《From Hell》


 Interview Room 3

    "Interview commenced at 12:09 am, Monday, seventh of August 2023, first interviewing officer present is DCI Thomas Becket, and interviewee...."


    Lina''s gaze bore into the suspect across the interview table. The acrid stench of chain-smoked cigarettes hung in the air, the ashtray overflowing with crushed butts. The man steadfastly avoided her eyes as he muttered his name.


    "Benji Haines." The words escaped his lips in a sharp, clipped tone, accompanied by a plume of smoke. He leaned back as DCI Becket''s hand came to rest on Lina''s shoulder.


    "Second officer present, DI Lina Haines." She stated her name and rank for the recording, then settled back in her chair, arms crossed, waiting for Thomas to begin the interview.


    Strictly speaking, Lina shouldn''t have been permitted to sit in on the interview due to her marital status. However, as one of the arresting officers ¨C and after a solemn promise to the superintendent that she would remain silent ¨C Lina found herself in interview room 3, with a front-row seat to her husband''s interrogation.


    The night had begun routinely enough. A call about a pair of women''s legs protruding from an alley in Whitechapel had brought them to the scene shortly before 11 pm. They''d expected to find a woman severely intoxicated or high on meth. Instead, their torch beams had revealed a woman stabbed multiple times, with a man crouched beside her, pressing a bundled-up hoodie over the countless wounds. A man Lina had instantly recognised as her husband, Benji.


    "...So, can you explain what happened?" Thomas began, spreading out the thin file on the table. "How you came to be in the alley?"


    Benji, now dressed in the standard-issue grey tracksuit, his own clothes collected for evidence, fidgeted in his seat. Specks of dried blood dotted his hands, caked under his fingernails, with a smear on his cheek. His eyes remained fixed on the table as he spoke.


    "I was coming back from my brother''s, it was his wife''s birthday, when I saw her lying half out the alley." Benji paused to take a sharp drag on his cigarette, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. "I checked to see if she was alright...and, well..." He waved a hand dismissively, as if the rest was self-evident.


    Thomas scribbled a note on the edge of a page, sliding it across for Lina to read. A simple question: was the sister-in-law''s birthday account accurate? Lina knew Florence''s birthday was indeed today, but a dinner had been arranged for Sunday due to her husband''s work commitments. Unable to speak, Lina could only nod in confirmation.


    Thomas ticked the question. "What time did you leave?"


    Benji rubbed under his lip with his thumb, a nervous tic Lina knew all too well. "Ten, half ten, maybe?" He lit another cigarette, his cold, blue-green eyes narrowing. "Look, I had nothing to do with her being stabbed. I only tried to help."


    Finally, Benji looked across the table at Lina, his gaze almost imploring her to believe him. Since arriving on the scene, Lina had remained detached, wrestling with the damning evidence before her. Benji could be an arsehole, but he wasn''t violent. Lina believed him when he said he was only trying to help, but she knew a court would consider her a biased witness. Her hands were firmly tied.


    When Lina shook her head back at Benji, unable to offer assistance, the hurt in his eyes was palpable. His mouth fell slightly agape in disbelief, before twisting into a sharp scoff. He threw himself back in the chair, gnawing at his lip in agitation.


    Thomas laid a hand on the desk, tapping his little finger. "So why didn''t you call an ambulance or the police?"


    It was a fair question, but also not. Many people delayed calling for assistance due to shock. Still, Lina knew how long the walk from Florence''s house to the alley would have taken. The call from the concerned citizen hadn''t come in until nearly eleven, leaving at least a twenty-minute window ¨C or longer if Benji''s timeline was correct.


    Benji had an explanation ready. "My phone was dead," he said, less nervous now and teetering towards annoyed, his brow creasing beneath the wispy curls that hung over his forehead. As he claimed, the iPhone taken from Benji was indeed dead as a dodo.


    Thomas stopped tapping his finger. "Then what did you hope to do?"


    Despising her enforced idleness, Lina took the preliminary report and began to peruse it, searching for anything that could help extricate Benji from his predicament. Being fitted up for murder, a brutal one at that, would bring Lina''s world crashing down. Her career wasn''t even a consideration; she simply couldn''t bear the thought of her husband of seven years facing a murder charge due to a mistake.


    There was no bias when Lina told herself that Benji didn''t do it. Not even the suspected murder weapon being found under his knee when he stood gave her pause. If it were Benji, there was no plausible reason he would have stayed and tried to offer aid to the woman. That detail made no sense, and it wouldn''t in court either. Even a remorseful killer fled the scene.


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    "...Interview suspended at 12:23hrs, Sergeant Parker entered the room."


    Thomas snapped the pause button on the tape recording, removing the cassette and stashing it in his blazer pocket. He patted Lina''s shoulder as he stood, moving to the door when Sergeant Parker called him over. Watching to see if Thomas and Parker would leave, Lina closed the file as the door clicked shut.


    Turning to Benji, she found him already halfway across the table. "What happened?" Lina beat him to the punch, her hands spread wide in confusion and frustration. "Why didn''t you knock on a door or shout for help?!"


    "I wasn''t thinking straight!" Benji shouted, slamming a hand on the table. The open room echoed with the impact. Lina quickly captured his hands, lowering them to the table and listening intently for any sign that someone might come in.


    Benji seemed to settle as he realised he could face further charges if it appeared he was becoming aggressive with Lina, even though she knew he was harmless. "Sorry, I... Please tell me you don''t think I did this?" He pleaded, lowering his head to try and catch Lina''s eye.


    "No!" Lina''s response was immediate and vehement. "Of course, I don''t!"


    Benji sank down, laying his head on the table and turning over his hands to grasp Lina''s. It was as if all the agitation and stress left him in that moment. Slowly, Lina laid her head atop Benji''s, feeling the quiver of his body through their joined hands. She exhaled, trying to relieve the pressure in her chest.


    Benji turned his head, one eye peering at Lina through his dark curls. He freed a hand to stroke back her hair, only to stop and stare at the blood specks on his fingers before snatching it away from her face.


    "How long can I be held without charge?" he queried faintly, sitting up. Lina followed suit.


    "We can''t," she informed him, stroking behind her ear. "However, we will have to seize your passport, all identification, and bank cards." The new laws were intended to keep the cells empty but infringed on a suspect''s freedom of movement. "We''ll call your bank and request a freeze on your assets."


    Picking at the stains on his fingers, Benji gave a short, breathy laugh. "Beats spending the night in a cell," he tried to smile, but it didn''t even reach the corners of his mouth. "How is it looking? Me being charged, I mean?" He clarified, reaching for the cigarette packet again. Lina allowed it; it was the minimal comfort she could grant him.


    Lina couldn''t say how things were looking until Thomas returned from speaking with Parker. There could be new evidence, an identification of the victim, a witness ¨C many factors needed to be considered before she could confidently say whether Benji should be worried.


    Taking a cigarette for herself, Lina cocked her head. "Until Tommy comes back, I can''t say," she admitted, inhaling deeply despite the burn in her lungs.


    Benji sneered in response. "Bet he''s loving this."


    Lina chose not to argue, knowing it was better to give Benji something other than a possible murder charge to fixate on ¨C even if it was his bitter hatred for her work partner.


    "Di¡ª" Lina began, but twisted in her chair as the interview room door opened again.


    Thomas slid in through the gap. "You''re free to go," he announced, though he appeared displeased with the idea. "The super also told you to go home," he added, aiming a lopsided smile at Lina.


    Benji hesitated. "Does that mean I''m no longer a suspect?"


    Curious about what development had led to Benji''s release, Lina gestured for more information. Thomas wiggled his fingers before explaining, "Not his prints on the murder weapon. And the pathologist reckons she died somewhere between eight and nine."


    Lina felt the tension in her chest snap free. "She was already dead before he found her?"


    Thomas shuffled on his feet, his polished oxfords clipping on the linoleum. "We won''t know for sure until the autopsy, but it looks that way, yeah," he confirmed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He shrugged off Lina''s silent admonishment. "Go on. You know the drill," he said before slipping out again.


    Shoulders slumping, Lina pressed a hand to her forehead, fatigued by the night''s events. She knew there was still work to be done before she could clock off and go home. Seizing Benji''s passport and bank cards could wait until morning; he wasn''t a flight risk.


    Taking her keys from her overcoat pocket, Lina held them against her palm as Benji came to stand beside her. The grey tracksuit and cheap plimsolls made him look like a prisoner on day release, and she told him as much.


    "Glad to know I have a loving and sympathetic wife," Benji grumbled, giving Lina a soft push with his arm. "Can we go? I want a shower."


    Accepting the encouragement, Lina nodded. She, too, wanted to be home and wash away the most stressful night of her career. Collecting the file from the table, she led Benji from the interview room.


    The corridors of Bishop''s Gate station were bustling, as always in the East End of London. Whitechapel, especially, never slept. Approaching the protective screen covering the front desk, Lina shook her head when Wendy tried to engage in conversation. Wendy''s grey eyes flicked between Lina and Benji, her mouth pinched as she tugged it side to side, clearly wanting to ask something.


    "Not tonight," Lina requested, "I need the discharge papers."


    Once Benji had signed the necessary documents, Lina checked her buzzing phone, ignoring a simple text message. "Done?" she asked as Benji dropped the pen. With a quick smile turned on Wendy, they headed across the lobby and out through the glass-panelled automatic doors.


    The night air was brisk as they stood on the steps, and Lina shivered, fatigue setting in.


    "I''ll drive," Benji offered, and for once, Lina didn''t argue. She handed over the keys to her Mercedes c300, eighteen plate, which she''d hastily parked on the pavement in her rush to reach the station after Benji had been placed in the back of a squad car.


    "Don''t rear-end anyone this time," Lina quipped as she slid into the leather passenger seat, dragging the seatbelt across her body.


    "I rear-ended you," Benji muttered as he got in, "Six years ago." He reached under the seat, adjusting it to accommodate his legs.


    Lina''s head rolled towards him, her gaze laconic as Benji turned to her. The engine purred to life, and he laid a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. She managed a tepid smile in return.


    "Let''s go home," Benji said softly, easing the car off the curb. As they drove towards their house near Spitalfields, the traffic still thick even at this late hour, Lina settled back in her seat and let her eyes close.


    Come morning, she prayed there would be enough evidence to clear Benji''s name without probable doubt. Until then, Lina could only hope that nothing would surface to recall Benji for another interview or, worse, see him charged with murder.

 Victim One: Martha Tabram

    The phone ringing did not wake Lina. What did was Benji tapping her forehead, a sleep filled, "Bitch boy is calling," Coming in a grumbled breath when he took the arm from around Lina, a hand lazily stroking her back when the covers fell away. Bedroom chilly due to the open window, Lina begrudgingly left the embrace of Benji''s body, bleary-eyed and squinting against the phone screen when it started ringing again. Tommy wrote across the screen; Lina''s hazy sleep-filled mind woke with a start.


    "Morning," Lina tried to convey that she was not panicking over the nature of the call, and it wasn''t helped when Benji rolled to his side, stroking up her bare thigh. That morning Lina was not in the mood for Benji''s distraction tactics, and she climbed off the bed, throwing on one of Benji''s jumpers.


    Thomas, more than aware of the usual routine, waited to speak until Lina said: "Go ahead,"


    A yawn filtered through the speaker, distorting Thomas''s voice slightly, but Lina heard him.


    "That was shorter than usual. The braggart losing stamina in his old age?"


    "I would consider divorce if that were the case," She quipped back, breath briefly knocked out when Benji catapulted a pillow at her back, "I doubt that''s why you called though?" Glancing back at the bed, Lina flashed Benji a smile when he flicked up a middle finger, sitting up against the headboard.


    "It wasn''t no. I couldn''t care less about your nympho habits." Thomas answered bluntly, "The pathologist has conducted the autopsy, and asked us to go down," A shuffling of paper filled the line for a second, "He was on it pronto when he found out who we nicked," Added with open discontent.


    Lina listened closely, heart palpating when Thomas did not mention bringing Benji back in for an interview; the staggering beat slowed altogether with the poor effort to be ambiguous about the pathologist. Whitechapel only used two, after all.


    "Abbot?" Lina confirmed and again glanced over the bed when Benji sat forward on the bed, arms laying over his knees; a cock of the head sending the mess of pillow-tousled curls flopping across his eyes.


    Thomas blustered another deep sigh, "Who else would it be?" Something was slapped on wood, and Lina got the distinct impression that Thomas was not happy with the fact Benji was, by evidence, deemed innocent enough not to be charged. "Anyway, he wants us there in an hour,"


    Taking the phone away to check the time, Lina winced at the hour, though it better explained why the room was still dark, "I''ll pick you up?" She usually did the driving as the DI. So, it was a shock when Thomas hummed back, "I''ll collect you." Before hanging up.


    Surprised by the abrupt hanging up, Lina stared at the blacked-out screen for a second, then tossed it onto the chest of drawers.


    "What is it?" Benji asked, no longer in bed but pulling on a pair of boxers before combing back his hair, a wary but curious eye on Lina when she came to his side of the bed. He tugged at the jumper Lina stole, his skin prickling against the cold.


    Stretching up both arms, Benji slid his hands beneath the jumper, tracing the curves of Lina''s body while bringing the jumper up; he paused when her breasts came free of the thick fabric, squeezing them and then pulling the jumper over her head.


    Bare-skinned again, Benji didn''t leave Lina in the chill of the bedroom for long; her dressing gown held up, Lina turned around, sliding each arm inside the mint green silk with black lace trim; she pushed Benji''s head away when he came down to nuzzle her neck, "Abbot has done the autopsy," Was the perfect mood killer, and Benji''s arousal that pressed against the base of Lina''s back whimpered away, "I have to go down the morgue," She stepped out of Benji''s arms, heading for the bathroom.


    Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Lina glimpsed the greyed sky through the sashed windows; catching Benji''s worrisome expression in the glass''s reflection, she returned an assuring smile that all would be alright. That Benji didn''t need to worry.


    "Easy for you to say," Benji padded behind Lina when she continued to the bathroom, "You''ve never been treated like a suspect for trying to help." He was bitter, and Lina couldn''t blame him. Keeping from mentioning that it was bound to be assumed with how he was found at the crime scene, Lina focused instead on the narrow corridor from the bedroom, past the rickety staircase, to the Victorian-styled bathroom. Ugly, yet somehow not, black and white tiled floor included.


    Living in a converted workhouse on Flower and Dean Street was often cold. The walls, bare of paint or wallpaper but made of brick, gave the house the impression it never left the days of being a workhouse. However, the rustic, antique charm drew Lina to it. The thoroughfare they lived held quite a checkered history. Once considered the most dangerous street in London and having ties with Whitechapel''s infamous ¨C illusive ¨C serial killer, Jack the Ripper, Lina snapped it up when it went on the market, and Benji was still overseas.


    Twisting the copper taps, Lina cupped the water, splashing it over her face to wake herself up, listening to the groan of the stairs as Benji parted with her for the kitchen, the sweet melody of the kettle boiling bringing a smile to her lips.


    Away from Benji and able to drop the fa?ade that she believed everything was fine, Lina caught the pensive misery in her reflection as she brushed her teeth. Believing Benji was innocent did not mean he would be charged if there was even a morsel of evidence against him. As an ex-captain of the Grenadier guards, Benji held the expertise and capacity to kill.


    Shaking away the thoughts that came with reminding herself of Benji''s profession, Lina rinsed her mouth and hastily freshened up before returning to the bedroom to dress.


    August that year was an extremely wet one. So Lina pulled on a pair of skinny black jeans and a black polo before zipping into calf-high boots. The continuous rain left the summer more like an early winter, and the misery of the British weather showed no promise of letting up.


    Raking her hair back into a high ponytail, Lina pocketed her phone and took the stairs in a half run, meeting Benji at the kitchen archway with a smile when he passed over a freshly made coffee.


    Since retiring, Benji remained home, becoming a house husband and occasionally taking odd jobs with friends. Enjoying the freedom, it seemed the idleness which had become a welcomed companion was now his greatest enemy. He fidgeted when Lina made the final preparations that hinted she would be leaving and soon.


    "I will be late," Mentioning gingerly that she would likely not be home until the early hours, murder investigations often requiring long hours; Lina knew that Benji loathed when she was kept away due to a case, "Go see James?" Suggested a second before two short and sharp taps of a car horn threatened to wake the street.


    Eyes rolling, Benji took the coffee mug from Lina, "Sure," He mumbled, coming down when Lina bobbed on her feet, waiting for a kiss. Lina lingered in it until another tap of the car horn.


    Groaning, Lina inched away from the kiss, mumbling that she had to go when Benji caught her by the waist and drew her in for another. "He can wait." Benji told Lina, putting the coffee mug down on the sideboard as he followed her to the door with pecking kisses.


    "The neighbour''s wont," Lina clucked her tongue, grinning when Benji relented, reaching over her head to open the door, "Love you," Lina whispered, kissing Benji''s cheek as he rested on the door, just able to refrain from sneering when Thomas leaned out the window of his BMW.


    "Put the pensioner down," Goaded dully; Thomas turned a sarcastic smile on Benji when he finally let her go.


    Lina was intentional when she smacked Thomas with her handbag, and she made no apology when he shot back in the seat, rubbing his nose and grumbling, "You carry bricks in that?" When she slid into the passenger seat.


    Leaning across, giving Benji a wave before he closed the door, Lina returned to her side with a shake of the head, "Must you antagonise him?" While belting up, taking notice of the Starbucks in the centre cup holder.


    Thomas picked it out, handing it to Lina as he pulled away from the pavement, heading towards Brick Lane, "I do nothing of the sort," He contested, "I am merely honest," He crossed over to Lina to open the glove compartment, revealing a much fuller file than the four pages they had that morning.


    "We have an ID?" Lina checked, nestling the cinnamon latte between her knees while taking out the file.


    Thomas hummed before speaking, "A Mrs Martha Tabram,"


    Flicking through the pages, sipping the latte, Lina got the inkling she heard the name before. It was familiar, but try as she might, Lina couldn''t pinpoint a reason why. "Who ID''d her?"


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    "Husband."


    "Alibi?"


    "Solid," Thomas sighed, "He was in A and E getting a nail taken out his hand."


    Lina grimaced, "How that happen?"


    "He works with Jacobs and Co," He flicked on the indicator, taking them out of Spitalfields, "They were doing an overnight renovation at Harrods, and he got shot by a hazardous apprentice with a nail gun,"


    Sucking in a breath, Lina mentally crossed Martha''s husband off the suspect list, "She was on the game," Miserably noting the woman''s prior convictions, how it mentioned Martha''s reliance on alcohol and that she frequently found herself homeless, she knew it opened the field to a whole number of perpetrators and motifs.


    "A sad reality for many, but easy money," Thomas came across as sympathetic, but it didn''t hang around when he said, "The CCTV over George Yard, and subsequently George Yard buildings are dud, so we''re not going to catch our guy red handed,"


    Often, in such cases, the CCTV either didn''t work or was so granulated that it was useless, which left Lina wondering why they bothered installing it. "Can we track her movements prior?" If they could find her on the surrounding streets, it would grant them at least the start of a timeline. Perhaps even a potential witness or suspect.


    Stopped at the traffic lights, specks of rain appeared on the window, promising another day of rain.


    "I have Laura and Ollie going over CCTV, and the flat footers going door to door," Thomas side-eyed Lina, "Media of course have got hold of the story and are running wild," Tapping his phone attached to the dash, it lit up, showing numerous notifications from the local media outlets, and social media.


    "Horror as woman found butchered by knife in George Yard. Police clueless. What is this, eighteen hundreds?" Lina found the headline of The Sawyern the true horror, and not even in a comical fashion. "I could write a more catching header," Coming away from the screen when it timed out, Lina resumed reading the file.


    Knowing Constable Laura Welsh and Sergeant Ollie Pike were covering CCTV footage, Lina knew that Thomas would have asked them to check Benji''s alibi. He walked the way he said he did at the rough time he gave. Especially when he said nothing about sending anyone around to confirm Benji was at Florence''s, as he stated during the interview.


    "The prints on the knife?" Lina asked, taking out the photo of the mentioned blade. It wasn''t just any kind of knife, though.


    With great intrigue and interest, Thomas glimpsed the picture in Lina''s hand and told her what he knew. "Bayonet. Boer war," there was a fascinating way he spoke about it, "Lee-Metford pattern, eighteen eighty-eight, Mk one." A hand floated over, tapping the area above the hilt on the photo, "On the ricasso, they would stamp the reigning monarch. Queen Vic, see?" He removed the finger, revealing the flat-topped crown and the VR etched into the metal. It was faded but present.


    Unique weapon choice as it was, Lina didn''t know enough about bayonets to tell if it was a rare collectors'' piece. Thomas, however, seemed to be in his element as he went on to speak at length about the particular one in evidence.


    "This one is rare, as it''s a type one," The car started to slow when it pulled into the car park of the pathologist''s office, "It has three rivets on the handle, whereas the type two only has two," The car stopped in a bay closest to the front of the looking gothic building.


    Lina closed the file, tucking it back in the glove box and finishing the cinnamon latte, "Can we trace its ownership?" She asked while stepping out of the car, spotting Abbot''s silver Porsche a space over; Lina wondered how frosty a reception they were about to receive.


    Thomas stretched before shaking his head, "Not sure yet, I have sent a copy off to the British war time museum to see if one of their boffs will cough up something useable,"


    Though not by much, they held more information than when they came across Martha Tabram''s body. "Well, until then, let''s find out what Abbot can tell us about our stiff," She stepped onto the cobbled path that stretched the surround of the building, which was once a hospital. Though how it was considered one for being so small, Lina didn''t know. "Try not to be so facetious this time. You know it pisses him off," A slight shake of the head added; Lina groaned when Thomas mimicked holding a phone and said, "You stab ''em, we slab ''em,"


    Using dark humour was only acceptable in the right company, and though Abbot possessed a wickedly dark spirit, he didn''t take well to Thomas''s. Lina believed that more to do with Abbot''s dislike of him than anything else. She caught Abbot smiling once or twice when Thomas made an off-the-cuff remark.


    Passing through the heavy ¨C and strangely ornate ¨C black door into the Victorian-looking parlour rather than a reception, Lina stopped short of finding Abbot in dark green scrubs behind the desk."Short-staffed?" Lina queried, nose wrinkling at the scent of cleaning chemicals and death.


    Abbot was busy on the computer, "No," He spoke in an idle tone, "I was waiting for you two," He didn''t even look at Thomas when he came out from the reception desk, "This way," He led them down the hall, past the chapel of rest with its crushed velvet red curtains, trimmed in gold thread, her body jolted when a shiver rippled down her spine.


    "Thirty-nine stab wounds in total. It was a frenzied and sustained attack," Abbot started giving his report before they reached the morgue, "The killing blow was a single perforation of the heart. It glanced off her rib, cutting into the left ventricle," A slight backwards glance, Abbot''s mouth pinched on one side when Thomas asked for a simplified version. "Cardiac arrest." Abbot said while rounding the corner.


    Shooting Thomas a rueful smile, Lina faced forward as Abbot punched in a number to a coded door, "Any defensive injury?" She searched about her pockets when her phone buzzed, glancing at the screen to find another text. Nothing important; it was ignored.


    With the rapid beeps of the coder before the mechanical clunk of the lock released, Abbot turned, "None." He shook his head, showing he was not so perplexed by that detail as Lina, "She was heavily intoxicated, I don''t think she even knew what was going on." He held the door open for Lina but let go when she passed through, leaving Thomas to catch the door before it closed and locked again, "There are no signs of sexual assault either, or intercourse taking place, so I think that can be ruled out as a motive." He continued.


    "A random attack, then?" Though rhetorical, Thomas asked, "Anything on the type of weapon used?" He followed up.


    Abbot held up a finger, bringing them to the metal gurney where Martha Tabram lay beneath a white sheet. Her face is swollen and vacant of any colour. Life was genuinely extinct in Martha.


    "Yes. Two weapons were used. The bayonet," He picked up a sealed plastic bag, displaying the bayonet that was in the photo, "And a much shorter one. A small kitchen knife, or pocketknife," He listed his opinions, though, of course, could not confirm, "Which I think would suggest two perpetrators."


    The use of two weapons was not peculiar, but neither common. The increase in suspects doubling in moments, Lina stroked her brow, "So, no DNA?" She was optimistic that Abbot would have something for them to work with.


    Abbot met Lina''s staring with a shake of the head, "Sadly no, but," He again held up a finger, moving to the table he took the bayonet from, "She did have two hundred pounds in new notes on her," Again another unmistakable evidence bag was produced, "Which should mean¡­,"


    Accepting the bag, Lina didn''t have it for long before Thomas snatched it, "We can trace the sequence numbers and find out where it was withdrawn," He concluded, showing promise that they were not at a dead end yet."It also rules robbery out," Lina presented another less conceivable angle.


    Folding his arms, Abbot angled his chin with no shyness that it was arrogant, "Which I hope concludes that my brother is not the individual you seek." Speaking sharp and concise, his ire was turned on Thomas, a single eyebrow curved in a challenge.Wondering when Benji''s arrest would come up, Lina spoke over Thomas to keep him from putting his foot in his mouth with Abbot.


    "He was found at the scene, covered in blood, the murder weapon under his knee," Lina gave the details, "If we let him go, it would have been seen as gross misconduct, and favour shown. Let alone evidence tampering, etc being thrown in the mix,"


    Truthfully, there was no way around it. Not without ending up on suspension and without a job. "We had to go through the process to eliminate him as a suspect."


    The fact it took under an hour was fortunate; he was home less than two hours after the arrest.


    Regarded collectedly, Abbot seemed to take onboard all the elements of Lina''s argument, and he expressed that he knew Lina could not grant leniency but that what he held issue with was Thomas and how he acted.


    "Ah. We should get going," Thomas tugged on Lina''s elbow, trying to take her from the room, and Abbot, "Send over the copy of your report, won''t you Haines," He laughed, but it was nervous if not a little awkward.


    Abbot showed no concern, but he did ask, "Shall I include your effort to contaminate the prints on the bayonet with Benji''s, in my report?"


    Shock latching onto every inch of Lina''s body, Thomas let go of her arm, spinning on his heel, "Now wait a damn minute!" He brandished a finger at Abbot, "I asked if his kneeling could have wiped his prints on the knife. I am not a bent coppa!¡± His tenor was strong, but he didn''t shout,


    "Neither are you a saint, Beckett," Abbot slewed back, his smile capricious.


    Dubious whether Thomas was capable of trying to plant evidence, Lina raised both hands when it seemed as though the two men were going to carry on, "The repressed sexual tension between you two is frustrating even myself, so unless you''re about to give the other a reach around, contain yourselves for a more appropriate time," there was a murdered woman between them after all.


    The accusation of sexual tension did as wanted, and other than them both assessing their actions, they were quiet.


    "Send over the report," Lina requested, "And you, can take us to the bank," She tugged on the bag of money, "We can make a start there," Wishing that her work and personal life did not intertwine in the way it did, Lina gave Thomas a push when his mouth opened, "Save it." She told him, "We have a murder investigation to get moving," Flicking her fingers to get Thomas moving, Lina paused to give a mouthed apology to Abbot.


    It was deflected with a wave of the hand. Abbot picked up a file, his preliminary report before the official autopsy was produced, "Here," He gave it to Lina with vague interest, "Tell Benji to give me a call. I know his phone is in evidence," He sighed before waving Lina off.


    With no further need to hang back, Lina tucked the report under an arm and, pulling out her phone, finally opened the messages. They were reminders for Lina''s upcoming doctor''s appointment at the end of the week.


    "I did¡ª" "Doesn''t matter." Lina interjected Thomas''s efforts to set his side of the record straight, "Even if you did it only confirms what I knew anyway," She pocketed her phone again, smiling thinly when Thomas cowed, a hand rubbing the back of his head, the short back and sides military cut getting a little long, the black hair held speckles of white, "And for that little stunt, you''re buying lunch for the week." She told him, smiling at the receptionist who sat up when they passed by.


    Thomas huffed, "Fine." He agreed, taking out his car keys, "But you call me sir." He reminded me, "I am your superior, remember?" Staring at Lina across the roof of the car, he deadpanned when Lina responded, "Yes," And as she climbed in the passenger seat, she flirted, "Sir," when he, too, got in the car.

 Personal Collection

    The branch manager of Huxley bank was not the most approachable of men when flashed a warrant card; and asked questions on the transactions of the bank¡¯s clients. The wiry red veins on his cheeks suggested asthma or other respiratory affliction, and still, he smoked a packet of twenty within the six hours Lina was stuck reviewing CCTV.


    Requiring a search warrant to obtain the bank details of the individual who withdrew the two hundred pounds found on Martha, the best they were granted was a date of when the twenty-pound notes came into circulation. Thomas, lacking patience, chose to leave Lina behind and drive to the British War Time Museum to gain further insight into the bayonet found, and confirmed as ¨C one of ¨C the murder weapon.


    The slog of police work and investigations often led to them being sat before a screen, closely watching unidentified individuals in grainy, jittering images. This time, at least, a mutual understanding between the ruddy faced branch manager and Lina allowed her to smoke whilst entering the seventh hour of recorded footage.


    Phone humming in her coat pocket, Lina didn¡¯t check before pressing it to her ear, a shoulder raised to wedge it in place to keep both hands free.


    ¡°DI Haines,¡±


    ¡°Cute.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Too busy to check who is calling?¡±


    Distracted, Lina took the phone out from between her ear and shoulder, glimpsing the name, before cursing under breath as she realised, she looked away from the footage she was supposed to be reviewing.


    ¡°Am I interrupting?¡± Benji sighed, sounding disappointed.


    Unable to deny Benji was a distraction, Lina paused the film, winding it back five minutes, ¡°When are you not?¡± She tutted, but it came with a smile as she swapped the phone to the other shoulder, ¡°I¡¯m reviewing something, so I can¡¯t be on the phone long,¡± She took the opportunity to stand and stretch, rubbing her thighs from their promising cramps due to her sitting crossed legged too long.


    ¡°I thought we agreed to only watch porn together?¡± Benji was relaxed, rather, he portrayed well that he was calm of mind.


    Lina hummed gently back, observing the security office, checking she was alone, ¡°I don¡¯t think it counts when you¡¯re the star of the show,¡± vaguely touching on the few occasions they filmed themselves, Lina¡¯s skin warmed with the breathy laugh that came down the line, ¡°Which, they have access to.¡± Before a short static pause filled Lina¡¯s ears.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Benji¡¯s bringing it up, set Lina¡¯s stomach plummeting, ¡°Half of IT have seen my breasts, haven¡¯t they?¡± Grimacing at the thought, it was made no better when Benji teased her with a laugh, and then tentatively broached the purpose of the call.


    They agreed that all their private photos and videos would be transferred off their phones. Especially when Benji held a penchant for losing his in bars.


    ¡°The videos are still on there.¡±


    ¡°¡­Which ones?¡± Dreading to know the answer, Lina rubbed the knotting skin between her eyebrows.


    Benji was trying to appease, and it was evident with the blow being softened in compliments, ¡°I caught you in a flattering angle. Golden hour truly is the gem of film,¡± He laughed, but it was not a joking matter for Lina.


    Taking a deep breath, biting back the stress fuelled scream, Lina started to understand how the branch manager could smoke a packet in only a few hours. ¡°Benji,¡± She whined, ¡°You promised!¡± Refraining from shouting, Lina slumped back in the computer chair.


    ¡°It¡¯s why I¡¯m calling,¡± Benji slipped into a soft tone, ¡°How suspicious would it come across if I wiped my phone from my computer?¡± He was drumming his fingers, cautious of the answer.


    Lina close to bowled backwards out the chair, ¡°You do know what evidence tampering is, yes?¡±


    ¡°Surely only counts if charged?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how the law works. They¡¯re going to check your phone to corroborate your alibi, Benji,¡±


    ¡°So don¡¯t do it, but let half of Bishopsgate station ogle at your bedroom splendour?¡±


    ¡°Chances are they¡¯ve cracked it already.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sit well with Lina, but she at least hoped the cyber forensics team would be considerate.


    ¡°Where¡¯s bitch boy?¡±


    ¡°Wartime museum.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t have access to it, will he?¡±


    ¡°No, because that is covered under distribution of exploitive material. The only ones allowed to see it, unless it must be presented in evidence, are the cyber team.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine with that.¡±


    ¡°Your fine?!¡± Lina screeched, ¡°They must create a detailed written report of everything found. Our love life is about to put Mills and Boon out of commission!¡±


    Benji snorted in his effort to cover a laugh, ¡°I was thinking the less violent shades of grey,¡±


    Eyes rolling, Lina grumbled a minute, then countered, ¡°Don¡¯t kink shame,¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± Benji mused back, ¡°But I am suffering a severe case of blood loss on the brain right now,¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you expect me to do about that,¡± There was no chance Lina was about to let Benji get all hot and bothered and leave herself high and dry. Not when there was no telling when she would be home.


    Benji had something in mind, ¡°You have the answer in your hand,¡±


    ¡°In two of them actually,¡± Lina hushed, hitching her breath, making small noises to entice Benji¡¯s blood flow issue, ¡°¡­Benji,¡± softly panting his name, Lina waited until his breaths were heavy.


    ¡°Mm?¡±


    ¡°Love you,¡± She grinned, before snapping her thumb on the hang up, smiling with a shake of the head when she set her phone down on the desk, finally lighting the cigarette she took out, and waited to tap the play button on the CCTV as her phone buzzed repeatedly.


    The first text consisted of six crying emoji. The second, ¡®Player two has left the game¡¯, before finally, ¡®Love you too¡¯ came through with a kissing emoji.


    Smiling to herself, knowing well what to expect when she was home, Lina resumed her work. Praying that something soon, would come up on screen that could get the investigation rolling.

 The Rookery

    For seven and a half hours, the CCTV stuttered and turned to static snow before the screen went black. The footage was corrupted. Which is how Lina came to be standing outside the closed bank, in the centre of Whitechapel¡¯s rising criminal rookery, with a computer hard drive in her pocket, a CD in hand, and a phone in the other.


    ¡°C¡¯mon¡­,¡± Lina huffed, watchful of the collection of overdressed Subaru with tag lines printed across their windscreens, the drivers dressed in knock-off Nike tracksuits, with ludicrously thick gold-plated copper chains ready to sell their illegal wares. ¡°Answer the phone, damn it!¡±


    Thomas driving that day meant Lina was stranded without a car, and by the hour, she knew the down and outs of society would be crawling out their hidey holes to ply their illegal trades. Not the ideal situation for a lone homicide DI to find themselves in. Not when Lina was carrying possible vital evidence that needed the tech lab back at Bishopsgate station.


    The slip street that separated Spitalfields and Whitechapel was embroiled in the postcode wars, and knifings were weekly. Then, there was the fact that the areas had not changed much since the Victorian era. Crime was rife, prostitution was the biggest economy, second only to drugs, and more than a third of the population danced on the periphery of poverty.


    Whitechapel was a living hell.


    Once more reaching Thomas¡¯s answerphone, Lina gave up, punching another number, the dial tone much shorter.


    ¡°Picking up where we left off?¡±


    Lina sighed, ¡°No. Though I do need picking up.¡±


    Benji lost the playfulness, ¡°From where?¡±


    ¡°The Rookery.¡± Using the local nickname for the town centre, Lina was hardly surprised by the jangle of keys and Benji¡¯s rushed, ¡°I¡¯ll be there in a minute.¡± Before the line went dead.


    It was a thirty-minute drive, but Lina knew Benji would do it in ten and get another speeding ticket. This once, Lina would not complain, not when the town was becoming packed with night walkers and their chaperones, the pushers taking up perch in their coveted spots that the police trawled by but did nothing further.


    Corrupt as Vice was, they managed to maintain a sense of calm and minimise the bloodshed. This was a double-edged sword of policing that made the borough of Tower Hamlets look better on paper than in reality.


    Tucking back in on the double doors of Huxley bank, Lina lit up, watching the sparrow-thin women draped in clothes that barely fit their drug-ravaged bodies prowl the curbs. Each woman had their spot. Some worked in pairs for safety, but they did not move for no woman or newcomer to the stretch of road nicknamed the East Ends drive-thru brothel.


    Women of every ethnicity and race could be found, and no shortage of customers trawled the curb to pick up a woman.


    Martha was on the game, which led Lina to consider speaking with them. None would willingly talk with the police, but¡­


    Thumb under the lip, thinking, Lina was grateful Benji brought his own car when the ear-scraping screech of his breaks and the clump when it mounted the curb drew her out of Huxley bank¡¯s doorway and down the steps, the passenger door open and waiting when she climbed in.


    Window whirring to allow a slither for Lina to poke out the cigarette and flick the ash; Lina leaned over when Benji poked her cheek, giving a short kiss before informing him that he was temporarily hired as her driver.


    ¡°Where¡¯s bitch boy?¡± Benji asked, easing off the curb and making an utterly illegal U-turn on the square.


    ¡°Wartime museum, but he¡¯s not answering,¡± Lina chose to ignore Benji¡¯s questionable driving as it wasn¡¯t her car, ¡°I need to get back to the station,¡± Which was on the other side of town, and required ¨C if Lina walked ¨C to pass through the roughest thoroughfares in London. ¡°I spent all day watching CCTV because we didn¡¯t have a search warrant, only to discover it has been tampered with at the precise hour our only lead was about to show up,¡± Frustrated was not the word, and Lina drew heavily on the cigarette. ¡°So, unless it can be recovered, we are back to square one,¡±


    Going on a short tangent, Benji stayed silent and listened, waiting until the pause came, and he mentioned, ¡°I take it the chances of you slipping me a crafty one is a, no?¡±


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Side-eyeing Benji, who was catching his eye on her, too, Lina pressed back in the chair. ¡°Actually, ¡°she was about to return to her earlier thought, Benji¡¯s eyes lighting up. Lina¡¯s mouth closed when the phone rang. It was Thomas.


    Batting away Benji¡¯s hand when he tried to take it, Lina was practically squashed against the door to keep him from it when she answered and set it to her ear, ¡°Eyes on the road,¡± jabbing to the window, Lina smiled when Benji¡¯s whole body slumped, ¡°Remembered what your phone¡¯s for, sir?¡± Asked sarcastically when Thomas came to cheerily down the speaker.


    ¡°I was getting quite the insightful talk about our murder weapon,¡± Thomas reasoned, ¡°Turns out the one we have in evidence was,¡± He emphasised strongly, ¡°Stolen about a month ago.¡±


    ¡°From whom?¡±


    ¡°A¡­, James Forsythe,¡±


    ¡°Sorry, repeat that?¡± Lina¡¯s heart slowed painfully, waiting to be sure she heard correctly.


    ¡°James Forsythe, thirty-four, retired grenadier. Lives in--,¡±


    ¡°Number five, Bucks row.¡± Lina finished, quick to keep Benji from speaking with a shake of the head, ¡°I know him. He has no previous; the burglary was reported after he returned from a night out.¡± Finishing what she knew, Lina didn¡¯t like how closely tied to Benji the murder weapon just became, ¡°I can swing by to speak with him, check it is his,¡± Stroking her temple, Lina guessed the answer before Thomas even said it.


    Benji turned with a severe scowl at the mention of his best friend¡¯s name, which was marred with wary curiosity. Unable to speak, Lina placed a finger to her lips, asking Benji to wait until she could talk freely with him.


    ¡°I¡¯m in his kitchen now,¡± Thomas was obviously smiling, ¡°How did you get on with the bank?¡±


    ¡°Dead end. It¡¯s been tampered with, so I¡¯m heading back to the station now,¡±


    ¡°Bugger! Alright, drop it in, then swing by we can take over from Laura and Ollie on the CCTV until the techies descramble the banks,¡±


    ¡°Or call the magistrate and get us a warrant?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t. It¡¯s potty Betsworth.¡±


    Lina¡¯s eyes rolled so far that she was sure she saw the back of her skull, ¡°Where¡¯s Lipwitch?¡±


    ¡°Holiday.¡±


    Hearing that the only magistrate in Whitechapel who handed out warrants like they were sweets on Halloween was on holiday was not a great start to their investigation. Harold Betsworth was a by-the-book magistrate, and anyone who went to him would have to have undisputable cause for the warrant they sought. The murder of a prostitute with new banknotes would not get them a knock on the door, let alone a foot in it.


    ¡°Swing by Starbucks,¡± Lina lowered the phone, giving Benji¡¯s mildly irritated smile a nudge with her finger, ¡°I¡¯m on the graveyard tonight,¡±


    Thomas mumbled something but swiftly covered it by asking, ¡°Grab me one?¡±


    Lina scoffed, ¡°I don¡¯t think so. You abandoned me at the bank and owe me lunch.¡±


    ¡°I will get us dinner, grab me a drink,¡±


    Throwing up one hand in frustration, Lina took a breath before answering, ¡°Fine.¡± Then hung up.


    Dropping her phone in her lap, Lina finally took the finger off Benji¡¯s mouth when he started nibbling it, ¡°The murder weapon is James¡¯s,¡± more than enough to get him to stop, Lina placed her hand at the nape of his neck, stroking the small flicks and curls of hair, picking up the tenseness in him. ¡°He¡¯s being questioned now,¡±


    Benji took a left towards the drive-thru Starbucks that backed onto George Yard, passing the luminous yellow sign posted detailing a serious incident that occurred a night ago and appealing for any witnesses or anyone with helpful information to call the anonymous tipline.


    ¡°He will jump on anything to stitch me up,¡± Benji grumbled.


    Lina knew that Thomas and Benji hated one another, but she didn¡¯t believe Thomas would fix a case to get Benji charged with murder. ¡°We must follow up on any leads. The fact the murder weapon is stolen is favourable. Had it been at James, then turned up as it did, you would be in the hot seat,¡±


    Still, it was looking too close to home again, and Lina knew why Benji turned a look on her that screamed he was not convinced. ¡°Still no crafty one?¡± He asked again, managing to shift his concern and replace it with a single-minded lust.


    ¡°No.¡± Lina took back her hand. I don¡¯t trust you not to park us in someone¡¯s boot.¡± Benji tended to stop focusing on the road any time Lina paid him tender attention in the car. There is an alley up ahead, though, " she mentioned, head tilting softly when Benji¡¯s brain ticked over and caught up. The disappointment from being told no three times in a day was missing when he cut across the road and drove into the unlit alley.


    Lina was barely out of her coat before Benji reached between her legs and under the chair. Confused at first, Lina soon giggled when her chair fell back, thumping on the backseat, and Benji slid across from the driver¡¯s side. Raising her hips when Benji latched to the waistband of her jeans, Lina met his kiss with equal fervour as he slipped the fabric over her thighs.


    Benji¡¯s breathing was hot against Lina¡¯s neck as he sucked the skin, biting gently, his hands up and under the polo jumper, seeking his favourite place to rest his hands. His head came back to hovering over Lina¡¯s when he cupped her breasts.


    ¡°They feel bigger?¡± Benji took extraordinary joy in examining Lina¡¯s breasts, checking his theory quite thoroughly, ¡°They usually sit in my palm with spare either side,¡± He adjusted his hands, ¡°But you¡¯re not complaining that they hurt, so¡­,¡±


    Gripping Benji in hand, Lina moved his attention from his analysis of her breast size, ¡°Fuck me, Benji,¡± Almost demanded with her growing impatience from the damp heat he stirred, Lina smiled when he stopped probing her breast, and with a grin to his kiss, said: ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡±