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Whodunnit?
Monday came and went. Chris hadn't had the nerve to tell Shaz anything. He noticed that she was distracted and irritable with him and he wondered if Leanne had told her after all. She had barely raised a smile at Ray's hair which was shorter than normal now- Leanne had cut it Sunday night, after Chris had left. When Chris asked Shaz about it she just said she had come in just as they were finishing and she had already laughed herself silly.
Chris knew he should talk to Shaz, more so now. Hell, forget Shaz, he should tell the Guv. But he knew he wouldn't. He knew even telling DI Drake would mean the end. It was weird how he had been all set to confess and then had seen Leanne and suddenly he wanted to guard every secret he had. He wondered if there was a way of getting Shaz out of Leanne's flat, away from her.
XXX
It was a body. It was a young woman, a slit across her throat. She had been found by the river half an hour before Gene had received the call about it, a mile away from the Horse and Trap. She had been killed in the early hours of that morning. She had been a stripper in Madam Capstone's strip club.
Shaz knelt down to examine the body, keen to earn her stripes as a DC as Chris searched the surroundings for evidence. Gene turned away, a clench in his stomach. He thought the killings had stopped. It had been weeks since the last killing and now there had been another.
He wished Alex was with him. He couldn't make any sense of it and he knew he would be able to. She'd take one look at the crime scene and say, "oh it means this and that means our killer is this kind of person, oh look there he his, get him!"
But she wasn't there. Nor was Ray, having called in sick that morning, complaining of flu. Gene strongly suspected flu was code for hangover.
Chris hurried over. "Just been talking to forensics, Guv. They haven't really started yet but they want to do a sweep of the area now."
Gene nodded and called Shaz over. "Well, DC Granger?"
"Bruises on her hands and arms show there was a struggle. There are fibres or hair or something under her fingernails."
Gene raised his eyebrows. "Forensic evidence left behind? Well, that's new."
XXX
Two days after the body had been found, Alex heard a banging at the door and a voice crying, "Police! Open up!"
Alex hauled herself out of bed. Two things made her worry, the fact that it was one in the morning and the note of anguish in Gene's voice. What the hell had happened and why was he coming to her?
She opened the door and Gene flew in, charging across her living room as though he had no control over his feet.
"Gene, what is it?" Alex demanded, "What's wrong?"
Gene span around and the look on his face terrified her. His mouth was arranged in a straight line and his eyebrows were slanting down to his nose. But it was his eyes that frightened her, a wild look that reflected anger, disbelief, hatred and sorrow all at once.
"I've just come back from the interview rooms."
"At this time of night?" said Alex, trying not to rush him, "Who were you interviewing?"
"Ray."
"Ray who?"
Gene said nothing. Alex gaped at him as the penny dropped.
"Ray? Our Ray? Ray Carling? Why?"
"He did it," said Gene so quietly that Alex barely heard him, "Ray killed the seven prostitutes some weeks ago. He killed the eighth one earlier this week."