SEVENTY-TWO
‘Yes, yes, yes, yes!’ he exalted as he watched the live press conference. This was what he was craving for. Was living for. The full attention of the press. The global recognition that here was a criminal genius. One whose crimes totally baffle the inept, bungling police. Mysteries that even Sherlock Holmes could not solve. Crimes to equal the greatest of them all, Jack the Ripper.
The Swanbitch would mumble and obfuscate and be unable to provide the answers to the most basic of questions. Who was the victim? How did the killer transport the body to the park without being seen? By magic? Teleportation?
He hugged himself with glee as the battery of cameras dazzled and bemused, gloating as DCI Swanbitch shuffled into the press room, head down, already defeated. Even through th
