The funeral of Nellie Howard. From book Norwich Murders by Maurice Morson
- Credit: Keiron Pim
On a dark night on the edge of winter, Police Sergeant Walter Slater walked briskly along the quiet lane linking Catton to Hainford, his trusty oil lantern his only companion.
The beam of light cast strange shadows along the path, but what Sgt Slater saw by the hedgerow on the lonely road was unmistakable: it was a woman, lying in the grass, half in and half out of a ditch.
Quickening his pace, Slater swung his lamp over the form in front of him: he quickly realised that he had walked straight into a crime scene – there in the lamplight was the body of a young woman, fully-clothed, her face and neck slashed, blood soaking her pretty green dress.
The funeral of Nellie Howard. From book Norwich Murders by Maurice Morson
- Credit: Keiron Pim
On a dark night on the edge of winter, Police Sergeant Walter Slater walked briskly along the quiet lane linking Catton to Hainford, his trusty oil lantern his only companion.
The beam of light cast strange shadows along the path, but what Sgt Slater saw by the hedgerow on the lonely road was unmistakable: it was a woman, lying in the grass, half in and half out of a ditch.
Quickening his pace, Slater swung his lamp over the form in front of him: he quickly realised that he had walked straight into a crime scene – there in the lamplight was the body of a young woman, fully-clothed, her face and neck slashed, blood soaking her pretty green dress.