Murder On The Waterway: The Case Of The Kanaima Demon

Chapter Five

"What are you looking at, Georgie?" Dalton whispered, leaning over my shoulder.

"Nothing much, just the dots," I replied, my fingers skimming through the paperwork we'd gathered. I was hunting for the elusive missing piece: the scattered death times of the victims sprawled across my desk, akin to macabre parade markers. My workspace occupied a dimly lit corner in a spacious room divided into three sections. Behind me sat Dalton's office, and at the far end loomed 'Locke's'.

I examined haunting images of crime scenes, meticulously comparing the wounds and layouts, trying to discern patterns and unseen connections. I aimed to account for everyone who had come in, including Locke.

The last thing I needed was Locke catching me amid an impromptu revelation. The approaching blood moon loomed ominously in my mind. Uniforms were stretched thin, conducting door-to-door visits, and units were dispatched to areas as far as Hackney and Mile End to reassure a terrified public. Simultaneously, we fought to keep the relentless press at bay. Yet, like wildfire, Chinese whispers had already ignited, inundating our phones with calls.

ADI Locke staunchly opposed giving any credence to the killer, particularly since the perpetrator sought an audience. He thrived in the spotlight, every gruesome act a step toward a place in history. That much I'd deduced.

"So, Georgie, any breakthroughs?" Dalton's voice interrupted as he grabbed two grim photographs, one of each victim.

"I keep circling back to that chalky substance on Tracey's clothing and Rachel's fingers," I said, taking a sip of my coffee, the caffeine jolting me awake.

"Strange," Dalton agreed, furrowing his brow. "At first, it seemed like chalk from a schoolteacher, but Tracey, a waitress, wouldn't have had anything like that."

"I'm looking into two abandoned warehouses not far from each other. Fancy a drive?" I proposed, seeing Dalton's eyes light up at escaping the oppressive desk work.

"Sure, but a few things first. Have the ghost sightings started again, Georgie? And what about Andy? Do you think it's time to bring him back into the fold and give him a purpose? I keep reaching for the phone to call him, but I chicken out every time," I confided.

Dalton raised a valid point about Andy, given his likelihood of encountering experiences akin to mine. Andy hadn't recuperated the way we had, or perhaps he wasn't ready to face the darkness.

"What if he's not ready for this, Georgie? If the murders persist and become even more bizarre, he might crack," Dalton reasoned.

"Well, let's play it by ear. So, where's the first one?" I redirected the conversation to the investigation.

"It's an industrial estate off Gunmaker Lane. Some warehouses are still in use, but there's one halfway down that isn't. The problem is it's gated and still has an owner. Not enough for a warrant, but I can't shake the urge to check it out," Dalton explained.

I knew it was akin to searching for needles in haystacks, but two bodies discovered on the same stretch of road had to come from somewhere nearby.

"Well, there's no harm in looking. You never know; it could be an insecure premise. Those places often serve as hubs for drug dealing and storage of stolen goods. Just last week, PC Rogers stumbled upon a cannabis factory in one," I shared.

"Wow. What did he do?" Dalton asked with a chuckle.

"He got stuck with the crime scene. I asked him why he didn't take a break," I replied, half-jokingly. It almost seemed like Dalton might have handled it differently had he been in Rogers' shoes, perhaps partaking in some substances himself.