Mark was a perfectionist, taking pride in the fact that he always succeeded no matter how foolhardy his plan appeared and this time it was foolhardy indeed.
Stealing the Wainwright Diamond from the widow’s very finger wasn’t only ambitious but his friend’s assured him it would lead to a long stint in jail.
But he’d done it and as always he’d made his way down the parade to the West Pier to gloat with his friends, friends who were now laughing hysterically, for what he’d pulled from his pocket was a beer can ring.
The widow had won this round.
© Deb Whittam 2020