“So, why did he do it?” Flemming wanted to know later. They were sitting in the incident room, half-heartedly working on their reports because Simon was very outspoken that a party was not appropriate. Still, Pollard had brought cake, and Heart had procured beer from somewhere. Simon wondered briefly how things like that kept happening despite his disapproval.
Ralph gave a shrug. “Beats me.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Simon explained. Garland Grimble had been a very unhappy man—lonely, sad, traumatised. “He killed them because they were happy. He couldn’t stand somebody being happy when he wasn’t.” Not a sublime message to the Whitechapel police or anybody else. Just an unhappy man who had snapped.
Simon looked around the table at his team. He was at ease with his decision to stay. A desk job
