Free Legacy of the Ripper by kindels

of combing or styling, in the style of Carl Wright, he resembled an archetypal mad professor though his colleagues and members of the police force knew him to be professional, exact and never prone to making snap judgements, thus avoiding the pitfalls of having to change his mind at a later date. Though it could be frustrating sometimes for a detective who was pressing for quick answers, Murdoch never guessed and always ascertained the facts before revealing even the hint of a suspicion about any case he was called to assist with.
    Now, as he knelt by the body of the deceased girl he worked slowly and methodically, making sure that nothing pertinent to the actual death scene escaped his gaze or his examination.
    "She didn't live here, then?" he asked, looking up at Holland.
    "No, we don't know who she is yet, but the people who live in the house were shocked as hell to find us all on their doorstep a little while ago. They've no idea who she is either so it's likely she wasn't from around here. Why do you ask, Chas? Is it important that she didn't live here?"
    "Not really. I just wondered whether she might have been killed on the way in or out of the house, that's all. If she had been we'd have needed to carry out a thorough forensic examination of the property."
    "We may still have to do that," Holland replied. "We only have Mr and Mrs Harland's word for the fact that they didn't know her."
    "You think they may be lying?"
    "No, but we might have to make sure."
    "Where are the householders, by the way?"
    "We've already evacuated them to the church hall, along with the people who live either side of the house. We don't want the locals treading all over potential forensic evidence, now do we?"
    "I'm surprised they agreed to leave their homes at this time of the morning," said Murdoch.
    "I don't think any of them really fancied the idea of staring out at a corpse and a whole herd of police and forensic officers while they ate their breakfasts or tried to get ready for work. They soon went quietly when we told them what had happened."
    Murdoch changed the direction of the conversation.
    "Have your men searched for anything that might identify her?"
    "They haven't touched the body, if that's what you mean. They've looked around the street and there's no sign of a purse or anything that might have been hers. For now, she's a victim without a name."
    "Poor kid," said Murdoch. "She wasn't very old, that's for sure. What a way to end up."
    He said no more, and simply returned to his examination of the body. After five minutes, he stood and faced Holland, standing waiting patiently a few yards away, speaking quietly to Wright while the doctor carried out his initial examination.
    "Well?" asked the detective inspector.
    "Cause of death is almost certainly the deep incisive wound to the neck," Murdoch stated, matter-of-factly. "The other wounds were all inflicted post-mortem as far as I can tell. I'll be able to fully confirm that at autopsy. At least she was dead before the killer began his butchery."
    "Any idea of the time she was killed, doc?" asked Wright.
    "Judging by the state of rigor, and the lividity of the skin tissue, I'd say she was killed soon after midnight, maybe between then and two a.m."
    "And no-one saw her until the boat-builder came along?"
    "It's a quiet street in a quiet area, sergeant," Holland chimed in. "I'd imagine all the residents were tucked up in their beds by the time our killer brought the girl along here to carry out the murder."
    "But surely she would have screamed, or struggled, made some sound or done something to alert the folks in the houses," an exasperated Wright went on.
    "Not necessarily." This was Murdoch once again joining the conversation. "If the killer got her to turn around so her back was facing him, he could have grabbed her around the face, effectively gagging her, and cut her throat so fast she'd have had no chance to scream. A wound as deep as he inflicted on her would have made damn