The Whitehavene

The Whitehaven body snatcher, isn't that so?

You tried to get into the locked drawer today, didn't you?

How do the dead come back, mother?

What's the secret? The Whitehaven body Snatcher by Tony Walker

I rang the buzzer at the front door of the house on Foxhous's road with my elbow.

Perhaps you know the house.

It's one of those big old Victorian houses now divided into low-rent flats,

owned by some by-to-let speculator who lives in London and has it managed by West Cumbrian

properties. The buzzer fizzed like a fly on a zapper, and at first she didn't answer. I stood there and waited and thought she

wasn't going to, and then I heard her tremulous voice. Hello? I cleared my throat. Hi, is that

Molly? Her youngish female voice said. Are you from the mental health team?

Yeah, that's right.

Are you expecting me?

I didn't know when it would be.

I wasn't expecting you this afternoon.

Well, we can't be specific about time, you know, because of our workload.

But here I am.

Listen, can I come in? She hesitated. I said, I can't help you, Molly,

if you don't let me in. Lots of the people in these multi-occupancy houses have problems. They're

all poor and dependent on benefits. Lots of them have alcohol or drug problems. Most of them are mentally

ill. So this girl's name was Molly Luthwaite. She was local. I'd done my research. I knew

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