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After yet another sleep deprived night I dragged myself into work. It all seemed to be as convenient as I had told Turlock. A single strand of hair was all that stood between us having a suspect and grasping at smoke. A single, strategically placed strand of hair was all the evidence that we had. It was far too convenient to be real evidence, in my opinion. It even had a root follicle. In my mind there was no doubt that this was all designed and staged and if we dug just below the surface we would find that all of this was just an illusion.
I sat at my desk and rubbed my hands over my face and yawned, thinking, not for the first time, why on Earth I never developed a taste for coffee. That was before a mug of steaming tea was placed in front of me on the desk. Its contents spilled slightly, causing yet another stain on my wood patterned plastic desk. I looked up to see Turlock looking as alert as ever, even at this early hour.
“I swear you don’t need to s-sleep” I said quelling a yawn.
He smiled slightly, “Indeed sir. I have some good news and some bad news for you."
At that, he turned and proceeded to sit at his own desk and placed the newspaper in his hands onto his desk.
I sighed, “Tell me the good, it’s far too early to be getting bad news.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know that you were right in saying that it wasn’t Tucker. He spent his time from around 6pm in a cell here at the station, grand theft auto and drink driving.” His face turned grave, “I lied though, sir.”
“What?” I asked in confusion sitting up and leaning my elbows on the desk. He had my attention now.
“Well sir,” he started looking sheepish, “I’ve got more than one piece of bad news for you.”
I felt like banging my head on the desk when I heard him say this. “So you’re telling me that the loss of our only suspect was the good news. What the hell is the bad news?!”
“The Valiant found out about the Denver murder and it’s on their front page.”
I groaned, “Of all the rabble raising rags that could get hold of this story before we got any evidence it had to be them!” Now I really wished that I had stayed in bed this morning.
“That’s not everything I’m afraid.” Turlock said as he stood up and passed me the paper. “They know more than they should. They know about Tucker, the hair, the fact that we have no clues. Whoever told them is either part of the investigation or…” he trailed off.
“Or they are the killer.”
I concluded looking at the red top in a dazed manner.
“Indeed sir. The Detective Superintendent has called all of us to come to a meeting in about five minutes in light of what has happened with the case and how we’re going to get back into good graces with the public and show them that this ‘Phantom Throttler’ isn’t something that they have to worry about.”
I peered at him, curious about his word choice until I realised that ‘Phantom Throttler’ was the name that The Valiant had given our mysterious killer. The paper had a picture of the dead girl from her secondary school yearbook photograph and an even a shot of the crime scene. The article talked about an anonymous source that had clued them in of the police department's going ons. Bringing to light that the investigation had hit another dead end, and how we were ‘bumbling around in the dark’ desperately searching for any evidence that might come our way. My hands clenched around the edges of the paper, causing the entire thing to crumple out of shape.
“Damn right someone leaked this information. And they are definitely from this department, or the pathology team. Speaking of the pathology team, when are we due to see the body?” I asked throwing the paper in the small bin next to my desk in disgust.
“Directly after the meeting I believe, sir. Dr. Setwell wants to show it to you quickly as it’s a ‘straight forward cadaver’. Her words not mine.”
Usually I would have smiled at Turlock’s attempt to imitate the doctor but I found that on this occasion I could not muster even the smallest chuckle.
“Moving on, don’t we have a meeting to get to?” I said as I got up straightening my black pinstriped suit as I started to walk out of the room with Turlock following behind me.
The board room was set out with rows of chairs facing away from the door towards the wall that usually showcased the projector screen. Some of the chairs were already occupied, but I noted than none were from the first two rows. This was most likely because of the thunder-faced man who was stood at the front glaring at the room, making the atmosphere heavy with apprehension. I sighed. I knew it was expected of me, as a senior member of the force, to lead the way for my subordinates. But the idea of sitting in front of a man on a war path was far from appealing to my sense of self preservation. Nevertheless, I walked straight-backed to the middle of the front row and sat down with Turlock joining me on my left.
I was just about to say something to Turlock when Peters gracelessly flopped into the chair to my right followed closely by a very nervous looking Pc Carter. I felt a pang of sympathy for the girl being sat in the front seat as our boss yelled at us, for what would feel like hours but would turn out to be less than ten minutes of yelling without him taking a single breath.
“Well sir,” Peters started with one of his trade mark grins. “Couldn’t let you two sit here and take all the good seats to yourselves. Isn’t that right, Em?” He asked the girl.
As expected the woman’s eyes grew a little wider and she nodded her head slightly before staring at the wall ahead of her and probably wishing she had postponed her application to join CID by a few months if not years. I watched her as Turlock and Peters made small talk adding to the buzz of conversation around the board room. She took deep breaths and steadied herself as more people filed into the room. I almost smiled at her resolve to quell her fear and continue where most would have given up already. She would make a fine addition to our unit. There was no doubt about it.
Suddenly the room went quiet and the governor began his speech with his four trademark words, “What the hell happened?!” He demanded angrily, signalling the start of the meeting.
I mentally sighed, this indeed was going to be a long, long lecture on security and investigation protocol that I neither wanted nor had the time for. With each passing second the murderer was free to walk around and kill, as much as it pleased him to do so. And I had no doubt that this 'Phantom Throttler' wouldn’t disappoint me in the slightest.
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To Catch A Killer
Mystery / ThrillerFour years after the death of his Ex-wife DCI Thomas 'Tommy' Smith is investigating a murder that is extraordinarily similar and not just because the victims were both women. Questions arise when another woman is found strangled by her hair. Was the...
