Marley Murdered

Puck was invited into interview room 2. There was no recording there they said, it was just a quiet space for them to talk in. Puck saw cameras and could only assume they had audio too.

The officers - one young and one older - were both women. They seemed to enjoy looking at him, he noticed, and would pause in-between sentences with deliberate, flirtatious glances. His charisma was magnetically potent - this always happened when he was intent on something especially, and when his energy levels were high.

"Name and address please Sir,” purred the younger one, fidgeting playfully with her pen.

"We ask this of all of our visitors, even though there is no legal requirement at this time ... it's just a formality."

Puck obliged - he wanted information as badly as they did - if there was any to be had.

"R. G. Hode, Apartment A 177 Blaxland Terrace, South London."

The older policewoman shot a glance at him and excused herself momentarily from the room ... she then returned with a grey folder in her hand.

When opening it onto the table in front of him a pile of photographs tumbled out. They were body shots of a woman lying in peculiar angles; twisted, slumped, unnaturally, like a rag doll, in peach satin pyjamas.

The policewoman gingerly picked up a picture from the file that showed the face of the deceased. She asked softly, "Do you recognize this woman Sir?"

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series