Death Marks (The Symbolist)
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Authors: Katy Walters
Death Marks
Katy Walters
Copyright 2012 Katy Walters
Oakwood House Publishing
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
Book Cover: Katy Walters Copyright 2013
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Author Katy Walters
Formerly KJ Carter
To Doctor Tanya Walters. Thank you
for your care and help. It was fun to know we both love books.
For in that sleep of death what dreams
may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.
Shakespeare: Hamlet
Hearing
a ferocious buzzing, two boys squinted through the trees. The taller one, walked warily towards the mass of flies, his friend clutching his arm. Mesmerized, they stared at two naked bodies, at the jagged flesh ripped from chest to pubis. Entrails glittered in the sun, the colours bright scarlet and purple, marbled with yellow strings. The organs seemed to move through the frantic thrumming of tiny wings. Backing away, the boys turned to run, only to trip over piles of white sticks. Frenzied, they picked themselves up, fleeing through a silent forest of yew trees. Death followed, snickering at their heels.
***
Using a serrated knife, Jennet cut deftly through tender meat. Daniel Redd's mouth tightened, as bright blood seeped onto the white porcelain plate, mingling with green florets of broccoli. He tried to banish the images flooding his mind. He still couldn't stand the sight of meat cooked rare; in fact, the only meat he could tolerate was a well-scorched beef burger.
Putting down her fork, Jennet looked at the grooves around his mouth, the grey shadows under the eyes. 'You look as if you haven't slept. D'you think you've gone back too soon?'
'It's the damn nightmares - but I'm okay - really.'
'Not you're not; I'm your sister, goddammit.'
Brushing his fingers through dark hair, he said, 'I have to work Jen, I'll go crazy if I don't. I can't mope about anymore.' Feeling the cell phone vibrate in his back pocket, he took it out to see the station number. 'Hello? ... Yes. DCI Redd speaking.'
His face tightened, as he listened to the gravel tones of the desk sergeant. 'I see.... Okay ... So it's Kingley Vale?' He frowned; it was Sunday; his secretary wouldn't be there. 'Could you put me through to the officer in charge please?'
Laying down her fork, Jennet whispered, 'Is it —'
Shaking his head, Redd talked into the phone, '
Hi ... homicide - Kingley Vale ... okay. Get hold of DS Dove. Tell her to preserve the site. Contact the Divisional Surgeon to confirm the death and the pathologist – Dr. Mahoney. If he argues, tell him the case is complicated. I'll meet them there - it'll take me about an hour.'
***
Gazing at the packed car park, Redd saw officers squeezing between groups of people, taking down car numbers and registration details. They also needed to record tyre markings. This would take time; he could see tempers rising.
The narrow dirt track leading to a crime scene heaved with picnickers, walkers, and any number of dogs. Sweating in the heat, more officers scribbled down addresses and details of each person, as voices rose above the general hum.
'What's happened then officer?'
'No, I ain't giving you my private details. I had nothing to do with this.'
'We were just walking out here.'
Trying not to snag his jacket on the barbed wire fencing, Redd inched by heaving bodies, a tight smile on his face. Passing the open door of a mobile crime unit, he saw an officer already at work, scrolling through an evidence analysis computer. He looked over to Redd, grimacing. 'It's going to be a long day sir.'
'I see SOCO are hard at it.' White suited forensic officers photographed the crime area, while others examined tree trunks and overhanging branches for prints and fibres. Yet more, knelt, brushing patches of grass, or picking among the rich peat of the paths and groves of yew trees.
Leaving the unit, Redd nodded to a group of detectives waiting for him at the perimeter tape, their beaded eyes and taut muscles told him of the horror. As he waved his warrant card at the security officer, he saw Chief Superintendent Nigel Titmouse peering at the tent, while DS Felicity Dove, Redd's new partner stood by, both in protection gear. What the hell was the man doing here? Bastard pushed his way in as usual. 'Got here as soon as I could sir. I was the other side of Brighton when I received the news. I also had a call on the way, from the Deputy Chief Constable.'
The Chief's eyes flitted to Redd's sandaled feet, a sneer pulling at thin lips, his eyes taking in the jeans and leather jacket. 'Prepare yourself - it's sickened even the die-hards.'
DS Dove pulled at the white paper hood covering her corn corkscrew curls. 'A couple of PCs threw up - not been on the job long. I've had the bodies covered - trying to keep the flies off.'
Titmouse growled, 'Bloody mess is steaming in the heat - already stinking. SOCO took pics of the remains, done the vids and measurements.'
Irritated with the callous way Titmouse referred to the bodies, Redd turned to Dove. 'You've designated an official note taker?'
'Yes boss, I thought PC Matthews would do fine. I've given him a detailed list of instructions - who's picked up what, when, and where it's taken. SOCO's scratching their initials on all the evidence.'
'Good, now let's go see the crime.'
Hurrying by his side, Dove whispered, 'You going to be okay?'
Annoyed at her intimacy, Redd nodded. Fingering the pills in his pocket, he hoped they wouldn't be necessary.
Walking to the fresh faced constable handing out protective clothing, Redd yanked on the Tyvek coverall, zipping it up to his neck. Pulling the hood over his head, he tried not to tense up. Dove followed, keeping close. 'It's bloody awful boss.'
Two victims lay side by side. He bent and gently pulled off the plastic covers to reveal their tattooed bodies, opened from sternum to pubis, the vicious cuts formed a cross; entrails spilled over the ragged edges of flesh. With flies buzzing around his head, he tried to fight the bile stinging his throat. His eyes hovered over the pile of bones laid out beside the remains; they looked bleached.
He waved his hand through the flies to see a scroll of rough old parchment affixed to the male chest by a dagger, the message of stick-like markings, indecipherable. Feeling the dizziness sweep over him, his fingers closed on the pills. Flipping them into his mouth, he pushed them under his tongue. They worked quicker that way. Stepping outside the tent, Redd steeled himself to look composed; Titmouse just needed one sign of weakness, and he'd take over.
Pulling down the ridiculous hood, he looked over to see the CS smirking, his voice acid, as he said, '
That's one sick fuck.'
Dove turned to Redd, her freckles standing out against the pallor of her face. 'What d'you think boss?'
'Insane. Where's the bloody head?'
The Chief's eyes narrowed. 'Not too much then? I mean if it's getting to you, I could assign this over to DI Seaton.'
Redd's fists clenched. Titmouse wanted the limelight. He damn well knew why he was off duty for over a year, why he nearly resigned from the Force. Bastard. Choosing his words, keeping the underlying anger out of his voice, he said, 'What about the gangland riots? Can't split himself in two.'
With a slight sneer, Titmouse took out a toothpick, munched on it, leaving it between his teeth, as he said, '
Nearly cleared up now, just a few loose ends, the ringleaders are in custody. Case is ready to go to court.'
'The DCC's asked me to be SIO on this case.'
Titmouse smirked. 'Go ahead. I'll be watching you - one fuck up and Seaton's in.'
Ignoring him, Redd turned to Dove. 'I see the Divisional Surgeon declared the vics dead, but as it's a complicated case, I've asked the pathologist to come in. He should be here soon.'
Dove touched his arm. 'Boss, I need some water, can I get you some?'
Redd nodded. 'Thanks I could do with it.'
Watching her stride away, his eyes on her buttocks, Titmouse said, 'This case is too much for a woman to handle - vics' guts spewing out - decapitations.'
Redd gritted his teeth. 'She's tough - balls of steel. She can handle it and more.'
'Yeah well - we'll see. Frenzied attack - fucking maniacs.'
Redd raised his eyebrows at the inane remark. 'Frenzied? More likely planned. Look at the crosscuts, the bones - the perp posed the bodies. This is a secondary scene; static - no blood; the unsub didn't slaughter the vics here.'
They waited in stony silence for the young detective to return.
Handing Redd the water, Dove said, 'I don't know why, but dead bodies always leave a taste in the mouth.'
'Yeah, takes a hell of while to go.'
'Some say it's our own bile, but bile doesn't have that kind of taste; it even gets into the mucous cells in your nose.'
Titmouse coughed, taking the toothpick from his mouth. 'Shut it detective, you make me feel sick.'
Seeing Dove flinch, Redd said, '
Yeah, even eucalyptus doesn't work.'
Her cheeks flushed
. 'I hope we catch the bastard.'
'Yeah. I've got a feeling this isn't his first strike.'
'What makes you think the unsub's a he?'
Redd waved towards the tent. 'Look at the bodies, adults - late teen's maybe, judging from the male's face. I think we're talking about at least a hundred and eighty pounds for the male, a hundred and twenty for the female - can't see a woman lugging those weights, let alone the bones. She would have to park outside the dirt track, and then drag them through the forest. I think there's more than one unsub.'
Titmouse continued chewing, the toothpick fast disappearing. 'Yeah, one person couldn't have done this alone. They'd have to do it at night, park the car or van, carry the remains through the dirt track, then the forest.' He stopped, as he saw the short rotund figure of the pathologist, Dr. Quinn Mahoney walk towards them.
Redd muttered to Dove, '
Don't be surprised when he calls the vics' his relatives. He has a profound respect for the dead and considers each one to be related to him.'
Dove
said. 'Sounds like a kind man.'
'Only in respect to the dead, other than that, he can be a mean bastard.'
Head bowed; Mahoney shuffled across the dirt path. As usual, he wore a shabby linen jacket, pockets bulging with questionable rags and handkerchiefs, complimented with stained trousers. With his shirt unbuttoned displaying a rug of ginger chest hair, he looked more like a derelict, all he needed was a bottle in a brown paper bag. His decrepit appearance belied academic accolades galore.
Waving away the young constable offering protective clothing, Mahoney glared at Titmouse. 'Don't be thinking I'll wear that clown's outfit. Now have they finished up here?'
Redd nodded. 'Yep, it's all yours.'
The doctor took out a grimy handkerchief to wipe his forehead. 'I'll be seeing to the relatives then.'
Titmouse, knowing better than to argue, acquiesced with a nod of his head.
Ducking into the tent, Mahoney shouted, '
What the fuck is this? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what maniac would be doing this now?'
Redd saw the tent flap open, as the doctor bellowed, '
Will ye be coming in then?'
Gesturing for Dove to follow him, Redd entered the tent to see the pathologist on his knees, scrutinizing the remains; he did at least wear latex gloves. Prodding at the organs, he muttered, '
Fresh - still warm. But then, it's bloody hot today; they could cook in this temperature.'
In the closeness of the tent, Redd felt a rush to his head, but the pills worked. He could look at the organs without succumbing to the images, flashing through his mind. Esther ... her face rose before him. '
So they've decapitated both of them, but left the head of the male. The wounds are pretty rough - flesh ragged. Why the tattoos? They're covered in them.'
Mahoney scratched his chest. 'Tis the divil's work - cutting through the ribs to get at the heart and lungs. They took out the intestines, and then replaced them. I'll have to leave it until we get them to the lab. However, I can tell ye now, the buggers interfered with the organs. Look at this kidney - sliced through. And, the same goes for the heart.' Picking it up, he gently pri
zed it open, showing the valves smeared with rusty blood. It....' His voice trailed away, as Dove gave a small cry, but held her ground.
Redd, seeing her revulsion, whispered, '
Leave if you want. You don't have to do this.'
Raising her chin, she straightened her shoulders. 'I'll stay boss; I've got to. I've done traffic, so I should be used to it.'
Mahoney looked up. 'Tis guts ye have now colleen.'
Dove blushed, whilst Redd gave her a nudge. 'Huh - praise? You're honoured.'
The pathologist managed a wry smile. 'Now let's be thinking about this.' With gloved hands, greasy with drying blood, he took another rag from his pocket, and wiped his face. 'I'm thinking there's more to this than a manic attack. They posed the bodies.'
Redd nodded. 'Some profilers believe that's a mark of respect - twisted as it is.'
Prodding the lungs, Mahoney muttered, 'Tis difficult to place time of death.' Looking up at Dove, he said, 'D'ye see the blood settled in the bottom of the lungs? Same with the kidneys; see the discolourations? Lividity - dark purple - blood depleted of oxygen. We're talking about hours. But, if they removed the organs and then—'
'They? I agree with you
,' Redd murmured. 'There's more than one involved.'
'Tis only a guess man, but with two bodies, decapitations, the entrails marked - tis a surgeon's hand here to be sure. But, I think he'd need help with the carrying and arranging. Look at these entrails, they're not just stuffed back in; they're placed correctly.'
As she looked at his bloody hand gesticulating, at the organs pulsating under his touch, Dove's hand went to her throat, the other clutching at Redd's jacket, as she swayed.