London Murders

Chapter 1

         Up above, beyond the gaze of a busy town in the midst of summer, there hung a gloomy sky carrying the news of a recent murder. That in itself would not be anything spectacular in itself, yet the night was young, and all that could easily change. Hustling up and down the cobblestone streets, merchants and street beggars began to make their ways home. Some would find a nice warm supper awaiting them at home, while the majority of the others would simply find a more comfortable street corner than last night's, and make that their night's stay. The clear night sky could not be brighter, yet the entire town was cast in a gloomy fog. One which made you feel all so alone, even when you made your way up Center Lane, the busiest street in town.
         Far off in the distance, a man approached with an oil lamp held in front of him, no doubt to guide his path through the thick fog. As he approached, his features became more distinct and his purpose all too well known. His blue uniform and well kept demeanor separated him from London's every day citizens. An officer of the law, more specifically a high ranked official. Clean shaven face, well kept uniform, in fact one of the cleanest he's ever seen. The man approached, bringing his lamp inches higher to make sure he had the right man. Seeming satisfied, he once more lowered his light and cleared his throat. After a harsh and forced scraping escaped his throat, the man fixed his belt and looked towards the stranger he'd just approached.
         "Sire, I  have been informed you were arriving tonight and was sent to escort you to the scene. I'm Chief Detective Williams of the City Police. I'm not big on welcomes, but this city here, London, she be a fine one on nights not like tonight."
         Looking around, the stranger placed his view back on the chief, "Yeah, so they say. But on a night like tonight, even the fog carries a blanket of despair and hopelessness with it. We have much the same nights as these in New York. Now, take me to the scene before my suit gets soaked in mist."
         Flipping open his pocket watch, the stranger saw that it was nearly 11pm. On a night like this, the sooner indoors meant the longer you would generally live. A long life has always been his goal, so this better be fast as tomorrow couldn't come any sooner. As the chief took off down the road, all the citizens, no matter their class had disappeared off the streets. It was as if even the common folk could smell death. The further away, the better.
         Distant thunder broke the silence as the two men made their way down Center Lane towards Midcrest Square. The chief's footsteps carried a certain heavy dragging with them, one which a man tired of not only his job, but also his life would pull behind him on nights like these. The dense fog seemed to have lifted, but only slightly. The oil lamps on the roadsides still barely lit their path along the narrow street. In the distance, faint circles of light formed, and as they made their way closer these circles turned to other lamps held be fellow officers. Judging by the amount of officers present, this scene was still fresh. No more than 2 hours since the time of death at most.
         "Doctor, thank the Lord you've come. We have secured the area, no civilians present and as soon as you're done, we'll pack up and go home. This night is ill, I dare not risk my men." The most decorated officer amongst the men stepped forward as he finished. Chief Lieutenant Olrich, the first foreigner to make this honor. His reputation traveled far across the Atlantic to the shores of New York. His appearance could pass him for a wild man of Norway during the viking conquests if he wasn't dressed in his flashy police uniform.
         Dropping his black hand bag, the doctor began removing items for his examination of the scene even before the Lieutenant Olrich was done speaking. Gazing at the tall man before him, the Doctor began moving forward as he took in the surroundings of the scene.
         "I'd have to say sir, this must have happened quite quick. As I've been informed, this is a busy section of town, no?" As he glanced over, most officers simply nodded their heads and listened. They paid close attention to every detail the Doctor spoke as he continued. "The victim must have been moving East along the square, but we cannot be sure. the Drag marks only originate from this point, moving north, but her last pair of clear tracks in the dirt point East." Moving forward towards the body, the night fog finally began to give way for more sight. "The killer was quick, quick enough to do this without the detection of anyone passing by. He must have delivered the fatal blow here, then pulled the victim into the park to finish the rest." Walking towards the body, the pools of blood grew bigger, which meant he was wrong. "No, the victim was still alive...but the footsteps indicate no struggle. Very odd." Closing in on the body, the Doctor had to flinch at its sight. The work of the killer, in a strange sense reminded him of an old case from New York, the Sculpting Killer of 87th Street.