The area’s not exactly uptown, but it’s by no means bottom-of-the barrel, at least around the top end of the road where we arrive. It looks the kind of place ordinary folks work during the day or come out for the evening: budget outlets, a late-night liquor store, bars, cafes and restaurants, a cinema…
It’s all perfectly normal. Windows are cleaned. The fingerplates on doors are polished. Someone’s made an attempt at scraping up the pizza-shaped remains of gum from the sidewalk outside the cinema.
And I’m here helping in the hunt for a serial killer.
It’s surreal.
The height of the year, and despite the late hour, it’s only barely dusk, but a couple of hundred yards further along, a sign glows against the evening. Sapphire Club! Exotic Dancers! All Kinds of Girls! All Beautiful!
Sapph
