The Whitechapel Case [abandoned]

Part 1: The Hypothesis (Chapter 2)

The Whitechapel Case
Fox-Trot-9

PG-13
Horror/Suspense/Mystery (How-Catch-'Em)
Disclaimer: I don't own Ghost Hunt or Death Note.

Part 1: The Hypothesis
Chapter 2

Day 1—The only sound came from the record player that wound down the vinyl record of the "Maple Leaf Rag" into static. Then true silence descended, leaving the four of them to brood over the consequences these monsters brought to their table. Martin's theory of two sadistic serial killers on the loose in London's streets hit everyone like a bomb blast, except maybe Noll. He had a few unanswered questions on his mind, two of them: who was the anonymous person his father was referring to? and why was his father withholding such information? Clearly, something was amiss.

Then the door bell rang.

"That must be Luella. Don't worry, Lin, I'll get it," and Martin got up, walked to the door and opened it. "You're a bit late; it's a quarter past two."

"I know; I'm sorry. I got a few errands mixed up, and I had to go back."

"That's all right," and he lead her to the private study. "Luella, I must introduce you to my new friend, Mr. Bert Gendal."

"Is he the one covering the murder of Nancy Benton?"

"Yes, and I have Oliver and Lin on it, too," he said; his wife stopped and just stared at him, as if she caught him red-handed in an illicit affair. "Now let me explain before you—"

That earned him a slap on the face. "Martin, how could you do this to me? You promised me not to drag Oliver into this mess!"

"I know, but I had to, dear; otherwise more innocent people would die."

"Damn it, don't you soften on me!"

"But please understand, Luella. I will do everything in my power," he said, holding her hands in his and squeezing, "to look after Oliver; I'll even ask Bert and Lin to look after him, if I can't."

"See to it that you do," and she cleared the private study avoiding whoever was waiting in there, but as she went up the stairs, she turned and looked at her husband. "Martin, did you tell Oliver about me and the stalker?"

"I told all of them, my dear. I can't hide any secrets, especially from him."

She nodded and went up the stairs, presumably to cry away the pains this day had brought over her. Martin saw her go, then walked morosely into the private study. The door was just half-open, but the three men sitting on the couches saw and heard enough to know how hard this string of cases were on both of them. Bert Grendal knew this first hand, married at twenty-five and divorced at twenty-eight. Any investigation, but particularly the ones dealing with murder, is a relationship-killer. No room for screwing around, no room for Mr. Softy; this line of work was for hard-nosed men and women with no qualms whatsoever of spending the rest of their lives as jaded recluses.

"Sorry about that," said Martin. "Today has been a lot for her...and me."

"We're only human, man," said Bert. "May I take these two out for a while. Just for a breather, that's all. I can tell this briefing has ruffled a few feathers."

"Do that, but don't be out for too long. Noll has a curfew: nine at night, midnight at the latest."

"Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on your boy till then."

"I know you will," and he sent them off.

"Oh, and," added Bert before leaving, "do you have a summary sheet or list of all the previous murders lying around? Just so I won't have to carry around all those casebooks."