Polly sat on a chair by the door, waving Sophie, who was barely 16, to sit in the armchair in the middle of the room. “Good morning, Mr Rutt. This is
your lucky day,” Polly smiled at the overweight man who was sweating profusely.
“I put a bullet in the head of the last man who raped one of my girls; his body
has never been found. I thought you should know that.” The fat man began to whimper.
“You have been forcing your attentions on this young girl and I gather all the
hard-working women here, too.” Jo-Jo grinned, the thin-bladed knife tapping on the
palm of his hand. “Sophie,” Polly said. “I’m sorry about that twitch in your leg. Don’t be
embarrassed about it.” The slight girl suddenly
grinned and kicked out at the overweight man, catching him under his chin.
Turning red, the rage took over and she hurled herself at him,
clawing, scratching and spitting.
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