Crouch End by Stephen King ?? By the time the woman had finally gone it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. Outside theCrouch End police station Tottenham Lane was a small dead river. London was asleep... butLondon never sleeps deeply and its dreams are uneasy. PC Vetter closed his notebook which hed almost filled as the American womans strangefrenzied story poured out. He looked at the typewriter and the stack of blank forms on theshelf beside it. quotThis onell look odd come morning lightquot he said. PC Farnham was drinking a Coke. He didnt speak for a long time. quotShe was American wasntshequot he said finally as if that might explain most or all of the story she had told. quotItll go in the back filequot Vetter agreed and looked round for a cigarette. quotBut Iwonder...quot Farnham laughed. quotYou dont mean you believe any part of it Go on sir Pull the other onequot quotDidnt say that did I No. But youre new here.quot Farnham sat a little straighter. He was twenty-seven and it was hardly his fault that hehad been posted here from Muswell Hill to the north or that Vetter who was nearly twice hisage had spent his entire uneventful career in the quiet London backwater of Crouch End. quotPerhaps so sirquot lie said quotbut -- with respect mind -- I still think I know a swatch ofthe old whole cloth when I see one... or hear one.quot quotGive us a fag matequot Vetter said looking amused. quotThere What a good boy you are.quot He lit it with a wooden match from a bright red railway box shookit out and tossed the match stub into Farnhams ashtray. He peered at the lad through a hazeof drifting smoke. His own days of laddie good looks were long gone Vetters face was deeplylined and his nose was a map of broken veins. He liked his six of Harp a night did PC Vetter.quotYou think Crouch Ends a very quiet place then do youquot Farnham shrugged. In truth he thought Crouch End was a big suburban yawn -- what his youngerbrother