I started looking over the body for a lead. She's just like the others; late teens and by her outfit, I'd bet money she was prostitute. There were hemorrhages forming around her eyes, mouth, stomach and wrists. Her knuckles were swollen and there appears to be specks of blood underneath her fingernails; must've came from fighting back. Her underwear was torn. It wasn't hard to catch because her silver colored skirt barely went past her groin. Then I noticed it. The infamous single gunshot wound to the chest. I continued to search her and found smudged motor oil on the bottom of her clear platform shoes. There's an auto mechanic garage a few blocks from here. I suddenly got an earful of sirens wailing. My investigation has come to an end. I left the victim to pursue my lead. The auto mechanic garage was closed for the night but the ladies of the evening posed out front and solicited for dates. They're all dressed just as sleazy as the victim. The squad cars raced past them; blaring sirens and igniting the block with red and blue strobe lights. It wasn't too long before they put two and two together; one of their own has just become the eleventh victim to the serial killer. The ladies abandoned their posts and trotted to the subway station in their clear platform shoes.
