“West End Boy” by Robin Hall

After the meal we headed back to the Groucho Club. We were a few drinks in now. We went upstairs and had some cocaine in the restroom . . .

“No Prescription Required for Murder” by ID Smith

University College, London. Johnson marched me through the clipped campus, down echoing corridors, past alabaster busts and locked doors. At the end of a long corridor, he stopped at a door marked Private.

“It’s never too late for university, Cartier,” he said, knocking.

“Revenant” by Gerri Brightwell

The stink of Thames mud woke me and I knew he was back . . .