Michael White - Equinox

She pulled in as close as she could to the back door and made a dash for the shelter of the porch as Philip fumbled for his key. He slipped it into the lock, but the door was already open. They both walked into the kitchen.

'Hello?' Philip called.

'In here.' It was Jo's voice.

A fire was blazing in the living room and a Django Reinhardt track beat melodically from Philip's iPod, which he had hooked up to a pair of speakers. Jo was sitting on the sofa next to another young woman. Philip recognised her vaguely. The girl was sobbing and Jo was trying to comfort her.

'What's happened?' Laura asked. 'Jo?'

'This is Marianne — she's in my topology group.' The young woman looked rather embarrassed and wiped the tears away.

'I don't mean to cause. .' she began. She had an exceptionally high-pitched voice, the voice of a little girl.

'Don't be silly,' Jo replied. 'Mom, Marianne found this in her pigeonhole at college.' She handed her mother a sheet of paper.

It was a computer-manipulated image, Marianne's head superimposed on a pornographic photograph of a nude model spreadeagled on a bed. Her hands and feet had been tied to the corners of the bed with thick rope. Using some sophisticated computer software someone had simulated a huge rip the length of the woman's abdomen, and a portion of her intestines was spilling from the gash. Above the picture in bright red lettering was written: This Is What I'd Like to Do to You,

'Do you have any idea who might have done this?' Philip asked.

'No, no, not really'

'Not really?'

'Well, there isone creepy guy in our year.'

'He's a real lech — a really serious lech, actually,' Jo added. 'Russell, Russell Cunningham. He's a psychology student but comes to some of our stats classes. Handsome, in a sort of pukey Ricky Martin kinda way, but really creepy. He's always looking at me as if he's mentally undressing me. Not nice.'

'Has this guy ever tried it on?' Laura asked Marianne.

'I don't think he'd have the nerve to actually do anything,' Marianne replied.

'You may be right,' Philip said. 'But I don't think you can go accusing anyone. You certainly have to report this, though, Marianne. I don't want to frighten you,' he added carefully. 'But it may have some bearing on the current murder investigation.'

Marianne turned visibly pale.

'I did think that myself, but I didn't like to say,' Jo said. 'I haven't been into college since the accident, and it's the Easter vac, but everyone left in hall is totally psyched-out by what's happening.'

'I know at least two girls who've gone home to their parents until the whole thing blows over. They would normally have stayed in Oxford to work through the holiday,' Marianne added.

'I can't say I'm surprised,' Laura said with a sigh and sat down in an armchair across from the sofa. 'I think you all have to be especially careful.'

'You kinda get used to this sort of thing in New York,' Jo remarked. 'But I don't know, I thought Oxford would be. .'

'Oxford's a pretty place, no doubt about that,' Philip said. 'But the people are fundamentally the same as those who live in the Bronx — or in Timbuktu, for that matter.'

'So you think I should take this horrible picture to the police?'

'I think you have to.' Philip did not hesitate. 'It's probably nothing more than a sick joke, but Forensics will want to have a look, just in case.'

The Public Records Office is a modern brick building surrounded by luxuriant and beautifully maintained gardens in the upmarket district of Kew on the south side of the Thames in west London. Here an average house is worth as much as an entire street of terraced cottages in Sheffield, and the demographic is skewed towards the As and Bs as defined by disposable income and career status. By London standards at least, the tree-lined streets are clean and safe and the cafes and shops are largely frequented by designer families with children dressed from Gap and Kenzo Kids, privately educated and cared for by American and Swedish nannies.

Founded by an Act of Parliament in 1838, the Public Records Office is home to some of the most iconic documents ever penned. These include the original Domesday Book, returns from the parliamentary elections.of 1275, an inventory of Elizabeth I's jewels, William Shakespeare's will, the confession of Guy Fawkes, and the minutes of Churchill's

War Cabinet during the Battle of Britain. It is also the repository of many records of criminal investigations dating back to the earliest years of the British police force.

To Laura and Philip's surprise they found that the police archives were indeed stored on computer files and that they could be accessed from a set of terminals in the reading room. The system was similar to the one at the Oxford library, and they found their way around it pretty quickly.

Philip opened the file for 1851 and then put in a search for 'Oxford murder investigations'. There were thirty-seven documents, listed chronologically and dating from the time when each investigation was officially started. He entered 'June'. Two investigations had begun that month. The first was a file only 22K in size, the other was 23 IK. Philip clicked on the second, reasoning that the serial killings starting that month would have been one of the largest criminal investigations conducted in Oxford for many years.

The file opened and they read the title: Investigation into the Connected Murders of Molly Wetherspoon, Cynthia Page, Edward Makepeace and Lucinda Gabling, All of Oxford, Between the Dates of 15 June and 9 July 1851 . It was 120 pages long.

'I'll get us some coffee,' Laura said.

Philip tapped her arm and pointed to a sign on the wall that read:

NO EATING OR DRINKING IN READING ROOM.

'Ah’ she sighed. 'In that case, we'd better get started.'

Philip clicked down the file and the first page of text immediately sucked them in. It was entitled CASE SUMMARYand beneath the title was written: STRICTLY PRIVATE, NOT TO BE COPIED, NOT FOR PUBLIC PERUSAL.

Laura felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck and suddenly all thoughts of coffee were forgotten.

The summary began:

'Our investigation commenced on 15 June, the Year of Our Lord 1851 and it was officially closed on 12 August of the same year.' It then went on to list the names, addresses and some personal details of the victims, as well as some background concerning Patrick Fitzgerald. There then followed three pages describing the murders, each reported in chronological order.

'My God,' Laura exclaimed. 'This is unreal.'

If the style of language was ignored, the locations changed and a few archaisms dismissed, the descriptions that Philip and Laura were reading could almost have been written during the past week. In each case the victims had died from stab wounds or by having their throats slashed. With the one incident that involved a male victim and a female one, the murdered man had been killed and then left, but the girl had been mutilated with surgical precision. In the case of the first murder, Molly Wetherspoon had her kidneys removed. In the second, the female victim, Cynthia Page, had her brain taken from her skull, and in the third murder the liver had been taken from the slain girl Lucinda Gabling.

Here were details that had never been released to the press of the time. At the scene of each murder a coin had been found. The first had been made of copper, the second of silver, the third of tin. Laura felt icy fingers run along her spine.

The commanding officer's summary report read:

After conducting a detailed and thorough investigation into the series of murders committed in this city between 15 June and 9 July 1851 we have reached the conclusion that the murders were committed by Mr Patrick Fitzgerald of Dublin, a labourer, aged 31. This official conclusion was based upon the testimony of three witnesses and later confirmed in a written confession obtained from Mr Fitzgerald on 16 July.