Kizzy fly by night.

Part 14

Chapter 14

"Detectives have released CCTV footage of a young girl they need to trace after the body of Danny Rollingson was found in a Camden flat. She is urged to contact the Police so that she can be ruled out of any line of inquiry. The award-winning actor Terry Rollingson has issued a statement saying that his son was a gentle giant and he has vowed to leave no stone unturned in bringing the killer to justice. He urges the public to contact the Police if they have any information, no matter how small."

Todd looks up at the television screen in shock. Although the footage was grainy he would recognize Kizzy anywhere. He rubs his hand over his mouth and thinks what an idiot he has been.., the dyed hair... bruised face. Problem is what should he do about it? Morally he knows what to do but his heart is saying something else, Also he has lived long enough to know that life is far from black and white. He carries on working deeply troubled.

Suburbia.

The kind-hearted 'man next door' looks at the body sprawled on the floor. He glances at his watch noting that he is exactly thirty-seven and a half minutes late for work. The girl has only been dead for a day and already he detects a strong smell. He smiles indulgently at her. To him, she looks serene and beautiful. Her body, stiff as a board, and her face etched with exquisite agony. Her eyes stare at him vacantly with a slight glint of accusation which he finds amusing. His hands move inside his trousers.

Standing over her like a towering God he wonders why the act of killing is never as satisfying as the delicious anticipation. There is always an anti-climax, the feeling of 'is that it?' Then a black cloud will come down and smoother his brain and he will smoke and plan and become excited at the prospect of a new hunt. He kisses her gaping mouth gently as some eager flies hover above his head.

"Daddy has to go to work. I will see you later my Princess."

He slams the basement door and locks it securely. Inside water drips slowly like a never-ending death toll.

Kizzy.

London is much like every other city, full of problems, ups and downs but life goes on no matter what. Every face has stories to tell and secrets to shield, some so dark that they are better left unsaid. I have long come to realize that no one is truly happy and liken it all to being in the center of a huge play, with rotating characters. Now I'm jumping off that stage, a lone wolf who's ravenously hungry.

As night falls I bound up to Soho full of energy and glittering purpose. Every face and every car is scrutinized with fiery intensity. I'm determined to find this bastard and when I do I'll make him sorry he's ever been born. Gale will be beside me of course, I'll guide him and show him the way, make him a far better version of himself.

Consequences are for pedestrians, not something I need to concern myself with. Murder I think is like any other unpleasant task, hard the first time but after that it's all systems go. My mind drifts to the homeless girl and I wonder what's become of her and if there's any remote chance that I'll find her in time and become a nationwide hero, yet deep down I know this is just pie in the sky.

I stand outside the Vintage magazine shop with my foot propped up against the wall. The black Ray-bans that I'd swiped from a client give me the immunity that I need. With a touch of red lipstick, I feel confident and mysterious. It's also a shout-out to Lulu.

Observing people from behind a black shield seems safer, I can take my time sizing them up and they'll be none the wiser. A police car crawls up the street and I swiftly move not wanting to jeopardize my impending mission. I head for the office in search of Gale who as predicted is not around so I turn and walk back towards Old Compton Street.