February 3rd 1973
Raining again. Always bleeding raining in this hole of a town. Had to wear galoshes out to the crime scene, knew there’d be mud. I suppose it was a pretty spot. In its way. Old crumbling ruin, covered in moss and ivy. Think it was a bridge. Not sure.
DCI was there already, puffing on a fag. He started bleating as soon as I splashed through the shallow stream to get to him. Homicide. Maybe a kidnapping. Found some stuff belonging to the vic apparently. Pale blue handbag. One white high heel. Hose. A dress. Torn and bloodstained. Smashed camera. Pretty impressive piece of hardware too. A Zenit E.
Trace amounts of blood at the scene and plenty of footprints. Heels and boots. Must be the vic and the bastard who did whatever he did to her.
The DCI gave me…
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