Page 12 of Three Widows

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It’s interesting to stand and watch the aftermath of your crime. I’m a fair distance away from the army of law-enforcement stooges descending on the small patch of waste ground.

Fantastic location to dump a body. The idea came to me when I drove by last week. Hundreds, if not thousands of people trekking through the site. Adults and kids. Trailers, caravans and camper vans. Monstrously heavy equipment. A forensic nightmare. Plus, I wanted to display my work. To give them a puzzle as they try to figure out my motive. I am way too clever for their ant-sized brains.

I’m standing at the far end of the business park in a garage forecourt, walking around admiring cars I don’t want. It’s not yet open, but still, there are a few others here, so it’s easy to blend in as just another prospective buyer having a snoop.

With one eye focused on the guards and the forensic people, I wonder when they will realise they are up against a genius.

I have my reasons for killing. Will they ever work them out?

I have a great location for killing. They will never find it.

I already have my next target in captivity. I hope they discover she has been taken before they find her body. It’s much more exciting to be hunted while I do my hunting. Class act.

But my most immediate task is to identify the next dumping ground.

I might not find a place as forensically compromised as this, but I will do my best.

7

‘Look what the cat dragged in. Good of you to join us, Amy, for part of the day at least.’

Amy was in no mood for Luke Bray. Who did he think he was? Twenty-two going on forty. She knew she was late. She’d had to go home, shower and change into Dolan’s supermarket uniform. She was sick to death of wearing black trousers and T-shirts, but at least it saved her own clothes.

She unlocked her till. With a smile, she released the aisle barrier.

‘Good morning, Mr Rodgers,’ she said, scanning his newspaper and a carton of milk. ‘Anything else today?’

‘Two-euro scratch card. Nice to see you happy, Amy.’

‘I’m always happy.’

‘Told you to call me Kenny.’ He winked.

She knew his name was John, so she smiled. Before last night, she’d thought she must only be attractive to eighty-year-olds like Mr Rodgers; now, she couldn’t help the warm glow inside her body. It must show on her skin.

‘Who’s the lucky gent, then?’ He had a twinkle in his eye as he tapped his bank card. Yes, it shows, she thought.

‘You wouldn’t know him, Mr Rodgers.’

‘He’s a lucky man. See you tomorrow, Amy.’

‘Lucky?’ Luke leaned over from his till. ‘It’s you who’s lucky, not the dope you hooked.’

‘Shut up, will you?’ She could never figure out why he had to be so abrasive. He was a dick.

‘Did I offend you, contrary boots?’

One of the girls had lodged a complaint against Luke for using inappropriate language in her presence. Obviously he was trying to cover his arse now, but he hadn’t changed one iota. That girl now worked in the office. Perhaps complaining was a cute move.

‘You have a customer, Luke.’

She wasn’t about to allow that twit to dim her glow. As she scanned a basket of groceries, she wondered what Detective Larry Kirby was at. It wasn’t an idle thought. She really wanted to know.

* * *

‘Inspector!’ Grainne called from the tent. ‘Need you back here for a minute.’

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