The Malvern Murders

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Ravenscroft looked down at the bundle of rags that lay at his feet, hoping there would still be some signs of life from within. The only light came from the end of the alleyway and was of little help to him.

He lowered one knee onto the rough cobbles and turned back the clothes, knowing what he would find there. He had seen many dead bodies before, in this area of Whitechapel, over the previous few years, but the realization still came as a shock to him. The victim was a young girl, probably no older than twelve years of age. There were red marks round her throat where she had been strangled. A small trickle of blood was already staining her clothes, from a wound at the back of her head caused when she had hit the ground. He placed his hand on her face; the body was still warm. A few minutes earlier she would have been making her way along the alleyways, that criss-crossed this part of London, perhaps on her way home after visiting some friends or returning from her work in one of the nearby factories. She had been someone’s daughter, sister, friend, helper- and now the people that had been known her would be anxiously awaiting her arrival, and would soon begin to wonder what was keeping her, and why she had not returned.

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