One of the greatest real life police officers in history, Chief Inspector Robert Ledru of the 1880s French Surete was a genius responsible for the capture of dozens of murderers, the destruction of grim cult movements and the arrest of violent political anarchists. In 1884, he personally took down a cabal that plotted to overthrow the French government. That would be one of his final achievements in office. In 1887, he began investigating the murder of a man found on a Le Havre beach, shot once through the heart. Without the bullet itself, the only clue was the footprints leading away from the crime scene, which appeared to alarm Ledru considerably. After a day spent on the beach studying casts of the footprints, the great detective suddenly announced that the case was solved... and said no more, returning to his rooms. The next day, Ledrus suspicions were confirmed when the bullet was finally found. He compared it with the rounds taken from his own weapon, proving that the murder weapon was his own gun, and asked to be taken into custody. He had killed the man, although he had no recollection of doing so. It transpired that, on the morning of the discovery of the body, Ledru had awoken to find himself with damp socks. Upon examining the footprint of the supposed killer, hed noticed that the man had a missing toe the same toe he himself lacked. Hed tried to think of every other conceivable possibility, but had been left with only one conclusion: hed sleepwalked to the beach with a loaded gun, and killed a stranger. His colleagues locked him up, but were loath to believe that such a thing was possible until they witnessed him rising at night, still asleep, taking the pistol from under his pillow and firing it at one of his guards. Fortunately, the prop gun was full of blanks. Ledru was never placed into a real prison, however: his record and reputation allowed him to be placed under house arrest for the rest of his life, attended by armed guards and doctors. The great detectives last case was his greatest triumph, and his worst defeat.
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
