I am currently at Scotland Yard, after my pre-arranged visit to Miss Melina Murrow's residence. This is the earliest available moment I have had to write. I will try and get this down as quickly as possible so I can still recall the facts as they are, or were, before my memory exaggerates them... as if it could!

I knocked clearly at the front door of the house and waited patiently for a response. Alas I received none. I dared to twist the polished brass handle facing me though the door was observably locked. I was immediately troubled as it was 8:00 pm - just as we had arranged. I looked for some kind of side door or servant's entrance but found this locked also. I noticed upon the tiled floor, fragments of glass and then saw the broken window. I climbed in through the window, taking care to pull my coat over my hands so as not to damage myself on the jutting glass. I found myself in the kitchen. The stove was lit with pots boiled dry above it and the air was full of a foggy vapour. I stepped steadily through the room until I found myself at the vaguely open door to the study. Sounds were emanating from within so I entered with haste.

The image I saw then I will never forget, though I wish I could. Young Melina was laid on the floor next to an old bureau, virtually naked apart from the shreds of her destroyed clothing wrapped around her neck. Her chest was motionless. I saw the lines of blood, that glinted in the candlelight, like red snakes stroking themselves over her soft white skin. They created a pool in her naval and chased down in fragmenting groups. She was dead. Obviously not the source of the sounds I had heard, but still warm.

From behind the candelabra I made out the figure of a man; he seemed aware of my presence but made no visual attempt to move. As the shadows flickered across his face I could see his eyes staring through me. I looked at her. He must have done this, this wicked crime. If it was possible that I had somehow become accustomed to scenes of murderous death, of someone so beautiful I had not. I felt a rage burn through every vein in my body; a blaze of hot anger ready to explode from a blackened coal. I felt the revolver in my hand and fired all of its contents into that disgusting creature.

I took it upon myself to examine Melina's injuries further. Her slender neck was scratched and cut, the point of release for the stroking snakes. I followed their trail down to her shoulders and to her breasts, the perfect skin spoiled by the occasional bite. Her stomach was covered in either saliva or semen. I took samples to test later. Her sexual organs were bruised and collected with small beads of blood. I examined her internally to find more bruising and tearing. Sergeant Fraiman is in need of me again, I will continue this later.