Emma Hughes

Match Fac­tory Short Story Com­pe­ti­tion Win­ner 2016

The London Magazine - - NEWS -

Seal off the bar with tape. Bag the wine glasses, take notes. Cau­casian, six foot, 170 pounds Dis­coloured tooth. She was his mark. The table’s pro­cessed for fin­ger­prints.

He’s not on any database, but very com­fort­able around dead re­la­tion­ships. Look­ing closer, the lov­ing cou­ple Had a dark side un­known to friends. Stumped po­lice have their work cut out.

They drink each other like Scotch Wind up at the African joint after His lunch hit the kitchen wall, Red spat­ter re­vealed by Lu­mi­nol. An at­tempt was made to clean up.

His al­i­bis don’t make sense His sig­nals bounce off masts Miles from his place of work. He fails A poly­graph. The in­ves­ti­ga­tion takes an­other bizarre turn.

He’s on the psych ward, folded Like origami. She’s gone back to him. He never opens his eyes, talks baby. What they’re about to learn Will blow the whole case wide open.

The weapon was a mo­bile phone. Spent mes­sages were re­trieved. Eye­wit­nesses saw them row­ing.

Rid­dled with lies, she makes it to the wash­room. He’s al­ready fled the scene.

How many vic­tims has he claimed? This cold case is about to get colder, The ev­i­dence purely cir­cum­stan­tial. De­tec­tives must wait un­til day­light Be­fore they can search for the body.

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