At 6.50pm, Red Max rang the doorbell of 35 to 36 little Newport Street.

The lodging of a petite French brunette, unnervingly similar to the other three victims, who

was known as French Z. He didn't wear a disguise, or bring a weapon, as Max's power was

his stranglehold and so-ho. A place so in fear, he could kill in plain sight and disappear

into a busy city street, as no one dared to speak his name. Unlocked by the prostitute's

terrified maid, as with Fifi, Marie and Leia, the street door led up a tight stair, as

his heavy boots thudded up to this soon to be crime scene of another killing. By the time

the police would arrive, the room would be cleaned, the evidence erased, the witness

is silenced, and the killer unseen. Many have speculated that the so-ho strangler wasn't

the work of a sadistic serial killer, or a series of copycat killings, but a white

slave, sending a message to his pimps, girls and ponces. And now, just a few streets south

of the murders of Fifi, Marie and Leia, a rifle crime boss, was dead.

Roger Marcel Verne was born on the 4th of January 1901, in Fontaineux, Cevoir, a pleasant

suburb on the outskirts of Paris. His father was a postal official, his mother was a housewife,

and coming from a good hard work in family, although he was educated and cultured, Roger

wanted more.

Nignamed Petit Georges, owing to his small stature, Roger was a thin, slightly-built man,

barely five foot high in heels, who wore very expensive, exquisitely-tailed suits, to hide

the fact that they were child-sized. And although, with dark, slicked-down hair, a florler's

face, an often-wearing and natty little bow tie, many mistook him for a little boy dressed

in his Sunday best, but in truth, he was an angel-faced killer.

Like a little highland terrier, Roger could become loyal and intensely smart, but burdened

...