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Some people… they’re asking for it really, aren’t they?

I watch as the old lady hauls herself out of the car, pauses to check inside her handbag and nod to herself, and finally, finally, heads inside the shop carrying a big envelope. She’ll be going to the Post Office counter at the back, and at that speed she’ll be lucky to get there before closing time.

When I tug the handle it gives… Who leaves a car unlocked, even if they’re just dropping something off?

The canvas tote bag on the passenger seat is heavier than it looks. Letting the door close behind me, I cut through a gap in the traffic, bag swinging at my side.

Don’t run. Don’t do anything to draw attention. Just walk.

I’ll be on CCTV, of course. Most of the shops have something fitted, because you can’t trust anyone these days, can you? But I’m not too bothered. I have my hood up, and I’m wearing a pair of designer shades I lifted from an Audi the other day.

Just walk away. Nothing to it.

There’s unlikely to be anything in the bag worth having, of course. She’s probably just done her shopping. A few tins of beans would explain the weight.

I hope she has decent taste, at least. Proper Heinz beans, rather than the bargain stuff. Maybe some decent ready-made meals – not that crap you have to do yourself. I can’t be bothered with actual ingredients. Don’t see the point when you’ve got a microwave.

Of course, if my luck is in, there might be a bottle or two of something nice, maybe even her phone or something else with a bit of resale value.

Ten minutes’ steady walk away, and halfway down the railway embankment where a felled tree provides a nice sitting place that’s not overlooked, and I finally let myself open the bag.

Inside, there’s a package, bound tightly in brown tape. No address label, and she hadn’t taken it into the Post Office, so she can’t have intended to post it.

As soon as I lift the bundle out of the bag it feels all wrong. Too heavy. Hard in places beneath the packing, soft in others.

I reach into the pocket of my hoodie and produce the nifty little flick knife my old man gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I’m still only seventeen, but that blade has seen some action. Got to defend yourself, haven’t you? And get a bit of respect.

I slide the blade under a layer of tape. It cuts easily and I pull the packaging open.

I drop it immediately, then lean forward to look more closely, sure I must be mistaken, but no…

There’s pale skin, and the dark meaty red of blood, muscle, a glint of white bone.

The package contains a hand, cut off at the wrist.

Wild thoughts leap through my head.

That old lady – did she know what was in her bag? Is she some kind of serial killer, disposing of body parts? One so good at the game that she’s reached a ripe old age and never been caught?

Does the hand belong to her old man? Killed and cut to bits, so she can dispose of him piece by piece?

That’s when I glance over my shoulder and there she is, the old woman, standing just up the slope. How did she get here? What’s she doing?

“That was the last one,” she says, and still it makes no sense. “Just like you, he was…”

Then an old man steps out around a tree, a hefty hammer swinging casually from his hand. Behind him, another old man, then a woman, and more of them, each armed – a saw, a mallet, a machete…

All of them shaking their heads as if to say, I’m not angry, just disappointed.

“The youth of today,” the first old woman says. “Him…” She points towards the bag with her chin. She must be talking about the owner of that hand. “Thought he could just steal my purse, he did. Well I’m telling you, I’m having none of that. We’re having none of that, are we?”

And as the mob mumbles their agreement, they start to close in.

The old man with the hammer is closest now, nodding his agreement. “We’ve had enough,” he says. “You think we’re easy pickings, don’t you? Well it’s time for that to change. Time for us to make a stand. Time for us to rebel…”

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Nick Guthrie is a crime writer based in Suffolk. His short fiction has been published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and other magazines and anthologies. His first crime novel is due to be published in November 2026. Under other writing names, he is the author of more than twenty books, and his work has been shortlisted for various awards and optioned for the movies. You can find out more about Nick and his work at www.nickguthrie.co.uk