George sat down on the sofa, an old PVC affair that had obviously seen better days. He noticed that the room was clean and tidy if very old fashioned. It needed decorating. He undid his coat. He gazed at the television screen smiling to himself. Leonora came back with the coffee and gave it to him.

‘So how are you now? I tell you, Mr Markham, this place is getting worse. The youngsters seem to be taking over. I don’t leave the house now of a night, unless I have to. What with the muggers and the Grantley Ripper, a woman isn’t safe any more.’

George sipped his coffee.

‘You’re absolutely right. I tell my wife that she has to be very careful. Very careful indeed.’ His face clouded.

Leonora lit herself a cigarette.

‘Did you go to the police station? Did they find out who did it?’

‘Oh, no. It’s a waste of time, the police can’t catch anyone these days. Or so it seems anyway.’

Leonora nodded, not sure what to say.

‘Are you divorced?’

‘Yes. Ten years now.’ She smiled sadly.

George watched her drink her coffee. Her hair was mousy brown and her eyes a watery blue. Around her mouth she had deep grooves. Not an attractive woman, he thought. His eyes dropped to her breasts. George liked her breasts. He had seen them many times.

He put his coffee on the table.

‘May I use your toilet, please?’

‘Of course. It’s the second door on the right, in the hall. You have to pull the chain hard or it won’t flush.’

He stood up.

‘Thank you.’

He walked out to the hall and went into the kitchen. Opening the drawers slowly and quietly, he found her knives and taking out a large breadknife, he slipped it into the belt of his trousers, covering it with his coat. He walked back into the lounge.

He smiled at the woman.

She smiled back.

Then he walked towards her slowly. He started to talk.

‘This ornament, may I ask you where you got it?’ He picked up a large vase, about sixteen inches high, made from cut glass. It was on the mantelpiece, over the gas fire. He turned back to Leonora with it in his hands.

‘Oh, that was my mother’s.’ She leant forward in her chair that was pulled up near the fire, her hands outstretched as if to take the vase from him. As she opened her mouth to speak again, her face froze.

George lifted the vase above his head and the action pulled his coat open. Leonora saw the breadknife in his belt and the heavy vase descending towards her at the same time. She felt the scream rise in her throat, but George was too quick.