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Coups de cœur Cultura
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The fog hung thick and impenetrable over London as Inspector Harringford walked through the narrow streets of Whitechapel. The monochrome glow of the city seemed almost eerie at this early hour of the morning, shrouding the decaying buildings and making the lanterns look like ghostly apparitions. An uneasy shiver ran down his spine, while the icy air coloured his cheeks red. Despite the cold and the damp stone beneath his feet, there was no denying the vibrant life of the metropolis in this darkness - the distant roar of traffic, the muffled murmur of early commuters and the occasional cough of a street vendor advertising his wares early.
The call he had received from Scotland Yard's emergency services was a disruptive event in the otherwise so familiar hustle and bustle. He had hurried to his official car when news of a gruesome discovery near Whitechapel Road had reached him - a woman's body, mercilessly strangled and draped with a one-penny coin on her forehead.
