Heads or Tails: When life or death is a game of chance (DS Malice Series Book 3) by Rob Ashman

Author:Rob Ashman [Ashman, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

T here’s something wrong with Millie. I mean, other than the fact she’s had three of her fingers cut off, been starved of food, is dehydrated to the point where her skin is flaking and is pumped full of class A drugs and Fentanyl—apart from all that—there’s something not right about her.

What started off as a faint whiff of rotten vegetables has escalated to the rancid stink of week-old pork. I’ve been using her left arm for the injections and when I can’t find a vein site, I’ve used her groin. Which seems only fair. After all, her right arm has quite enough going on.

The fingers on her left hand are turning black. I googled the problem and it said that can happen if an addict destroys a vein supplying blood to the hand. If untreated it can lead to the fingers having to be removed. I felt better after reading that because that’s a job I am well prepared to sort out myself. The worrying part for me is the smell coming from her right hand. The amputation hand.

It weeps all manner of foul fluids and the bandages are stinking when I visit her in the morning. I’ve taken to throwing them straight into the waste disposal bins located at the back of the flats. Otherwise it won’t be long before the interfering bastard next door knocks to complain about a strange smell.

Her forearm and wrist are hot to the touch which would suggest she has an infection. Or that’s my diagnosis anyway.

That’s why I’m sitting in the pharmacy waiting for them to process my prescription for a seven-day course of antibiotics. Four 500mg capsules to be taken every day for seven days on an empty stomach. At least that stipulation shouldn’t be a problem.

Our local doctor’s surgery is so overwhelmed that getting to see a GP is like asking to see Santa in August. They use nurse practitioners to manage people with straightforward ailments. But they are equally over loaded and more often than not provide a telephone consultation service.

I asked for an appointment which resulted in a three-minute chat in which I gave a vivid description of a septic toe caused by an ingrowing toenail and… abracadabra … I’m sorted.

I look around the packed waiting room. The ring on my finger feels strange. I don’t wear a lot of jewellery and the new addition is a constant reminder of Gretta. It’s a beautiful band of white gold with a black onyx stone set into the metal. In my darker moments I torture myself with the thought that it was a gift from her to Millie. A symbol of their love. A token of their devotion.

I think that’s why I enjoyed it so much when the blade severed the tendons and cartilage and the ring tinkled as it ran along the enamel of the bath. I picked it up and popped it into my mouth to clean away the blood. It tasted salty.

The ring has been on my finger ever since.

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