A suitcase landed in my garden. It seemed to have come from the sky. Soon after, two policemen urgently knocked on my door. Confused, I invited them in, they hurriedly went to retrieve the bag. Inside was a load of money, drugs and keys belonging to expensive cars. They inquired if the items were mine. ‘Certainly not,’ I said. After they’d gone, I was filled with questions. That evening the policemen returned and I was interviewed for an hour. I asked them for more information, but they were unable to tell me anything.
Drug deals occur regularly on our street. They happen in a flash; a hand through a car window, bowed heads and hushed voices. The flying suitcase incident added a touch of reality to one of my favourite past times which is crime fiction.
Nights in have become more inviting with the return of favourite crime dramas, including the Netflix series, Ozark.
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