Not everyone did.My last act was to set up the remains of breakfast around her. Broken bowls from the floor, shards of smeared plates, cutlery and pre...erves.Only serial perfectionists like me give any thought to how they want their victims found. Her husband would come home, as usual, about six. He’d find her there, a naked living-sculpture, splayed out, across the middle of the breakfast table he’d left her sitting at this morning.Finally, my signature.I plonked the boxes of Corn Flakes and. ’ She handed me an apron. ‘Starts now. Breakfast is on me!’ She said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen. Then she stopped. ‘I’m Katey.’ Well, that made sense, the place was called ‘Katey’s Cafe.’ ‘Dan.’ She nodded and went to work. Great. My new career. I got up and went to work too. The place was already spotless so there wasn’t much work to do, just a steady string of plates, cups, saucers and untensils. ‘You work good!’ Katey said that evening as she reached in the register. More

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