The Whitechapel Homicide Division found themselves scattered all over town during autumn. There were plenty of cases, often gruesome ones, because such was the legacy of Whitechapel that this part of London seemed to favour the wicked and insane.
The trial period for Simon Stark was drawing to an end. Field work, Simon decided on his way to the commander’s office, was not his métier. They had promised him the fast track and a desk job in the immediate future, and Simon was wholeheartedly looking forward to it.
“How does Chief Inspector in the administration sound?” the commander announced. He was pleased with Simon’s work, he had verbalized that, and his body language suggested that he was pleased with himself as well. He continued, “You’ve done outstanding work as DI, your team’s report
