Story Of Infamous Murdercouples: Devastating And Horrific Reality: Britain'S Infamous Killer Couples Event

The visitor was a black block amongst the florals. Stern and dark from the top of his slicked-back hair to the tips of his wellshined shoes. He kept his hat clasped between his hands as he spoke, taking his time to carefully enunciate each and every word - as if he was pondering over everything he said before he'd allow it to slip loose of his protruding lips. He was not a handsome man by any stretch of the imagination, brutish looking with his sloped brow, but it was his hands that the eye was drawn back to over and over. Hair had crept up the back of them, leaving bare-knuckles before sprouting on his fingers. Even that, though, was not the mortifying detail that kept the poor land‐ lady fixedly staring at her coffee cup. The hands were as big as her head. Each one of them could have encompassed her entire face with ease. Freakshow prurience kept drawing her eyes back down the soberly dressed man, back to his hat and the fingers there - thick as a paper-packet of sausages from the good butcher.