Match Factory Short Story Competition Winner 2016
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.