He was scared to go back into the bedroom, but he knew he had to. He braced himself, slowly crossed the room and turned on the bedroom lights. Keeping his eyes averted from Fay’s dead and naked body, he put the flashlight, after carefully wiping it, on the bedside table where he had found it. Then he paused to look around the room.
He had touched nothing in the room except the flashlight. He was sure of that. He looked down at the blue-handled ice-pick, lying on the carpet. Where had it come from? Had the killer brought it with him? He didn’t think- that likely. If he had brought it with him, he would have taken it away with him. And how had the killer got into the apartment? Certainly not by climbing up to a window. He must have had a key or picked the lock of the front door.
But what did that matter? Ken thought. Time was getting on. Satisfied now he had left no finger-prints nor any clue to bring the police after him, he decided to go out.
But before going he had to get rid of the blood on his hands and check his clothes over.
He went into the bathroom. Careful to cover the taps with his handkerchief before turning them on, he washed the dried blood off his hands. He dried them on a towel, and then went to stand before the long mirror to take careful stock of his clothes.
His heart gave a lurch as he saw a small red stain on the inside of his left sleeve. There was also a red stain on the cuff of his left trousers leg.
He stared at the stains, feeling panic grip him. If anyone saw him now!
He ran more water into the toilet basin, took a sponge from the sponge rack and dabbed feverishly at the stains. The colour changed to a dirty brown, but the stains remained.
That would have to do, he thought, as he rinsed but the sponge, grimacing as the water in the basin turned a bright pink. He let out the water and replaced the sponge.
Turning off the light, he walked hurriedly through the bedroom into the sitting-room.