38 Saturday 4 August, 9.01am.
There was no doubting it — the man was dead. The attack was just enough to make absolutely certain, but without him overstaying his welcome and running the risk of being caught.
Roger had been louder than he’d expected. He’d clung on for longer, the guttural roar unexpected, but thankfully planned for.
He pulled a polythene bag out of his satchel and put the hammer inside it, before putting them both back inside the satchel. From inside, he took out a long blonde wig, a brassiere and a pair of silicone pouches. He didn’t know what size the b***h’s t**s were, but these were small enough to be about right. The wig and sunglasses had done the job on the drive over here, but he’d have to be even more convincing now. Just in case.
He quickly assembled his costu
