I’m sorry if this sounds like a harsh question but is there any chance Stephanie was an escort?”

“Like a prostitute?”

“Yes.”

“Doubtful. She had way too much self-respect for that.”

“Do you recognize this device?” asked Tyler. He pulled out his phone and showed Josh a picture of the BDSM table in Stephanie’s apartment.

“Nope. Never seen that in my life.”

“No problem. How about gambling? Was Stephanie involved in that in any way?”

“Nope. Not that I know of. Although she knew her way around a deck of cards.”

Tyler looked up from his notebook. “Did she?” he asked.

“Yeah. We played card games a few times. She always won.” Josh laughed but his brief smile quickly returned to despair.

“Was she just lucky?”

“No, not at all. She used to hide cards in her hand while dealing and stuff. She was skilled. I told her she should become a professional magician but she just laughed it off.”

Tyler suddenly froze.

“Oh my God,” he said.

“What?” asked Josh.

Tyler picked up the phone. He dialed Cael.

Josh began tapping his leg impatiently. “What is it?” he asked again.

“Josh, I don’t think she was laughing off your comments at all.”

Cael answered the call.

“I have it,” Tyler said into the phone.

“Me too,” replied Cael.

“What have you found?”

“The same as you. I’m on my way to Edgware Road. See you in ten.”

Josh shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Josh, your girlfriend had a secret life.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why she kept it from you but she must have had her reasons.”

“Just tell me, will you?”

“Stephanie was a magician’s assistant.”

After a few seconds of consideration, Josh nodded his head. “It makes sense,” he said.

“And her killer knew it.”

“Oh God.” Josh had connected the dots. Tyler wasn’t looking forward to witnessing him digest the truth. “She was cut in half. Does that mean…?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it means. I’m so sorry.”

Josh fled the lounge and ran to his downstairs bathroom. For the tenth time that morning, Josh Chambers vomited out everything inside of him.


12

 

 

Before the two detectives could make their way to Edgware Road at the suggestion of Omar Sabir, a message from the chief of police interrupted their activities. Tyler, Cael and the rest of the London Met team designated to the case had been summoned back to HQ.

Andrea Randall was in her mid-40s. She maintained an elegant look, from her leather boots to her silky auburn hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail. She was a woman under constant stress from her position as chief of police but at first glance, it was impossible to tell.

“Gents,” she said, addressing the room from behind her desk, “I know very little about what’s going on. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in other shit for two days.