Eyes Of Mr D (Part 4)

Entering the flat the Constable found no one there. He searched every room, nothing, only the fired gun on a note left on the table. He had noticed the back window was left slightly ajar. He picked up the note and quickly read it through, then put it in his pocket along with the gun. He smiled to the neighbour as he left the flat. He told her to lock it; Mr D would be coming back. At the car he got in saying that, they had to go back to the station. He sat on a bench near the waters edge. The white walking stick resting between his legs. He could not look at his watch, as that would give the game away. A blind man is not supposed to see, so he had no idea of the time. All he could tell that day was turning into night. He stood up; he had to stretch his legs. He moved along to the bench by the bridge. The dark waters of the lake, lapped against the shore. Then he heard the footsteps walking across the wooden bridge. He knew by the sound they were of a woman’s shoe. He did not look up to see who it was, just listened, as they got closer, until they were in front of him. He could now see her face, under the light of the moon. Her hair was dark, and danced on her shoulders. He wanted to say something, but though he better not. The killer could be lurking, in the bushes somewhere, waiting for his chance, when he thought the coast was clear. She stopped and stood, near the waters edge; she watched the moon’s silver finger dance on the breeze-ruffled waves. He sat unnoticed except for his white walking stick. The blind could see nothing at least that is what he hoped anyone passing would think. Then from the darkness, he emerged. A mask of death he wore. He moved quietly up behind the woman, extended his hands out to her neck. To be concluded……