Madison again declared Murphy and Jack’s innocence, and then the stream ended. The sound of the fire crackling and Butch taking deep draws on his joint filled the silence.

‘Well,’ said Skinner, ‘someone is on your side. Her support should go a long way. But I wonder why someone is trying to pin it on Michaels?’

‘One of the only men in this town who couldn’t have done it,’ muttered Murphy. ‘Vouched for by all the little schoolgirls. But I wouldn’t argue with someone who wanted to set that mob onto him.’

‘You’re still sore about the seeds, are you?’ said Skinner, overly casual.

‘Of course we bloody are,’ said Butch, glaring fiercely. ‘You know how long it took Dad to breed our strain? There’s a reason you can sell for so much – because it’s bloody good. Jack bloody well stole our seeds and you bloody let him!’

‘I didn’t know he would, did I! In his defence, he got rid of them all – he’s always asking to buy more weed,’ said Skinner. He held up his hands to cut off the protest he knew was coming. ‘I know, I know – I haven’t sold him any, have I? But he’ll just get it off someone else. Tom North and him are good mates, and Tom buys more than enough from me.’

‘Then stop selling it to Tom,’ said Murphy.

Skinner laughed, but it was forced. ‘You wanna lose that much income? Honestly, Jack made a mistake – a stupid mistake – but he’s good now.’

‘We welcomed him into our house. We treated him like a little brother,’ said Butch. ‘And how did he repay us?’ He stood up, staggered, sat back down. He swiped at something in front of him.

‘Everyone goes a little crazy over money, Butch, and we all know he was struggling for it.’ He eyed Butch uneasily. ‘Mate, you’re burning yourself.’

Butch stood again, chest puffed up. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Bloody hell, mate. What have you got in that thing?’ Skinner snatched the joint away from Butch’s finger and licked it. ‘You put angel dust on this thing. How much?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Butch, scowling at the wall. ‘Although . . . that would explain the freaky shit I’m seeing.’

‘I think you’ve had enough.’ Skinner opened the fireplace and tossed it in.

‘Hey,’ roared Butch.

‘I told you the other night not to go to heavy on the stuff: even that tiny bit made you aggro.’

‘Come off it. Weed never makes me aggressive,’ said Butch, standing over Skinner.

‘But angel dust does a bunch of crazy shit.’ Skinner glanced at Murphy. ‘Murphy, help me calm him down, would you? Shit, you haven’t had some too? You were bloody scary the other night.’

‘Butch, take a seat,’ said Murphy.

Butch sat back down, ‘Where’s my phone? I’m calling someone over.’