While no one was looking, Eustacia took the victim’s finger from her Coach purse. It was wrapped in Prada, the ring on it — Louis Vuitton. The Tiffany Blue lining of her purse was unscathed. For this, she was thankful. A Tide pen wasn’t going to take that stain out.
She sat on the fountain’s edge in the middle of the park. Its elaborate marble edifice of lions roaring water soothed her.
This was her first time. She got the leather gloves right, she was certain. But this part, her signature, this was going to be the pièce de résistance.
It was the middle of the day: work and school kept most people indoors. She laid the handkerchief by her side, pulling on the corner, unraveling her package.
The long, white index finger spun around and slipped gently into the fountain, sinking to the bottom as tiny bubbles danced around it.
She stuck the kerchief in a plastic bag. She would deal with that later. After she put that in its pocket, she pulled out her lipstick and reapplied. It was time for some lunch.