The first time that they caught him with a body they didn't know what to make of it. In the light of no motive and no witness they accepted his explanation:

She had a sudden seizure

He was trying to revive her

She struggled with him as she regained consciousness 

He didnt know her-he'd never seen her before

She was prone -he was passing.

They kept his details. He was not cautioned. A senseless tragedy. They drew a line under the event and it would have been just that -and no more. 

When almost exactly the same thing happened two weeks later, almost to the day, the hour, the minute they did not accept his explanation. They whipped him down to the station so fast it made his head spin.He gave the same account in the same measured tone. Nothing in his very everyday profile or his unblemished history was a cause for concern.A strip search revealed nothing. And the coroner reported nothing untoward.  

But when the young man left the station they decided that he must be watched. They observed him from a distance. A long distance at first and then more closely as the two week cycle drew near.

Two detectives were within feet of him when it happened again.Within minutes the area was sealed, the dance hall closed off and formal interviews conducted of the dancers and onlookers before they could exit.

They held him this time. In a cell. He refused legal help and they interviewed him several times in a variety of styles and aggressions until they had to release him. For his explanation was sound and yet they were certain it was him. Again the coroners (two), the psycho profilers, and the matey cellmate (disguised policeman) had nothing more to work on.

Discussion of his method, motivation, mindset ran long into the thirteen nights.

On the fateful day he was there again, this time she was slightly older than the other victims, thirty one.

She was not a local girl this time. She was taller. She had a chequered past. All these differences gave them hope and all leads were investigated while he languished in the cell.

Offers of treats and privileges for a confession fell on his deaf ears. As ever, he was affable and helpful. He seemed as puzzled as they were. Even the top brass that had been summoned in readiness were flummoxed. They could not threaten or cajole anything from the helpful young man. He was as bemused as they were.

The newspapers had published.A fenzy had been whipped up. A large vengeful crowd had assembled  outside the police station.

When the time came, he was taken out of a side door, a blanket over his head to a black maria that sped off in the small hours. Several other police vehicles ran interference to deflect the paparazzi and chasers.

He didn't need a new identity. He was under house arrest. Not his house but a safe police house that the government had sequestered in a distant vilage.He did not object to being monitored twenty four hours a day. He was at ease with his captors.As the days went by they could not help but start to like him.

It should have been a surprise, but it wasn't when the young policewoman was taken away in a body bag after a fortnight.