To Catch A Killer

To Catch A Killer (16) At the End (Watty Awards 2012)

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For the first time in this case we were outside looking at a crime scene, and in the rain.

The alley was dark and narrow with a line of large bins occupying one side and soggy cardboard boxes along the other. Rubbish and unidentified substances were strewn in all the ground in between the objects the sides. I could hear rats scuttling in the shadows, their beady little eyes watching us cautiously. I couldn’t stand rats in the daylight, let alone at three in the morning, in the dark.

The body was once again female. She was a Caucasian in her late twenties. Her dyed blonde hair and face lathered with makeup that was now ruined by the rain indicated the obvious; she had been on a night out. The cadaver's hands had strands of blonde hair clutched in them. We would send those to the lab to be analysed, but judging from the similar dark roots on those strands which were identical to the strands on her head, they most likely belonged to our victim. This was a strong indication that she had been murdered much like all the other victims before her had been; strangulation by her own hair.

Her clothes were rumpled and her top was even torn slightly at the hem, suggesting that she had put up quite a fight. However, if the reek of alcohol was any indication, she had probably been intoxicated during the time of attack. That and the fact that most of the rumples in her clothing were on the back, meant that the murderer had attacked her from behind; she didn't even stand a chance.

We had officers combing through a two block radius of the crime scene, questioning people and taking statements, but there were no witnesses and no other evidence so far.

“It’s the same as the last one, sir,” came a voice from behind me.

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  My protégé was up like the rest of us, all of us with the exception of Peters. Peters had been removed from the case due to his relationship with one of the victims.

“Have you seen the body yet Turlock?” I asked turning to look at the young DI.

He was dressed in his usual dark blue suit and black tie and looked as impeccable as ever, even at this ungodly hour that we had been called out. He shifted slightly, turning to get a better look at the now covered up body.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, his eyes slowly leaving the white sheet to lock gazes with me.

I nodded at him and went back to studying the dark alley way. The rain trickled down my face, plastering hair to head and clothes to skin. In other words, I was completely drenched.

"What a wretched night to go out," I thought to myself, "But what a glorious night for murder."

 

“Our victim left one of the clubs on the high street, a gaudy little pit called ‘NEON’.” I almost smiled at his disdain for club culture. “She left around eleven-fifty. She then proceeded to walk across the road at which point street CCTV picked up a man walking her into the shadows of an alley, which we are standing in now. Needless to say, we are presuming that he is our killer." At this point, he glanced up at me for a second before looking back down at his notes again. "At midnight, the event at the club ended so the club closed. The hosts, who were holding a charity event, had only rented it till midnight.” Turlock reported.