Page 45 of Her Lips Are Sealed

By the time Morgan got home the house was empty. All that was left of Ben were the crumbs on the kitchen side where he’d made himself a sandwich before heading out to meet Theo and Declan.

Too tired to cook, she made herself a couple of slices of toast then finally lay on the sofa with a book, to try and chill for a bit. After reading through the intel reports again that she’d printed off and finding nothing to connect any of her victims to her suspects, she lay with her book open on her chest contemplating what she’d just read. There was a reason these murders seemed so familiar. Her current book was about killers from the 1940s and 50s. She had been hoping to be able to switch off from today so she’d chosen this book, going back to a time when there was no technology or DNA, the term serial killer hadn’t even been invented. Morgan was always looking for inspiration. William George Heirens had been dubbed the lipstick killer. He had scrawled messages on the wall of the crime scene in lipstick. When she’d read that it made her break out in goosebumps. A chill ran over her so cold it made her skin feel as if she’d been lightly kissed by the icy breath of the grim reaper himself.

She sat up, throwing the book to one side, and reached for her laptop bag. She began to search for the lipstick killer. Was their guy copying him or was he sick enough to have come up with the plan on his own? Somehow, she doubted it. Her stomach churning, she watched as pictures of the writing he’d left on one wall at a scene loaded onto the screen then she sighed. He had dismembered his victims. Thank God this killer hadn’t stooped to that. Their killer had made his victims seal his unhinged letters with a kiss; Heirens had used a victim’s lipstick to leave a message. This had to mean something, though, didn’t it? Did their guy know about this? Did he have an interest in serial killers, because though almost everybody could name the killers from the 1970s – Bundy, Sutcliffe, Gacy and Kemper – Heirens was less known. Was there a chance the killer knew about him?

The thought that someone in sleepy Rydal Falls was studying killers to emulate the way they killed made her whole body shiver. She wanted to text Ben, but to tell him what exactly? It was just a theory, and one she couldn’t prove. Plus, Ben needed some time off. There was nothing they could do right now, except maybe visit bookshops tomorrow to ask if anyone had been in recently to buy books on serial killers. Had the others who’d searched Paul Graham’s house found any books? They never said they had, so she needed to check with them. She didn’t think he could explain the pictures of Rachel without incriminating himself and Ben had agreed with that wholeheartedly before reluctantly leaving to go to the quiz with the quiet hope that they’d caught their guy and no more bodies had been found since Paul Graham had been in hospital under police guard.

How many bookshops were there in town? One, calm yourself down, Morgan, you’re getting way too excited. The likelihood of their suspect going into a bookshop to buy books was slim, they were more likely to buy books on Amazon, especially if they wanted to remain anonymous. Who needed a bookshop when they could search for anything they needed to know on the internet? Morgan had done just that moments ago.

She knew her mind was working overtime and she got up off the sofa and began pacing around. What did they know so far? That both victims lived on their own, both had cats, both had been killed of an evening, both had been wearing bright red lipstick, notes found under the pillows of their beds, sealed with a red kiss.

A loud miaow as Kevin strolled into the room made Morgan’s heart skip a beat. ‘Oh hey, Kevin, are you hungry? Missing Ben and his Dreamies tonight.’

As if to confirm it, he began to rub against her legs, leaving white cat hair all over her leggings. When they found the killer, they might find cat hairs from both Rachel’s and Ash’s cats; in fact, they more than likely would. She would tell Ben this as well.

Going into the kitchen, she opened a pouch of Sheba and emptied it into the cat bowl. Kevin ate better than her and Ben. The smell of burnt toast still lingered in the air. She smiled at him. ‘You’re spoiled rotten, you know that, right.’ He totally ignored her and she shook her head.

The outside security light almost blinded her just as she flicked off the kitchen switch and the garden was lit up like a football stadium, making her jump for the second time in less than five minutes. Crossing to the window she peered outside. Now she was feeling on edge. Both victims had cats, she had a cat and she was home alone, but who would know that unless they’d been watching the house and saw Ben leave? Her hand instinctively felt in the dark for the knife block, and she drew one of the sharp butcher’s knives out of it. It was most likely another cat. Usually the garden lights were on and off all night long because their garden was like a cut through for every cat in the area. But because of the last two days and the research she’d been doing, she wasn’t going to pretend everything was fine and end up dead like the others.

She couldn’t see any dark shadows prowling around, didn’t sense that anyone was out there watching her.

Then a figure jumped up on the windowsill, making her screech and drop the knife. But it was just Peaches, the tabby cat from a couple of doors down who liked to sit and wait for Kevin to go outside.

Morgan laughed. ‘Brookes, you’re scaring yourself insane,’ she whispered as she checked the back door was locked and the windows too, going from room to room until she set the alarm by the front door. They’d got a little sloppy lately and hadn’t been using it. Until she got the killer safely in custody, it wouldn’t hurt to take extra precautions, she thought. She’d been the focus of far too many killers in the past. It wasn’t going to happen again.

TWENTY-NINE

They didn’t win the quiz, but they came third which was a massive improvement on their usual last place. Ben had bought a celebratory round of drinks, and Josie was beaming from all the compliments Declan and Theo had been lavishing on her. Ben passed her the vodka and cola she’d asked for, and she smiled at him.

‘Thanks, Ben.’

‘No, thank you. I can’t believe we came third, that’s like totally unheard of.’

‘You guys are really that atrocious at this whole pub quiz thing?’

Theo nodded emphatically. ‘Hopeless.’

‘Then why do you bother, if you don’t mind me asking.’

Declan took a sip of his Malibu and pineapple juice that had an umbrella and a cherry on a stick dangling dangerously across the top of it.

‘You know you look like Del Boy, don’t you?’ Theo laughed.

‘And your point is?’

‘Nothing, it’s just funny.’

Declan turned to Josie, ignoring Theo and Ben who were grinning at him.

‘Josie, we do it because it’s the only social life we have. We all have super stressful jobs, we deal with a lot of bad, hard stuff and this is our chance to switch it all off and act as normal as we can for ninety minutes even if we are hopeless.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound as rude as it did. I get that totally; I can’t begin to imagine how hard your jobs are. Please don’t be offended by me, I sometimes speak before I think.’

Declan patted her hand. ‘Me too, I get myself into all sorts of bother and you didn’t offend us. It’s a valid question that deserved a truthful answer.’

Ben smiled at her. ‘We like each other’s company and if we make time for the quiz, we get to see each other out of work. Otherwise it would be all work and no play.’

‘Makes Jack a dull boy. Why is Morgan not on your team? She seems like a bright, young thing.’