“How dare you burst in here?” the tubby man who resembled Hercule Poirot
shouted. “You fellow, stop that, I’ll call the police.” Sowerbutt sat on the desk and pushed the telephone towards Shapiro. “Be my
guest. Looking forward to hearing you explain the
restricted goods in your warehouse. That crate of shooters and the
medical supplies are naughty.”
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Smoke-London-Sowerbutt-Novels-ebook-x/dp/B00RYR8BWG geoffreyhowe.wix.com/howebooks
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