Additional clerical staff were being drafted in to take the calls. The majority would be spurious but they all had to be checked, all the cranks, the self-proclaimed guilty and the weirdo psychics who could hunt down villains in their dreams. Geraldine applauded Kathryn Gordon's thoroughness but wished she hadn't been given the job of monitoring messages, while they were waiting for more clerical staff to arrive.
The weekly Woolsmarsh Chronicle had come out that morning. Angela Waters' murder dominated the front page, which meant there would be a spate of calls. There was a small article in the nationals, briefly stating that a woman's body had been found. The local paper was more sensational. 'STRANGLER STALKS THE STREETS' the headline screamed on the front page, with several striking subheadings, including: 'CHILD FINDS BODY'. Geraldine scanned the article, frowning.
The police have launched a massive manhunt for the killer of blonde 22-year-old Angela Waters whose body was discovered in Lyceum Park by 4-year-old Sophie ( pictured below ). Emergency services were immediately alerted following a 999 call made by the children's mother. The park is still cordoned off this morning with officers in attendance. A post-mortem examination is expected to confirm that the victim was attacked in the park in broad daylight. Detective Chief Inspector Catherine Gordon, who is leading the investigation, said: 'This was a vicious assault and my team are working tirelessly to discover the identity of the killer as quickly as possible. We are currently following several leads.'
Geraldine turned from the pile of newspaper reports and picked up a tape. She knew that the smallest of details might prove crucial and was determined to be vigilant, but her heart sank as she listened to a woman's pathetic attempt to implicate her neighbour. The next caller accused his estranged wife.
My wife Jeanie hates blondes. I like blondes, see? The point is, Jeanie hates my girlfriend because she's a natural blonde. And that girl who was murdered, she was blonde too. You thinking what I'm thinking? Only I wouldn't put anything past Jeanie.
There were several messages from worried parents, and a call from a landlady whose tenant had disappeared.
I'm worried about my lodger. He's such a nice quiet man, on account of his speech impediment. He's not been back since Wednesday, so I thought the Woolsmarsh Strangler might've got him. Do you think I should let the room to someone else?
Then came a Mr Jack Ripper.
You'll never catch me. I'm Jack the Ripper. You didn't catch me last time and you won't catch me this time. Jack the Ripper. Remember the name.
Geraldine spent most of the morning listening to messages. For a break, she tried to read through statements from people who knew John Drew, but she couldn't settle. With an impatient sigh, she gathered up all her paperwork and deposited it in her drawer, which she closed with a bang. Turning to a new page in her notebook, she tried to think logically. Facts, she told herself, frustrated at having spent most of the morning listening to phone calls. Facts. She wrote the word in capitals at the top of the page, stared at it for a second then tore the page out, screwed it up and chucked it at the bin. Facts weren't enough. What was the point of listing what she already knew? It was all there in her head. She'd seen investigations held up by a colleague getting a fixed idea, which turned out to be a blind alley. The important thing was to keep an open mind and be prepared to change her internal account of events in an instant. But she had to have that inner vision directing her search.
The facts needed to solve a case might be staring them all in the face, but that was useless if no one had the wit to put them together so they pointed in the right direction. Geraldine was as dedicated to gathering information as anyone else, but she was
The weekly Woolsmarsh Chronicle had come out that morning. Angela Waters' murder dominated the front page, which meant there would be a spate of calls. There was a small article in the nationals, briefly stating that a woman's body had been found. The local paper was more sensational. 'STRANGLER STALKS THE STREETS' the headline screamed on the front page, with several striking subheadings, including: 'CHILD FINDS BODY'. Geraldine scanned the article, frowning.
The police have launched a massive manhunt for the killer of blonde 22-year-old Angela Waters whose body was discovered in Lyceum Park by 4-year-old Sophie ( pictured below ). Emergency services were immediately alerted following a 999 call made by the children's mother. The park is still cordoned off this morning with officers in attendance. A post-mortem examination is expected to confirm that the victim was attacked in the park in broad daylight. Detective Chief Inspector Catherine Gordon, who is leading the investigation, said: 'This was a vicious assault and my team are working tirelessly to discover the identity of the killer as quickly as possible. We are currently following several leads.'
Geraldine turned from the pile of newspaper reports and picked up a tape. She knew that the smallest of details might prove crucial and was determined to be vigilant, but her heart sank as she listened to a woman's pathetic attempt to implicate her neighbour. The next caller accused his estranged wife.
My wife Jeanie hates blondes. I like blondes, see? The point is, Jeanie hates my girlfriend because she's a natural blonde. And that girl who was murdered, she was blonde too. You thinking what I'm thinking? Only I wouldn't put anything past Jeanie.
There were several messages from worried parents, and a call from a landlady whose tenant had disappeared.
I'm worried about my lodger. He's such a nice quiet man, on account of his speech impediment. He's not been back since Wednesday, so I thought the Woolsmarsh Strangler might've got him. Do you think I should let the room to someone else?
Then came a Mr Jack Ripper.
You'll never catch me. I'm Jack the Ripper. You didn't catch me last time and you won't catch me this time. Jack the Ripper. Remember the name.
Geraldine spent most of the morning listening to messages. For a break, she tried to read through statements from people who knew John Drew, but she couldn't settle. With an impatient sigh, she gathered up all her paperwork and deposited it in her drawer, which she closed with a bang. Turning to a new page in her notebook, she tried to think logically. Facts, she told herself, frustrated at having spent most of the morning listening to phone calls. Facts. She wrote the word in capitals at the top of the page, stared at it for a second then tore the page out, screwed it up and chucked it at the bin. Facts weren't enough. What was the point of listing what she already knew? It was all there in her head. She'd seen investigations held up by a colleague getting a fixed idea, which turned out to be a blind alley. The important thing was to keep an open mind and be prepared to change her internal account of events in an instant. But she had to have that inner vision directing her search.
The facts needed to solve a case might be staring them all in the face, but that was useless if no one had the wit to put them together so they pointed in the right direction. Geraldine was as dedicated to gathering information as anyone else, but she was
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