Free Urge to Kill (1) by JJ Franklin Page A

could undermine the Inspector. Maybe he would start by sending him a small token, and, thanks to the new Mrs Turrell, he could send it straight to their home. It made him smile, as he imagined how this would worry and distract the DI from the case.
    Looking forward to the DI’s downfall, he reviewed his plans as he carried the meal through to the dining room. Mother annoyingly wanted to keep talking about his experience.
    ‘Did you say the Inspector’s name was Turrell?’
    ‘Yes. Why?’
    ‘That was the man who was responsible for getting little Gracie killed. You remember—Joan Harrison’s granddaughter.’
    She had his attention back. He remembered it now. Inspector Turrell had arrested the wrong man, leaving the real murderer to kill again. ‘Yes, I do remember. Let’s hope he does better on this case.’
    ‘He should have been disciplined.’
    Clive half-heartedly agreed with her while wondering how this past mistake had affected the Inspector. Either it would make him more determined to solve a case, or he would become over anxious and miss vital evidence. Not that Clive intended to leave any for him. There was little chance that he would be caught.
    As Mother chatted on, he allowed his mind to run through the plans for his next statement. He knew where to place it as, having often walked around the grounds of Heath Stone Spa, he had come upon the perfect spot.
    It was a wooden contraption with two seats facing each other, which swung back and forth depending on the input from whoever was seated there. Although rather a shame that the occupant wouldn’t be in a position to start the swing, once he had placed her there, he could give a little push just to start it off.
    The swing was situated at the end of a small pond, which had been widened out from a small stream. There was a little wooden bridge, more for show than need, which led to the putting green and the smoker’s tent.
    The smoker’s tent was a popular place as Clive had found after wandering in there by accident one day. He hadn’t stayed long, as the six ardent smokers, although at first eager to claim him as one of their own, were just as eager to close ranks on the outsider without a cigarette in his mouth, and who seemed in no hurry to light up.
    Before he strolled away, he noticed the several statuesque vases filled with colourful flowers at intervals around the tent, placed there no doubt to give an illusion of health and beauty to those who were so intent on destroying themselves. Similar vases were dotted around the health spa, and although they looked like expensive ceramic creations, he had found on investigation that they had a small hollow centre. A perfect hiding place for his props.
    His next problem would be to find a suitable subject and then to get her into the appointed position. Clive could hardly carry her out through the main entrance in full view of everybody, nor could he walk out chatting with her, as that would take him straight to the top of the suspect list.
    The added problem was that most guests only stayed a few days, with the odd exception, like Mrs Potterton who, according to the waiter, came for two months every year and sat regally alone in the dining room at her chosen and favourite table. She was too old to fit in with his plans, and Clive laughed at the ludicrous thought of her in one of his party dresses.
    This left him with two options: it would either have to be a staff member, or he would have to bring the girl in from the outside. He ruled out the latter, as that would be too fraught with problems, which could lead to discovery. A staff member it had to be then and in this mostly female culture, there was an abundance to choose from. His own masseuse, Lisa, was young and pretty, but maybe just a little too plump for the purpose, and her demise would put him under suspicion.
    Of course, the new Mrs Turrell almost fitted the bill but her somewhat elfin looks did not quite suit his plans. Plus, she would be