DEAD GONE. Luca Veste

she’d taken a module just to see if it was of interest. It wasn’t for her. After the interesting bits had been and gone, she’d been left with a bunch of long words, which didn’t mean anything really. She was happier with sociology, learning about the world around her, how capitalism works, theories, and all that sort of thing. How social policy affected all their lives.

      And she’d still ended up in the police. At least the degree had meant she moved out of uniform quicker.

      She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to leave. Pay her dues.

      Be the good daughter.

      Alessandro and Isabella Rossi lived in a small terraced house in West Derby. A fifteen-minute drive from the station, a straight run on West Derby Road to the town, and then down a few side streets until she hit their road.

      They’d lived there the past forty years, ever since they’d been talked into coming into the country with promises of endless work and riches. Alessandro ended up on various building sites, and then on the docks later in life. He got caught up in the dockers’ strikes of 1995 and now existed on their meagre pensions, bringing in just enough to buy the food that was always needed, and keep Papa Rossi in his Sky Sports and Lambert & Butler cigarettes.