty. The corner was secluded enough. No one noticed the homeless people any more. They had become part of the infrastructure.

She could blend in. She was a master of impersonation. And a lot of other things. The smell didn’t faze her. The young man had sweaty feet, but the bag was clean enough. Pulling it up over her head, Bernie Kelly settled down for the night, to plot and plan for tomorrow.