Jennifer reached the car park two minutes later. If anyone thought it odd that such an old, old lady was walking with the speed and energy of someone much younger, it didn't really matter to her now. She pressed the button on her car key, unlocking all the doors on her new BMW, then slid into the back seat.
With a glance around the deserted car park, she took off the felt hat, the grey curly wig, and the very heavy coat, which had been beginning to make her sweat, and shook her long blonde hair free. She bundled the coat, hat and wig into a black bin-bag, dumped the shopping bag in the footwell - there would be time enough to inspect the contents later - and climbed out of the car, and into the front seat. A twist of the key in the ignition, and she was sailing out of the car park and toward her flat.
As she drove, she thought about the incident she had just witnessed. Of course, she had seen everything, and she was genuinely shaken, but considerably more so when the policeman had turned up on the scene. Now, that had made her heart beat a lot faster, and she hadn't had to fake the tremble in her hands. Man! That had been real. Her eyes hadn't met those of the policeman, in case he had noticed that her skin was a little too youthful, her eyes a little too clear. Surely, law enforcement officers were trained to notice these things. Perhaps this one was a little dim, or was it just that people, even the police, see what they want to see? Looking back on it, he would hardly have had reason to inspect her old ladyish shopping bag, would he? But that hadn't stopped her being a little worried.
When she arrived home, she grabbed the bin-bag and shopping bag from the back of the car. She deposited the former into a wheelie-bin outside the flats; after all, she never wore the same outfit twice for her excursions. Wigs were easily obtained on the internet. She'd pick up a new hat and coat from a charity shop. There was always the possibilty that the shopping bag would be recognised, but it was a very slim chance. It was a very ordinary bag, hardly distinguishable from any carried by any other elderly person.
She looked down at the horrible polyester dress, as she waited for the lift. The pattern was one of turquoise roses on a lime green background. Revolting. But as it was completely hidden by her coat, it didn't really matter. It was just there to help her stay ''in character'', and she was starting to think of it, superstitiously as her ''lucky dress''.
She pushed open her front door and dropped the shopping bag in the hallway. Going straight to the bathroom, she started to run the shower, and pulled the polyester dress off, over her shoulders, and straight into the laundry basket.
After a long, hot shower, she wrapped herself in her favourite towelling robe and lay back on the bed. As always, after these excursions, she was tired - even more so after the unexpected event during this one. As she dozed off, she remembered the face of the other person at the scene of the crash. Had it been her imagination, or had they looked at her a little too closely, when she had smiled and raised her eyebrows? Oh well...no matter. She wasn't likely to see that person again anyway.
As she slept, her cat, Rolly, wandered out of the kitchen and over to the ordinary-looking shopping bag in the hall. He batted at the bag, until it tipped over. He sniffed at the bag of white powder - one of six - which tumbled out, then moved on, disinterested, and went into the living room for a nap on the couch.