“He opened the safe, took out seven hundred pounds and the American Express credit card before punching in the code he’d chosen – Lyn’s birthday – and locking it. Peter walked through the door that connected the two suites, dressed in a dark green casual suit. ‘What are you wearing?’ Trevor asked. Peter looked down. ‘I’m not sure about the colour either. The shirt’s nice though, linen …’ Trevor sniffed. ‘I’m talking cologne, not clothes.’ ‘I don’t know what it’s called. The bottle was in my suitcase.’ ‘Stick to the complimentary stuff in your bathroom,’ Trevor advised. ‘You smell like a Turkish brothel.’ ‘And what would you know about a Turkish brothel?’ ‘Not much,’ Trevor admitted. ‘Ever been to Turkey?’ ‘Istanbul, twice.’ ‘Ah-hah! Caught you out.’ ‘Ah-hah nothing.’ Trevor was irritated by the knowing grin on Peter’s face. ‘I went there years ago with Mags.’ Trevor fell silent. It had been years ago. And he couldn’t recall the last time he had thought of, or spoken about, his previous... and only live-in girlfriend before Lyn.MoreLessShow More Show Less
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