The flat was even more sad than Miss Murphey’s. It was a small square room with maroon carpets and stained orange walls. At the back end was a small kitchen with cracked white tile. And a grime-covered countertop with rotten food collecting flies and maggots A purple couch sat in the middle of the room torn to rags. It’s stuffing strewn across the room. A coffee table with a broken leg sat haphazardly on it’s side. The only standing piece of furniture was an iron desk in the right corner covered in a mountain of papers and photographs Cockroaches scattered across the floor and into small cracks in the walls.

“Verdammt!” Cecil exclaimed lifting his ankle at an approaching cockroach.

Monica smirked. “Bodies aren’t a problem but cockroaches are?”

Cecil huffed. “A corpse won’t crawl up my pant leg!”

Monica groaned as she walked around the room, approaching the kitchen. She bent down towards the rotten food, holding her hair back.

“How could this food be rotten? He’s been in custody less than a day.”

“Lots of killers don’t operate in their households to avoid leaving behind evidence in the place that will be searched first. That of course, is assuming he is the killer. He could just be unsanitary.”

“You really narrowed it down there.” She sighed. She revolted her face back at the stench.

“Good lord,” Cecil mused.

“What?” Monica turned around. Cecil stood at the desk, holding a photograph between his thumb and index finger.

“He has some interesting tastes!”

Monica walked over to the raven-haired man, dodging the cockroaches nestling themselves in the carpet. She peered over his shoulder at the photograph he was holding; A woman, naked sitting on her knees fondling her breasts.

“Uh, ew!” She remarked. “What a creep!”

“Ha!” Cecil shuffled through the papers on the desk. More photographs of naked women, some men, in promiscuous positions. “Well, this is a bit dodgy.”

“Perhaps he really is our guy. Most of the women killed were found naked.”

“Maybe.” He responded, putting the photograph back and adjusting his glasses. “But dirty pictures aren’t enough. Most of the murders were done with poison, and the knife was missing from the latest scene. Perhaps we can find a murder weapon.”

“Great.” She exhaled. “Nothing I want to do more than sift through this hellhole.”

Adam hesitantly opened the door to the station; A bleak stuffy concrete building that smelled of mildew. In the front of the building, there was a large oak desk with a typewriter, a candlestick telephone, and a young woman with short vermillion hair with her face scrunched up in thought. She held a thin yellow paper file in her hand as she twirled her hair with the other. Behind her, there was a large iron door with a guard standing by, head down. Through the bars of the door, he could a lengthy hall with doors on each side. The only sound was the flickering of the lamps and the woman rhythmically kicking the back of the desk.

Adam stood awkwardly shuffling his feet back and forth before he cleared his throat.

“Oh!” The woman snapped her neck up and greeted him with a sizeable smile. “Ah, you must be Detective Clarke!” The woman quickly pushed herself out of her chair and speed walked towards Adam. “I’m Harriet Williams! The chief told me you would be here!” She offered a thin hand to Adam but pulled it back faster than he managed to shake it. “Here to question Andrews I’d assume?” Before he had time to answer, Harriet pulled a pair of keys out of the breast pocket of her red dress suit. “The keys to his room. Last on the left!”

“Ah, thank you, Miss Williams.” He took the keys from her. “One of the officers said something about him being unstable?”

“Hmm.” She patted her index finger against her cheek. “Oh yes! After questioning his coworkers, they found out he was hiding out in his apartment. When they found him he was drunk on his couch. Hasn’t been to work in three weeks. Once they apprehended him he was spouting incoherent nonsense. He’s a bit delirious so this may not be a fruitful endeavor, but what can we do?”

“Right,” He sighed. “Thanks for the info, Harriet.”

“Of course, of course!” She patted Adam's shoulder a bit forcefully. “But I ought to get back to work!” She said hurrying back to her desk. “If you have any troubles, get Paul!” She motioned to the guard by the door.

Adam's footsteps echoed hollowly as walked down the tight corridor. Heavy metal doors lined both sides, their surfaces marked with scratches and dents. He arrived at the final door and turned left. With a deep breath, he took the keys from his pocket, placing into the rusted keyhole and pushed the door open with a prolonged creek.

Inside, the room's walls were a dull green streaked with bumps caused by water damage.. A solitary barred window cast faint light into the dim space. Below it, a meager concrete ledge served as a bed, barely covered by a thin blanket. In the center of the room was an iron desk and two chairs on each side firmly anchored to the floor. Here sat a man, his hands bound behind the chair, head bowed beneath the weight of a thick, grime-streaked coat and worn black wool pants. Balding, with remnants of blond hair clinging to the sides of his head, his skin bore angry red welts tracing up his neck and across his hands, which twitched uncontrollably.

The door slammed shut behind Adam, startling the man. With a sudden movement, he jerked his head up, cloudy blue eyes that locked onto Adam's with an unsettling intensity. His dry, cracked lips moved soundlessly as he studied Adam, who shifted uncomfortably. After several moments of silence, the man spoke.

“You are… A detective?” He muttered barely audibly

“Yes,” Adam sat down in the chair across from the man and dug his badge out his trenchcoat pocket. “I’m Detective Clarke. You must be Mickey Andrews?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s cut to the chase then.” Adam clasped his hands in front of him on the table. “I’m here about the recent murders in the shopping district. Would you know anything about that?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The man didn’t answer. He dropped his head back down and started at his shoes. Adam mentally groaned.

“It’d benefit everyone if you answer my questions,” Adam said through thinly pressed lips. “You are the only possible suspect currently and my colleagues are searching your flat. If you have nothing to say in your defense then this is a pretty open-and-shut case.”

The man said nothing and he shuffled his feet.

“So, was it you then?”

“No!” The man cried out. He looked back up at Adam. “No! No, it wasn’t my idea! It’s them!.” He sobbed.

“They? Who’s they?”

“I didn’t want to. They said so.” The man droned on, ignoring Adam’s question. “I’m not allowed to stop. They are trying to frame me! I-I can’t stop, I’m sorry I’m so sor-”

“Who’s they?” Adam repeated, interrupting Andrews's rant.

“I don’t know!” He cried thrusting his body towards Adam. “I don’t know, but they’ll kill me if I don’t kill them, they will kill everyone!”

“Do you have any idea?” Adam asked calmly.

Andrews seemed to be in a different world. He stopped responding to Adam’s questioning and instead began chanting the phrase ‘I’m sorry’ repeatedly. His twitching became more erratic and his voice more strained, instead, his words came out in wretched sobs. Adam wasn’t sure what to do. This was outside is training. Luckily his guardian angels heard his prayers as he heard a knock on the door.

“Everything ok in there?” Asked the muffled voice of Harriet. “We heard screaming all the way from my desk!”

Adam swiftly stood up and unlocked the door. The petite woman stood with a concerned expression etched on her face. By her side, the gruff guard peered into the room, truncheon in hand.

“Somewhat,” Adam answered as he ran a hand through his hair. “He basically admitted to it.”

The duo seemed taken aback.

“Blazes! Did he?” Harriet ejaculated. “Paul, did you hear that? I’ll dial Enfield!” She hurried off to her desk leaving Adam and Paul standing in the doorway watching Mickey’s breakdown.

“It seems your questioning is done here,” Paul stated.

Adam watched Andrews’s figure swing back and forth in his chair, trying to escape the handcuffs.

“It seems so.”

Paul shook his head. “All that searching just for the suspect to break under questioning straight away. A bit anticlimactic. Anyhoo, I’ll take care of this guy. Gotta get him ready for his trial.”

“Ah, right.” Adam handed Paul the keys. With a nod, Paul entered the room leaving Adam alone in the corridor.

Cecil hummed to himself as strode across the room. Monica sat on her knees going through a stack of paper she picked up from the desk.

“Anything yet?” Cecil called to her.

“No, not yet. But things would go by a lot quicker if you would actually help, you lusk!”

She groused to herself as she sorted through the pile. They’d searched through the entire apartment and nothing of substance had shown up besides a few questionable items and rotten food.

“Well, can you hurry it up?” Cecil asked leaning against the wall. “This place is grossing me out.”

“Feel free to help anytime.” She grumbled. She sorted through the pile. Dirty photos, receipts, bills, nothing related to the murder.

She sighed. “This is painstaking. If he truly is the killer there has to be something! But where?”

Cecil pushed away from the wall. “Then maybe you are looking at it from the wrong angle, dear Monica!”

“Don’t call me that? But what do you mean?” She huffed. “If you thought I was doing it wrong all this time why didn’t you say something?”

Cecil waltzed over to Monica and kneeled beside her.

“Well, we have all these photos, don’t we? What woman would willingly pose this if not a prostitute? We’ve learned so far the killer is most likely a client of the victims. So all we have to do is identify these women and see if any of the photographs are of the victims.”

“That’s gonna take a while. There is a proper load of them!”

He chuckled. “Well if multiple of them are murdered prostitutes, that can only mean one thing. No reason to study them all.”

“Can’t wait for that.” She scoffed.

Monica meticulously arranged the stack of photographs, straightening each one with care before dropping them into Cecil’s lap.

“I did all the work. You will carry them back to the Yard! And hurry, time is of the essence, you know.”

Cecil retorted, “If I didn’t correct you, you would still be looking through the papers! But fine, the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

The duo rose from their seats and made their way out of the flat. As they approached the door, Cecil turned to Monica with a fake courteous gesture.

“After you, my lady!”

“Out of my way, ratbag!” She shoved him aside.

Adam stood by Harriet’s desk as she spoke with Enfield over the phone.

“Yes, I heard all the way from my desk!” Harriet told her. “Andrews went crazy!”

Harriet and Enfield chatted back and forth for a few minutes until Harriet laughed and ended the phone call with a ‘buh, bye!’ And hung up the phone.

“Alright, I told Enfield about the situation!” She said, turning towards Adam. She wants you to meet at Scotland Yard. Detective Moore and Hans are returning as well. You guys need to gather all the evidence to make a case, the attorney will do the rest.” Harriet took Adam’s hands in her own as she danced around.

“You did! You finally did it! Now the people in the Shopping District don’t need to live in fear!”

“Ah, you flatter me.” He chuckled. “But I had lots of help. Including you.”

“Me?” She giggled bringing her hand to her cheek. “I am naught but a lowly secretary! Take a compliment!”

“Still, this cause isn’t all solved. I haven’t told you this part yet but Andrews said someone made him do it?”

“Someone?” She inquired. “Perhaps it was just voices, he’s not the most stable man.”

“Maybe so,” Adam mused. “But he said if he didn’t kill them, someone would kill him.”

“Hmm.” She put her hands on her hips. “I suppose I can tell the Yard to look into any recent contacts he’s had. But it’d be hard, tracking him down took us forever.”

Adam smiled at her. “I’d appreciate that, Harriet. You’ve been quite helpful, so thank you!”

“Oh, please!” She tittered, placing her hand on Adam’s arm. “But, you can always thank me another way. With this case practically closed, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of free time! Maybe you take me out to dinner one day?”

He laughed airily. “I guess we’ll see. Either, way I should get going.”

“Ah, of course, of course, don’t want to hold you, my dear! Have a safe trip!”

“Thank you, Miss Williams,” He gave her a warm smile as he headed out the station, finally greeted with fresh air.