CHAPTER THREE
According to the police report, the owner of the severed hand was Victoria Evans. She had one count of drink driving on her record, and little else was known about her. The address with the arrest record was several years old, but he had tried it anyway, finding no one home. This he had followed with asking around at every bar within two miles of her address. No one had seen her. And he needed to devise a more efficient way of covering the ground, Sherlock mentally added.
He dropped into a chair and picked up the cup of tea from the table next to it, trying to think of a new plan of attack.
The killer had a very unique way of disposing of the body. Yes. Why hadn't that occurred to him earlier? With such a unique skill set, and the equipment to make realistic body pieces. The number of suspects should be drastically diminished.
This late, any museums would be closed however, he realized to his own disappointment. No point trying to follow that lead until morning.
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"Call for you," Sergeant Donovan said as soon as Lestrade walked into the building.
He had literally been in the building less than thirty seconds. It was going to be one of those days, he thoughts disheartedly as he took the phone.
"Hello?"
"Sherlock Holmes," the voice on the other end said. "I suspect your killer was affiliated with Madame Tussauds. Meet me there I twenty minutes."
The caller hung up before he could reply. Yeah, definitely one of those days.
"I'm going out," he told no one in particular. "I'll call if I need backup."
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Sherlock was waiting outside the wax museum when Lestrade arrived.
"I've already talked to the manager, but he wants the police here before he'll let me into the back," he explained. "Something about me trying to disrupt business." he shrugged dismissively.
"Well, I'm here, so might as well have a look."
The manager allowed them in the the stipulation that they 'please not disturb anything,' something Lestrade was wondering about the possibility of as he watched the continuous movement of the man with him. He didn't seem to be able to stand still, flitting back and forth from figure to figure, pulling out a magnifying glass several times to analyze some minute detail.
After poring over every detail and wax figure, he tucked away the magnifier and stood straight. "Now the employees."
One by one, he met each employee, usually asked a couple questions, then let them return to their jobs. After finishing the last one, he disappointedly announced the killer wasn't among them.
"He's not here. Do you have any other employees? Part time workers or anyone who called in sick?"
"Yes. Sara Morris. She works every other day, alternating with Katherine, who you already interviewed. She didn't get along well with Victoria, but I can't see her killing her."
"I never said Victoria was who was killed."
"I remember you, yesterday showing a picture at the bar. I didn't say anything because I had no idea where she was staying. I haven't seen her in several months, but she used to work here in a janitorial role."
"That would have been useful yesterday," Sherlock grumbled. "I'll need an address for Miss Morris."