It was the same grizzly scene he’d seen eight times before. A pale corpse, its face stricken with fear and its neck punctured with a green ballpoint pen. Blood sprayed about the room and pooled around the body. And a note, written in green ink on yellow paper, which read:
You won’t catch me. If you do, you’ll come to regret it.
Never any prints. Never any clues. Never a single thing to go on.
Investigations on the pen and paper had drawn a blank. Both were popular brands which had been sold in supermarkets and stationary stores up and down the country for years. Tracing potential suspects was impossible; too many people bought the damn things to isolate any decent leads.
There were never any witnesses. Neighbours never heard signs of break-in or struggle or even the murders themselves. There was never any nearby CCTV to hint as to who had been in the area before and after the crime took place.
The victims weren’t linked. They didn’t know each other or share mutual friends or acquaintances. There was no evidence of them having enemies. They weren’t even alike in appearance or nature. All of them were from completely different walks of life, killed for the sake of killing, it seemed.
And it all left the detective completely and utterly stumped. Victim number nine gave him no more clues as to the murderer than victim number one.
He nurses a glass of brandy while staring at the four walls of his living room.
CONTINUE READING ON MEDIUM >
‘I went over this on the phone.’
‘I just want to confirm the details.’
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Olive skin. Dark brown hair. She’s… I don’t know, average build, I suppose. Just over four foot tall. She’s tall for her age.’
‘What was she wearing the last time you saw her?’ Continue reading “Bluebells | Short Story”
Goodreads told me I would love this book. The internet at large told me I would love this book. The guy in the bookshop told me I would love this book. And luckily, I did love this book, ‘cos if I hadn’t I’d have been sorely disappointed.
Rivers of London is a mishmash of urban fantasy and classic crime. Protagonist Peter Grant, a probationary constable, finds himself taking a witness statement from a ghost after a very grizzly murder. Soon after, he’s drafted into a specialist department which tackles crime that is linked with the spooky and the supernatural. Someone’s face has exploded, random people are experiencing sudden bursts of violent rage, and there’s a turf war going on between Mother and Father Thames. Continue reading “Rivers of London, Ben Aaronovitch | Book Review”
The goods were delivered to us in shoeboxes.
It was the perfect cover; the filth couldn’t give a damn about shoes. They noted the boxes piled high on the back of the boats, observed the display of stilettos in our shop window, and rolled their eyes at the vanity of women. Continue reading “The Perfect Cover | Microfiction”
The detective gazed into the glazed eyes of the corpse on the floor and wondered what its last thoughts could have been as its blood spurted from its neck and flooded the floor. Probably, “Oh fuck,” or something to that effect, she thought.
She had three months left on the force, and she’d been craving a juicy case to get stuck into before she stepped into the quiet lane of retirement. This looked like it could be the one. Continue reading “Big-Eared B*stard”