Rosary girls

42

"Is this Mr. Amis?" the sweet voice on the phone inquired.

"Hello, love," Simon said, pouring on the North London. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," she said. "What can I do for you tonight?"

Simon used three different outcall services. For this one, StarGals, he was Kingsley Amis. "I'm frightfully lonely."

"That's why we're here, Mr. Amis," she said. "Have you been a naughty boy?"

"Terribly naughty," Simon said. "And I deserve to be punished."

While he waited for the girl to arrive, Simon looked at a tearsheet of the front page of the next day's Report. He had the cover, as he would have until the Rosary Killer was caught.

A few minutes later, as he sipped his Stoli, he imported the photos from his camera into his laptop. God, he loved this part, when all of his equipment was synched up and working.

His heart beat a little faster as the individual photos popped up on the screen.

He had never used the motor drive function on his digital camera before, the feature that allowed him to take a rapid series of photographs without resetting. It worked perfectly.

In all, he had six photographs of Kevin Byrne coming out of that vacant lot in Gray's Ferry, along with a handful of telephoto shots at the Rodin Museum.

No back alley meetings with crack dealers.

Not yet.

Simon closed his laptop, took a quick shower, poured himself a few more inches of Stoli.

Twenty minutes later, as he prepared to open the door, he thought about who would be on the other side. As always, she would be blond and leggy and slender. She would be wearing a plaid skirt, navy blazer, white blouse, knee socks, and penny loafers. She would even carry a book bag.

He was a very naughty boy, indeed.