I arrived a few minutes late for work to find the squad room a scene of what can only be described as organised chaos. From the looks on everyone’s faces we’d picked up a new case. I headed for my desk and after slipping off my coat I sat down, started to get my bearings and waited in vain for anyone to remark ‘oh you are back then?’ or some such greeting.

I was just returning from three weeks holiday and I was already feeling slightly miffed that none of my colleagues had even noticed that I’d returned to work.

At the front of the office, a sergeant was busy setting up a lectern and a projector at the far end of the office. It was clear that a briefing was going to happen soon. I decided to let things roll by until after the briefing.

I looked around at my desk and it was clear that some slob had been using it in my absence. With a single swipe of my arm, I swept all the used cups, sandwich wrapper and half eaten apple cores that had been discarded onto my desk into the bin. Just doing that made me feel better.

Then, I looked around for my partner, Caitlin. As usual, she was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if she’d been assigned a new partner in my absence.

It was then that I noticed that a senior officer had entered the room and stood by the lectern. He looked around at the general scene of chaos and after shaking his head slightly, he spoke loudly,

“Can I have some quiet please?”

Gradually, the noise in the crowded room died down and everyone shuffled towards the lectern.

“Good morning, people. As some of you may already know, we've been given the task of solving the spate of murders that some sections of the press have dubbed the 'headless totty' case.”

There was some murmur around the room including a few groans. The series of unexplained murders had been in the news for several months.

“You probably all know the basics of the case so I'd like to get straight down to the details of the latest murder. First up is Dr Smith from the Middlesex Path Lab.

The Officer sat down and in his place came a small balding man.

“Good morning to you all. I have the results of the post mortem of the latest victim.”

He pressed the button and the image that was projected onto the screen changed to one of a headless and handless young woman.

“As you are aware, this is the fifth body we have recovered to show the same type of injuries in the past year. The body is of a young woman probably around 23 to 25 years old. She has never given birth and there are no signs of recent sexual activity. This fits in with the other victims.”

He showed another picture.

“As we observed in all the other cases, the killer has gone to great lengths to stop us from finding out the identity of the victim. As you can see from the photographs, just about the only identifying feature she had is a tattoo on her left arm. The killer has shown great patience in he has removed all of the skin and complete epidermis in an attempt to stop us from using it to identify her. From our tests of the area, I can tell that the tattoo used red and blue ink. That is not uncommon. We do not know what the design was. Sadly, no amount of testing will reveal that mystery.”

He moved to another picture.

“The same goes for the tattoo around her left ankle. I am told that in some areas a tattoo on the left ankle indicates that the wearer is or was a lesbian. However, this is not conclusive proof and should not be taken as a statement of fact.”

Finally, he showed an X-ray picture of her right arm. It was easy to see that her arm had been badly broken in the past. So bad in fact that the bones needed to be held together by a metal plate.

“Thankfully the killer didn’t have X-Ray eyes, so ladies and gentlemen, thanks to this little plate in her arm has told me who she is. From the serial number, we have ascertained that her name is 'Peggy-Sue Carron'. From information we have received from the USA, is seems that this body is none other than Miss Peggy-Sue Carron. She was a student at The LSE but she came from Ohio in the USA. According to the US Embassy, she lived in Muswell Hill. Her parents will be arriving here the day after tomorrow to identify their daughters’ body. For the first time, the killer may have gotten a bit sloppy. It might be the break we have been waiting for.”

He paused for a second while he changed the image being projected.

“As to cause of death. It is just like the others. Sadly, I have to confirm that just like the others, she was decapitated while she was still breathing. From my analysis, it was probably done with a chainsaw, and as far as I can tell just like the other bodies I have examined. Her hands were removed when the body was in 'rigour' several hours later. I estimate her time of death to be early on Sunday morning but due to the varying weather conditions of the past few days there is a 6 to 12 hour margin of error in that time.”

With that, he sat down. The Chief Inspector stood up again.

“I want this butcher found and stopped before he kills another young woman. If he shows the same pattern as before and he has been almost as regular as clockwork, we have just less than 30 days to find him before he strikes again. DI Barnes will lead her team and look into the last hours and days of this unfortunate young woman. She will ask about the sexual bent of Miss Carron. The rest of you go over the other cases in detail in light of this new information. This pervert is trying to be careful but sooner of later he is going to make mistakes. I want that to be sooner and it is your job to find them.”

He paused.

“Lastly, I cannot stress strongly enough that the press MUST not know that we have identified this victim. I will be meeting with her parents when they arrive in the hope that they will keep the news of their daughter's death from the press for a while. The American Ambassador will be meeting the Mayor and the Home Secretary later today. We hope that the Yanks will go along with our desire to keep things quiet for the time being. Once the American media get their hands on this story it will be come a media frenzy and we will find it hard to do any proper detective work. Finally, you will all be pleased to know that now that this case has an international flavour, our 'friends' in MI5, MI6”

He paused for inevitable groans before continuing,

“And our friends in FBI will be watching what we do very closely. The PM is visiting Washington at the end of next month. It would be nice for the PM to be able to tell the President that the case is solved and that we did it without their assistance if you get my message. I am already getting pressure from above, namely God himself and his disciples. You all know whom I am talking about. We have an advantage albeit slight but one nevertheless. We may not have it for long so don't just sit there, get off your bums and get sleuthing.”

As he stepped back from the lectern, there was an eerie silence in the room.

I felt slightly apprehensive because this was going to be my first really big case. I’d only been in the squad for six months. I'd been so proud about getting this transfer but now I was not so sure. I just wasn’t sure that this is what I wanted to do any longer.

My daydreaming was cut short by a tap on my shoulder.

I looked up to see the beaming face of my partner, the wonderful and enigmatic Caitlin O’Hara.

“What’s been going on?”

I groaned, she’d missed everything as usual.

Two days went by and everyone felt that what little advantage they once had gone and morale was sinking fast that I realised that one key fact about the case had been starring all of us so called detectives smack in the face all along.

“It is the Northern Line. The fucking Northern Line,” I cried out.

A couple of my colleagues stopped what they were doing and looked at me bewildered. They were probably thinking that I’d gone off my rocker.

“All the bodies have been found less than half a mile from a Northern Line tube station.”

One of them laughed.

“Are you saying that the killer decapitated these woman, put the heads in a bag and went home to his tea by Tube?”

I glared back at him.

“No. No I'm not. I'm saying that it is possible that the killer chose his victims while travelling on the Northern Line. Think about it. Rush hour. On the northern Line everyone is crammed in like sardines. All too easy for someone to stalk these lovely women day after day without being noticed.”

“Ok boy genius, where did the victims get on and get off the 'stalker line'?”

He smiled back at me fully expecting me to back down.

“As we all know, more than a hundred young women 'go missing' in London every week. If we narrow down our search to those who lived close to the Northern Line I'll bet that we find who they are or rather who they were.”

“How much would you like to wager?” argued the other DC.

I thought for a second or two before answering.

I put a smile on my face and said,
“How about if I lose, I'll dress up as a maid and serve you all coffee all day.”

The others all laughed.

“If I win than you will pay for me and my partner to see any show of our choosing in Town.”

One of the others chimed in,

“Speaking of your partner, where is the delectable DS O’Hara?”

One of the others answered.

“She's giving evidence at the Bailey in the Dalston, ‘Drive By Robbery’ Trial.”

The other men looked at each other.

“And pay for us to have a nice meal as well,” I added.
That caused a few chuckles amongst my colleagues.

“Ok, we'll stretch to a meal at the Dog and Partridge.”

With the wager all agreed, I headed off to the records department to look into the missing persons cases.

The next four hours proved to be very productive. I didn’t want to raise any false hopes so I kept my findings to myself for the time being.

It was late afternoon when my partner came into the office having given her evidence at the Old Bailey. I told her about the bet. That cheered her up no end. I expect that it was the prospect of seeing me in a Maids outfit in the office. I didn’t let on but it was something I would have done without the need to be asked twice.

I then turned to the results of my searches. She listened attentively and smiled sweetly in all the right places but it was obvious that she didn’t believe me. In the end we agreed to disagree and we left for home. As we walked to the tube station, I could tell that I’d made an impression. Her normal chatty self was strangely silent.

I spent most of the following day putting the data I’d collated from the missing persons records into “HOLMES” and then trying to formulate the right queries that would prove my theory. After running every and every permutation I could think of, I thought that I now had enough answers let more people know my findings. I knocked and went into the Chief Inspectors office with a large bundle of printouts in my arms.

“Sir, I think I have identified four of the victims and the connection between them.”

The Inspector looked at me seriously.

“You had better not be wasting my time. I have a meeting with the Commissioner in half an hour.”

“No Sir. I'm not wasting anyone's time.”

For the next twenty minutes, I went through each case and showed the boss the evidence that I had gathered. At the end of it, and for the first time in more than a week, my boss smiled.

“Well done Constable. Get your coat on, we are going to show this to the commissioner right now.”

I must have gone as white as a sheet in the face. To me, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police was on a level with god himself. Normally the likes of me don’t get to meet with the top brass unless we are in real deep shit.

The meeting went well. I didn’t say a word. My only participation was to nod my head as the appropriate moment.

On the way down in the lift, my boss looked pleased, very pleased.

“Well done constable. Good old police work has given us our first real solid lead in this case.”

That compliment was enough reward for me.

As we walked into the office, my thought turned to the nice meal that my colleagues were going to buy if before the end of the week.

The chief called a ‘All Hands’ meeting and after a brief preamble, he let me tell everyone my findings.

The relief in the team, knowing who the victims were was palpable. Everyone's spirits were lifted. It didn't take long before a very detailed picture of the women was put together. It was obvious what they all had in common. They all had red hair. Not the natural ginger red but the died really vibrant lipstick red or even ‘day-glow’ hair.

A pattern also emerged about their lives and especially their travel habits. They all travelled through Archway Station on the Northern Line at least twice a day.

Then everything went dead. It was as if they'd hit a brick wall. No more leads nothing, nada.

This naturally frustrated the hell out of me. This frustration led to start thinking of ways around this. As I sat the in deep contemplation an idea gradually started to form in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. In the end, I had to tell my partner.

“Sarge? I have an idea that may help us capture our killer. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

She looked at me and sighed.

We headed outside the office and down to the Embankment opposite the ‘London Eye’.

I was just about to launch into my idea when Caitlin said,
“If your bright idea is for a Woman Police Officer to dress up in a wig and play the part then, the brass has already rejected it outright. They say it is far too dangerous and I’m inclined to believe them.”

I smiled at her and replied,
“I agree with you in that it is not for a woman to be the bait. I'll do it.”

Caitlin almost fell onto the floor laughing.

When she’d recovered enough of her composure to speak, she said,
“You! Don't kid me. You might look all baby faced but this really takes the biscuit. I might just as well go and tell the boss to send you back to being a beat officer.”

“No Caitlin. Please let me show you how serious I am. If a bait operation is going to work, then it has to be 100%. No 1000%. Something like this needs real identities, backstories and absolutely no contact with the team here.”

At that moment, Caitlin realised that I was deadly serious. Now she felt worried.

“How will you prove it to me? Be warned, it has to be good. I really don’t want to be a laughing stock amongst my peers.”

I smiled.

“The Ship’s Capstan is your local, isn't it?”

“Yes. So?”

“If I recall from my time as a beat officer in the area, they have Karaoke on Thursday's. Today is Thursday. Get your glad rags on and I'll see you there at 8pm. If you breathe a word of this to anyone else, then the deal is off.”

Somewhat wearily, she agreed.

[End of Chapter 1]