Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 Read Free Page A

confess, it put a whole new complexion on the case.
    The heat was building to an uncomfortable intensity, pushing the stench along with it. A bauble of sweat trickled from my hairline as I took in a full sweep of the room. The scene was sickening but I had to take in every detail. I noticed her lounge was tastefully done, albeit in a generally grey theme. The silver-sheened goldfish blended nicely. Even the decomposing Mrs P didn’t look too much out of place.
    The recently orphaned fish rubber-necked serenely, drifting from one glass wall to another. Seeing them took me back to the place where it had all begun: the Friday queue at Lin Chiang’s Fish Bar. That’s where I’d conceived my brilliant new career plan: no up-front investment required, no previous experience needed. I’d finally discovered the vocation that had been nailed-on all along.
    Only two days into the job proper, and already I was in a career acceleration phase. My first client lay dead and my first case had just got a whole heap more complicated. Worse, it was touch and go if the cheque would clear. Ain’t no doubt, it’s plain to see, Eddie G won’t get no fee.
    I wasn’t new to on-the-job training but this was something else. I’d have to learn fast. With big respect to Fast Eddie , I’d have to be faster. First things first, I needed to examine the prone Mrs P.
    A close inspection revealed bruising and an abrasion that ringed her neck. An ugly swelling that blemished her near perfect skin. I couldn’t say I knew her that well, but she didn’t seem the type to strangle herself. The lack of an obvious offending weapon in the vicinity made no difference. This was murder, my lad, make no mistake.
    That apart, I had no leads.
    I prodded the body with my trainer, giving it the big up’n’over. Not a very pleasant sensation and it released more odours to torture my nose. After the body tipped, I crouched down beside her. Even at a shade over fifty and dead she was still kinda cute. But something wasn’t right and I didn’t know what. Her hair seemed shorter and darker than I remembered, but maybe that was nothing. Maybe she’d been to the hairdressers since I’d seen her the previous day. Her clothes seemed frumpier too – but then so did mine compared to our first meeting. I studied her again, searching for something else.
    I couldn’t get out of my head a stored image of Mrs P smiling at me, her bounteous breasts mocking me from under a tight cashmere jumper. Looking at her now, her chest seemed strangely diminished. I wouldn’t tag myself as an authority or anything, but those enhanced breasts were definitely a feature. We were talking “Ms January” on the WI calendar three years running. Was the killer some kind of macabre pervert who’d taken her implants as trophies? Aside from the lack of surgical incisions, anyone might have thought so.
    What to do? Call the cops or leave quietly? I tossed a coin.
    ~
     
    Sitting in the police interview room, waiting to assist with enquiries, I had time to ponder the meaning of life. Not so much the “What are we all doing here?” but more the “What the hell am I doing here ?” Apart from being busted, of course.
    My finger ran over the embossed business card in my pocket and I thought back to the unveiling of Eddie G Enterprises at Fingers & Thumbs. The launch had started so promisingly. Talk about glory days – does a day and a half count?
    As for the meaning of life, that seemed as meaningless as ever. I’d had a series of undemanding jobs since dropping out of college – either I’d left them or they’d left me. Even my last paid stint as barkeep at Weighton’s finest “Texmex” had gone Westward Ho! Then I’d lost interest in work altogether. But unemployed life in a small northern town proved to be no fun.
    At first I’d kept real busy, filling my days with the magical flicker of old movies. I watched all my favourites – and my dad’s favourites – reel to reel. I knew