On the first of December, nineteen forty-eight, a man was found on Somerton Beach in South Australia. He was propped against a seawall, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. His shoes were polished, and an unlit cigarette rested on his collar. He looked like a man resting, but the tide was the only thing moving.
The true mystery began not with his death, but with its chilling precision. Every ...
