He felt something soft and sighed with satisfaction. At last!

He felt along the small stones and, locating a hand, pulled it from the debris. Then he began to clear away the dirt from around the body, flicking it from the girl’s face fastidiously. Leaning out of the hole, he grabbed at the torch and shone it down on the corpse.

George tutted.

After eight days of death, Louise was bloated. Her semi-naked body was twisted grotesquely in the earth. Her lovely hair was caked with dirt and the eyes that were staring at George were a milky white. Her mouth was open in a perfect O, and George cleaned the dirt out of it with his gloved finger, like a midwife with a newborn baby. He searched through the dirt as he poked it from her mouth, rubbing it between finger and thumb.

No tiepin.

He began to unearth the rest of Louise Butler, searching her meticulously, the horror gone now as self-preservation took precedence over everything. He searched everywhere, even between her legs and buttocks. Her skin was spongy and when he tried to turn the body over, it came away in his hands, ragged pieces of skin sticking to his gardening gloves.

George tutted again. This time in temper. The bloody little slut! She could get him in trouble!

He looked at his watch. It was nine thirty-seven. He had been searching for over an hour. He had been through the dirt and all over the bitch’s body and the tiepin was nowhere to be seen!

Standing up, he began to brush himself down. The damp weather had made the dirt sticky and George was aware that he would have to leave soon, to be clean and ready for Elaine coming in.

Then, his temper getting the better of him, he began to kick at Louise, enjoying the feel of the soft flesh beneath his boots. He kicked at her until he was tired. His eyes were hurting and he closed them for a few seconds. When he opened them he sighed loudly.

Louise Butler’s face was a pulp.

George took off his gloves and pushed them into the pocket of his coat. He bent down and, feeling a delicious tenderness take the place of his temper, arranged the remains of her hair lovingly around her face, brushing away a centipede that was trying to get back inside the warmth of her ear cavity.

Satisfied she looked all right, George picked up his torch and made his way back to his car. He had parked it about a quarter of a mile away and walked to it, dirty and bedraggled and in a daze.

Where the hell was that tiepin?

Louise Butler was fully exposed to view. Her rifled body looked milky in the moonlight.