Ready. Set. Psycho.

Epilogue: Clive

           

Dr. Maguire stood near the open window of his office, smoking a cigarette. He was reading a newspaper with a bold front-page headline: PSYCHO FOUND DEAD. He smiled and took a swig of whisky and coffee from the mug on the window ledge. Linda came into the room and asked him to put out the cigarette. "I'm not going to do that, Linda. Can't you see I'm celebrating?"

"How long will you be celebrating?" she asked.

"At least a week."

"And you'll be smoking and drinking the whole time?"

"Yes, Linda. The whole time. We caught that motherfucker, and he's dead and this isn't going to happen again."

"Well, if you're sober enough, there is some work that needs to be done." She laid a pile of files on his desk, cleaning a space by pushing wrappers from the morning's breakfast into the trashcan.

Dr. Maguire put the newspaper down on his desk and picked up the first file. He leafed through it and tossed it onto the ground. He picked up the next and did the same. For the third, he stared at the photo on the first page.

"Linda!" Maguire yelled. "This file right here, when did it come in?"

"This morning. Girl died yesterday."

"She died yesterday, or she was found yesterday?"

"Isn't it your job to figure that out?" Linda asked.

"Enough, Linda," he said, ashing his cigarette and tossing it and the coffee/whiskey mixture in his mug out the window.

"Not celebrating anymore?" Linda asked.

Maguire ignored her. He was already swiping through the contact list on his phone, stopping at Sol's name and dialing. Sol answered. "We might have a problem," He said. He tossed the file onto his desk and it sprung open.

Onthe first page of the file was a photograph of a young woman with X's tattooed over her eyes.