Page 44 of Two for Joy

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Will huffed dramatically. “Did you not even think about me?”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “No, why would I?”

“You really are heartless.”

“Why are you surprised? I’m heartless, void of all emotion. A shell of a person, and I always have been, don’t act all hard-done by.”

“Holly was hot, you describing what she wore was the highlight of my week.”

“And it was the low point of mine.”

“It’s all about you.”

Romeo frowned. “Well, yeah, actually it is. I don’t owe you anything, and if you’re gonna keep complaining, I won’t give you these letters.”

“That—that would be cruel.”

“Would it? Do I care?”

“Please, Romeo.”

“Say I’m not a heartless asshole.”

“You’re not a heartless asshole.”

“Not sure I should give these to a liar.”

“Wait—what?”

Romeo smirked, poked the letters through the bars, then shoved them across the floor. Will slapped his hand down on them. Then hastily yanked them into his cell.

“What goodies have you got today?”

Romeo didn’t stay at the bars to listen. He went over to the bed and held up the one letter he’d not passed to Will. The prison address had been printed, and the letter posted far away from Berkshire. Romeo smiled, tearing into the envelope.

Another magpie feather. He tacked his new one to the wall, admiring the two black and white feathers. Chad’s message that all was fine between them.

“At 8:30 yesterday morning, a body was taken from James Clerk’s address, believe to be the ex-footballer himself.”

Romeo pulled his gaze from the feather and looked at his TV.

“The ex-Lipton full-back had fallen on hard times in recent years. With his history of depression and drug abuse, it’s being speculated he took his own life.”

Romeo ignored the reporter, and focused on the movement behind her, or more specifically, the police presence. He could see a familiar mop of brown hair. Chad.

Chad wouldn’t have been called to a case involving suicide.

He was trying to catch the copycat, which meant James Clerk was his fourth victim. Not two months apart, but one month. The copycat was eager. Too eager.

Images of James Clerk appeared on screen, along with a report about his career and where it all went wrong. He was a big guy, thick neck—the killer must’ve been strong. James didn’t look like the kind of guy that would go down easy.

“Pictures of James had been controversially printed in the Canster Times eight months ago. He appeared to be snorting cocaine with a rolled up fifty-pound note. He apologized profusely and swore he’d check himself into rehab, but discharged himself after only four days on the program. If this, indeed, turns out to be suicide, many are pointing the finger at the newspaper for shaming him. Those at the Canster Times have blood on their hands.”

James Clerk, ex-footballer, lived in a mansion. Romeo could see some of the cameras on the property behind the reporter. There was no way the killer had got in and out without being seen.Idiot.

“We’ll update you as soon as this tragic story unfolds.”

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