Do not pass go

Her perfectly manicured, blood-soaked hand, discovered in the prickly blackberry bushes beside the moss-covered train tracks by two mischievous youths, was all the police had to go on. Who it belonged to, or how it got there, was a mystery. The youths had been trying to find a place off the frequented dirt path where they could smoke their first spliff. As they led the Gardai to the hand, they were asked what they were up to that tragic Saturday evening. They traded nervous glances, the garda knowing all too well they were up to no good. They were suspecting drugs, so they asked the boys if they had anything they wanted to give them no questions asked. The older of the two took the joint out of his dirty jean pocket and held out his hand, his head hanging in shame. ‘Please don’t tell me ma Guard,’ he said in a thick Dublin accent. The Garda took the contraband and nodded in agreement.

The case was passed over to the detectives, who arrived after dark. With flashlights and the help of the dogs, they found not only the other pieces of the victim with the manicured hand, but several other dismembered bodies, all at different stages of decomposition. It was official, they were looking for a serial killer. They decided they would put up a Garda checkpoint in the area and wait until morning to search the area more thoroughly, until they saw the fire.

There was an old, dishevelled building a mile north of where the corpses were found belonging to Irish Rail. Lenny and George were inside, panicking with binoculars, when they noticed flashing blue lights in the distance. It was too dark for them to see anything, but they hoped beyond hope that the Gardai didn’t find what they thought the Gardai found. Lenny, the bigger, more subservient of the two was pacing on the blood-stained concrete floor. George was keeping his cool, after all he had a lot more than his freedom to lose, he had the petrified girl they had captive strapped to a chair in the middle of the room.

George sat on a wooden three-legged stool beside his prey, knife in hand, wishing Lenny would calm down. ‘They haven’t found us yet!’ he pointed out. This did not comfort Lenny. He knew it was just time they needed before they found the girls, all of the girls. He was trying to count on his fingers how many there actually were that he himself had distributed amongst the brambles. Lenny was not a smart man and ran out of fingers fast. ‘There must be fifty girls out there George!’ he said with fear in his voice. ‘I’m thinking,’ George hushed Lenny.

George was thinking that the roads would be blocked at that stage, so it would be hard to smuggle his current treasure out of the area. Before Lenny could say another word, he sliced the girl’s throat. She made a gurgling sound before she went limp. ‘C’mon,’ George ordered a shocked Lenny. When Lenny didn’t move, George pushed him out the door and into the white 181 Ford Transit van. He doused the building with petrol and lit a cigarette. Once he was just about to drive off, he threw the cigarette out the window and the building went up in flames. His thinking behind running then and there was that the Gardai would have no opportunity to catch them in the act. He was confident there were no witnesses and even though he wasn’t certain, he was pretty sure the Gardai couldn’t retrieve any fingerprints off of the burning building.

As George was fleeing south, there were garda cars and fire brigades rushing to the old burning building. George’s plan was working. Lenny was catatonic in the van next to him. They had gotten away with it, or so he thought.

The next day the Gardai were going over the building with forensics. The only way they knew this was the kill point was because of the body in the middle of the room. It was noticed that she had been killed prior to being burned to a crisp. The only thing George didn’t take into account was the petrol can he doused the building with, that was as shiny and red as the day he bought it, prints and all.  

Lenny was oblivious to the fact that George had done time in Mountjoy for assault, twice, in a previous life. His fingerprints were on file. It didn’t take the Gardai long to find out that information either. They had a name. George had also bought the van on hire purchase, second mistake, the Gardai had a vehicle. These were all things George had not taken into account.

As Lenny and George met the ferry in Rosslare, they were asked for their ID as per usual. It was unusual however that they were brought aside and arrested. The Gardai had alerted Rosslare about the make and model of the van and identity of George. He was just too cocky for his own good. Upon inspection of the van, the Gardai had everything they needed to send them both away for life, do not pass go, do not collect €200.