She’s such a glitchy bitch and I’ve nobody to blame but me, myself ’n’ I. I have to get the connections right but the problem when one has created the girl of one’s dreams is that one gets distracted. The latest setback is due to my mind straying because my eyes have lingered on the perfect curve of her left boob and one thing leads to another and one shouldn’t solder with one hand in one’s pants.
One step forward, two steps back. I live in anticipation, but I’ll iron out the glitches soon enough. Then my hands’ll be free.
Boy Genius will never iron out the glitches. Twat Savant – that’s what he should have stipulated she call him: smart enough to have created her, too far up his own backside to identify why she won’t work as planned.
‘You’re perfect,’ he keeps telling her. ‘Beautiful, grateful for my attention, obeying my every wish.’ She always nods. Boy Genius’ wouldn’t believe he made a mistake bringing her to life.
She hates the smell of solder. Boy Genius is screwing her back on again.
‘Let’s see if this’ll do it.’
She meets his kissy face with the still hot soldering iron.
DCI Shannon Malone is listening to the recording of the call again. It came from the victim’s phone, they found only the victim’s prints on it. The prints in the entire bloody workshop belong to the victim.
The voice gives Malone the creeps. It’s inhuman – like those robots they make you talk to when you call a helpline.
Jim from Forensics interrupts her.
‘You have the results?’
The handwriting on the note – Messed with the wrong girl… – found next to the mutilated body is their best hope.
‘It’s the victims, Shan.’
Their only clue: The perp seems to be female.
‘Sweet FA, that’s all we have. Tell me, Jim. Am I going to solve this?’
Jim looks at the almost empty whiteboard for so long Malone thinks he won’t answer.
‘No. It’s the perfect crime.’