My name is Detective Alex Remnant of the New York City Police Department. It is April 30th,1930 and the people are starting to suffer from the dramatic effects of the depression. The crime rate has increased dramatically since the war ended twelve years ago. Right now I am tracking a serial killer who has already killed twenty two people so far. The telephone rings, and I answer it, “Detective Remnant” I answered. “ This is Officer Wistful from the Manhattan District we have an other murder and we believe it is another victim of the Killer Zebra” “ Where are you Wistful?” I inquired. “ At a pretty shady establishment on Madison Ave, called Elephant Love” “Okay I am on my way, and be sure to have a cup of coffee ready for me as well. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long day.” Better make that twenty three victims.
I entered through the shady establishment,whose outside was swarmed by the press, to find that it was some sort of harem of over weight women. The victim was killed by loss of blood from being cut open and her intestines dangling. “No one is to know the details of the way the vic' died!” I had exclaimed. “Where is Wistful and my coffee?” I shouted. “I am here sir and I apologize for being late but the Magical Java across the street was closed so I had to go to a restaurant called the Sporting Potato to get your coffee.” he said. His name suits him for he seems to be the type to apologize for a lot of regrets he has. “ Thank you officer, so please tell me why you think this is the Killer Zebra?” I inquired. “He left his calling card sir!” He answered. The Killer Zebra's calling card was literally a white card left by all of his victims with two letters in a dashed font “KZ”. This'll be bad if I can not put a good spin for the press. It will get more attention than the article about the invention of the escalator. I exit the building to release a statement about the killing and while giving the statement I felt more nervous than I when I set out for the war sixteen years ago. “I will now take any questions you may have” I announced. “Sir how much blood loss did the victim lose from her intestines before she died?” the reporter asked. I thought Mr. KZ would be hiding amongst the press “Well Mr. Reporter” I said as I draw my weapon. “ I never said how the victim died, did I Mr. KZ!” I got him, and the case is closed. Morale of the story, A man's pride shall be his own downfall!
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