Trust No Bitch: Part 3

Lilly Philipps

It was an odd spot that Gemma and Alice had requested to meet Lilly in, outside the kebab shop down the more insalubrious end of town. The walk through the town centre at 9PM in the evening wasn't the most enjoyable either, every sleazy stag do that she had to pass fruitlessly attempting to chat up her and every other unaccompanied woman they set their eyes on. Aside from them, the place was for the most part empty, her billowing breath, and the biting cold which welcomed it, at times the only entities in sight. Shivering, she hunched her shoulders up and pulled her scarf (cashmere, as always) over the bottom of her face, hands shoved into her coat pockets; all she could do, upon approaching Gemma and Alice, was nod familiarly and hope that, in spite of the darkness, they could tell it was her. The two were deep in what seemed to be serious conversation, Alice gesturing to the flat sitting on top of the kebab shop, its windows boarded up and its coat of paint peeling. They barely even acknowledged her until she was right there in front of them, and even then, it was hardly smiles and waves. More subtle eye rolls and disgruntled grimaces.

"So...what are we talking about?" She tried asking with a mischievous smile, though this only made the other two's irritation more patent.

"You're late!" Alice hissed, hollows under her eyes quite distinguished again, only visible in the glaring light of the kebab shops LED sign. "And what do you think we're talking about?"

"I don't know." Lilly replied with a shrug. "I hoped Channing Tatum or something."

"Yes, Lilly, because this look of intense concentration is one often observed in conversations about Channing Tatum's biceps." Alice responded acidicly, Gemma intervening before Lilly could react.

"You're like a 13 year old girl on an oestrogen high." She said. "It's quite unnerving, to be honest. You need some sex."

"You've got that right." Lilly replied, before glancing up at the derelict building they were stood outside. "Why are we here, again?"

"We're breaking into the office..." Alice made sure to add in some air quotes, along with a pointed pause, around the word office. "Of the psychiatrist who said that he counselled Mia Jackson and Dec Johnson. It's supposed to be up there." She explained, pointing to the flat above before reaching into her bag and passing Lilly a crumpled up newspaper clipping."That's him in the picture. Meet Dr. Miles Jensen." She said, as Lilly inspected the photo. The man in it was reasonably young, with tousled dark hair and what Lilly considered to be a rather spectacular jawline; he looked like he could quite easily play a doctor in some mawkish American medical drama.

"God..." She murmured under her breath. "If he was my doctor I'd let him stick his stethoscope anywhere he bloody liked. Why is it every GP I've ever had has been some 50 plus year old man, and not the daddy type, with Cornish pasty breath and an inability to grasp the concept of personal hygiene?"

"He's supposedly a psychiatrist, not a GP." Muttered Alice disapprovingly. "And he's working for the Supplier. Mia and Dec were murdered by them and this man's lies are part of the reason that both their deaths were ruled suicides."

"But why would this Dr.Jensen want to help the Supplier?" Lilly asked, handing the newspaper clipping back to Alice.

"Money." Gemma replied instantly, surveying the empty street and then beginning to shimmy through the gap between the kebab shop and the chippy next door. And she was right; Lilly didn't know why she'd even bothered asking. If a piece of paper looked right, most people would do just about anything for it. "The door is supposed to be round the side." She added, beckoning for Lilly to follow and continuing over her shoulder. "Or maybe Cleo fucked him over somehow. She fucked a lot of people over. Honestly half the people I knew hated us when we were friends with her."