Twelve Days of Short Stories - Day 7

Looking up at the TV, Sergeant Walker could see a smartly dressed man sitting behind the news desk, fingers pressed to his ear.

“I’m just getting news that another body has been found in south London” he said. Tension curled him up, making him look instantly smaller.

“The death is being attributed to the piano killer” he continued.
“This follows sixteen other murders this month. Critics of the metropolitan police are calling this the worst series of murders we have seen since Jack the Ripper”.

“I now pass you over to our eyes on the ground in Greenwich, Pauline Maxwell” he signed off as the image flicked to a reporter standing in front of a corner store.

“Thanks, Doug” she said with an upbeat tone that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m here just shy of the site of the latest gruesome murder, purportedly by the ‘piano killer’” she explained.
“Police arrived here no more than an hour ago, and have cordoned off the shopfront behind me”.

Before she could continue, a Police Officer walked into frame behind her.

The reporter spun, shoving her microphone into the Officers face.
“Officer, officer, if I could ask you a few questions” she pleaded.

“No comment at this time” he responded stoically, his disdain for the reporter obvious.

“This is the seventeenth body, and the killer shows no sign of slowing down” the reporter pressed. “This latest murder is directly outside a shopfront, the killer appears to be getting bolder. What are the Metropolitan police doing to keep Londoners safe from the piano killer?” she probed.

He curtly shut her down. “I said no comment” and continued walking, lifting his hand between himself and the camera.

The reporter turned back to the camera, straightening her jacket before proceeding to explain. “Witnesses who reported the body say that he was discovered just after 5 am this morning, piano keys wedged crudely in his mouth”.

A commotion could be heard off camera, and police appeared behind the reporter.
“Step back please, give our teams some space” could be heard over the overlapping voices.

“I’m being herded back here Doug” the reporter hurriedly said. “I’ll pass back to you in the Studio”.

Walker stopped paying attention, returning his attention to the counter in front of him. A short lady passed him a sandwich.

“You better get out there and do your jobs” she said.
“We are Mrs. Coulter, but we still need to eat occasionally” Walker responded, trying to keep annoyance out of his voice.
“Disgusting what that killer is doing” she continued.
“I know Mrs. Coulter. We will catch him, don’t you worry”. Walker tried to let a smile pass across his face, but it didn’t. He couldn’t fake a smile, not at a time like this.
“Before or after half the city is dead?” she finished, turning back to making sandwiches.
“Good day, Mrs. Coulter” Walker said timidly, trying to end the conversation on a pleasant note.

Walker stepped out of the small sandwich shop into the fresh morning air, nodding to his partner who waited outside.
“I don’t think we will be welcome anywhere at this rate” he quipped.
“Can you blame them?” Walker said. “We are supposed to protect them, and we can’t find a single killer in the most CCTV infested city in the world”.

The air curdled in Walkers ears as screams pierced the regular sounds of people going about their business. Without waiting for each other the two officers sprinted towards the sound; coming from the park across the street.

It wasn’t difficult to find where the screams originated as a small crowd of people had clustered around something. Walker and his partner pushed through to see a bench occupied by a very dead looking man. A man with piano keys in his mouth.

“Christ above” Walker muttered, turning to his partner.
“But they said he just struck in Greenwich, that’s 10 miles from here. There’s no way he got across the city that quickly”.

Walker’s partners face dimmed. “Unless it’s not just one killer?”