Nick didn't have a good feeling when they received the call and now he knows why.
The body is one hell of a mangled mess. The man (at least that's what forensics had said it was) is lying sprawled across his couch which is soaked red with blood. His face is so badly cut Nick can't really classify it as a face anymore and his torso has been split and torn open so he looks like a gaping carcass. All his ribs, deflated lungs and various other organs are exposed and blackened by dried blood. He looks like a bear came and ripped him open.
Nick can't remember the last time he investigated just a normal shooting. Heaven forbid there could be a normal crime in this city.
"What's the deal with our victim here?" Hank asks Wu.
"Carver Burks, aged 52. He's a retired landscaper. Scary job, lots of competition. Has no family in the city and no criminal record. A couple speeding tickets though."
"Yeah, a couple tickets makes you a hard core criminal all right." Hank laughs ruthfully.
"So, this wasn't a revenge killing. He doesn't look like the gangster type." Nick comments, looking around at the quaint cottage-like house. A little less quaint with all the blood splattered everywhere. The place reminds Nick of the Blutbad that kidnapped Robin Howell, his house was a lot like this one.
The house has clearly been broken into by the way the door is no longer on its hinges but all the way in the living room and lying in splintered pieces. The entire crime scene screamed Wesen.
"Do we have any prints?" Nick says.
"That's the strange thing. We've swept every surface in this house but all we can find are his prints. Looks like this guy didn't have any guests recently." Wu says.
"Well, whoever did this is a good killer." Hank says.
Nick finds it absolutely amazing that there isn't a single print. The struggle obviously went all over the house because there's blood in almost every room. Not that the man isn't cut up enough for it but to have no prints at all throughout the entire house is baffling.
Nick leans in to analyze at the cuts all over the man's face. They're nasty, jagged slashes that took out his eyes and flayed the rest of his face.
"Do you think a knife could do this?"
"Yeah, if it was a steak knife. Look how the cuts are all ripped around the edges. We'll have to see what Harper says for confirmation. I don't think we'll get much more out of this place." Hank says as he heads to leave.
Nick trails behind him but his eyes are caught by a phone address book lying on the kitchen counter. He peers over at it, pulling out his own notepad. He scrawls the first five numbers down but stops when he hits the sixth.
Eddie Monroe
503-99-
He doesn't have to write that one down but it does raise enough questions. This guy doesn't have a lot of clocks that he's seen so why would he have Monroe's name down in his address book? Unless they knew each other. He almost has a hard time believing Monroe knew anybody the way he chose to live, a bit isolated. Fortunately, all his questions can be answered with a quick visit to his Blutbad friend.
Back at the Precinct Nick manages to evade Hank and makes a quick trip down to Monroe's. Recently, he'd become paranoid with the thought of discussing Wesen activity on the police phones as it was just asking for trouble. And that was really the last thing he needed. As much as cops like to pretend their computer system is invincible all it would take is one good hacker and things could snowball from there. Especially if a Wesen or a Reaper got their hands on that kind of information.
Monroe places the coffee cup down on the kitchen table and Nick accepts it gratefully.
"So who is this guy? You say he got torn open?"
"Yeah, looked a bit rough around the edges to say the least. His name is Carver Burks. I found your name in his address book so it piqued my curiosity."
"Do you cops go rifling through every dead man's belongings?" Monroe asks sarcastically.
"When they've been brutally murdered, yes. Do you know him?"
"Vaguely. He's a…was a Blutbad, so we kind of kept our distance. But his daughter collects antique clocks so whenever he gets one that's broken he has me fix it before he sends it down to her. We never really hung around much though, the whole Blutbad thing and all."
"Was he reformed?"
"Oh yeah, gave up the child steal thing ages ago. He was Weider for like twenty years. Who killed him?"
"No idea, no prints, no weapons, no nothing. But it was pretty violent, his chest was practically gouged out. He was hardly recognizable. Whoever did this really tore him apart. "
"You're thinking it's a Wesen?"
"Yeah, what else would tear him apart like that? But what would take on a Blutbad?"
Monroe thinks hard on that.
"There's not a lot really. I mean, we have conflicts with Jägerbär when they get in our territories or any other predator types but its pretty open without any evidence. It could even be like that crazy Mauzhertz you dealt with, the one that murdered a Lausenschlange."
To hear Monroe say that makes Nick slightly more frustrated with the dead-end-ness of this case.
"And that's the problem. There aren't even any witnesses. The neighbours heard nothing at all last night. There is nothing to work on, aside from calling the numbers I got from his house. But I was hoping you'd have something on this guy. Or a clue, or anything."
Monroe shrugs his shoulders.
"Sorry Nick, as far as I know this guy did nothing to get himself killed. He was a pretty committed Weider."
Nick sighs and stands, taking a last few gulps of coffee before heading off.
"Thanks, Monroe. I'll see you later."
Monroe would say to keep him posted but he knows he will be, if he asks for it or not.
Back at the Precinct Hank hasn't dug up much either.
"Get what you were looking for?" Hank inquires when Nick returns.
"No, actually. But I got five more numbers to check out here. I just recognized one and thought I'd better personally check it out."
Hank shrugs but casts him a sidelong glance.
"How about you? Anything?" Nick asks.
"I saw Harper. Surprise, surprise the guy died from evisceration."
"He was alive until his organs were removed?" Nick asks, mind jumping to Geiers.
"Doubtful, whatever forced open his chest was probably enough to put him into shock immediately. But either way she couldn't find anything aside from the fact he's missing his heart. And whoever removed it knew what they were doing."
"So, we've got a professional."
"Yeah, I've been running checks on similar crimes but I've come up with hits all over the country. A lot of them are still unsolved."
While Nick mulls on the Geier theory he makes a few calls to the remaining numbers on his list. The first is Burk's daughter, the clock collector. She's already been contacted so she doesn't talk long, just says her father never did anything to deserve that. The next three prove fruitless, his ex-wife, mother and his friends don't know anything either and have no clue to who might have done it. It crosses Nick's mind that all these people must be Blutbad and that talking to them on the phone is a lot safer than talking to them in person.
He's starting to feel the pointlessness of these calls when the final number, labelled to a Vibora Amante, gets a hit.
"'Ello?" A woman with a Spanish accent answers.
"Hello, this is Detective Burkhardt, Portland PD. Do you know a man named Carver Burks?"
"Um, Yes. This is the police? Has he been arrested?"
"No, he's been murdered."
There's a brief silence before her voice returns.
"I…I might have some information for you but I don't feel comfortable talking about this on the phone. Could you come over to my house?"
"Of course."
"I'll give you the address. It's on 24th Hastings Drive…"
Half an hour later Nick and Hank find themselves at a grey, ramshackle apartment block. They called the landlord in advance so he's waiting for them out front. He leads them up to Amante's apartment.
She invites them in quickly and shuts the door. The small apartment is the colour of concrete. The crumbling walls are so grey they're almost black. It's a cheap, old apartment with strange yellow curtains hanging from the walls.
"Hello, Detectives."
She smiles wanly as she heads for the kitchen, ushering the men to sit down at the table but they prefer to stand.
"Detectives Burkhardt and...?"
"Griffin. We just want to ask a few questions." Hank says
"So, he's really dead?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You said you had information pertaining to him." Hank prods.
She looks up at him and nods her dark head, eyes strangely tawny.
"Yes, it's not much but he said he was worried. He lost two friends to strange accidents only a few weeks ago. He mentioned he was worried about it but said nothing else."
"So he thought he was going to be killed?" Nick says.
She turns to Nick and stares at him through her slim eyes.
"No. He wasn't involved in anything like that but he was just…nervous about the whole circumstances surrounding their deaths. That's all."
"How did they die?"
She pauses, a grimace on her face.
"They were…decapitated."
Hank frowns at that. Nick doesn't.
As Nick is trying to determine if she's telling the truth her black hair suddenly falls away and her lips shrivel into two severe lines. Grey, scaly skin ripples over her face, teeth sharpening to deadly points. Her yellowed eyes widen as she realizes just who's standing in the room with her. Nick recognizes the Lausenschlange characteristics and tries to hide his surprise at her sudden transformation. Just as quick it ripples away and she's standing there, stunned. His Geier theory flies out the window as this woman becomes his prime suspect. She doesn't take her eyes off him and neither does Nick.
"When was the last time you saw Mr. Burks?" Hank asks.
It takes every shred of her will power to tear her eyes away from Nick, in doing so she moves around the table, putting some distance and an object between them.
"Three, four days ago."
'And you were just friends?"
"Just friends. We met at a social convention."
"What kind of 'social convention?'" Nick presses.
She gives him a glare, brushing her hair back.
"A party. We stayed in touch."
"Do you know anyone who would threaten his life?"
"Yes."
She pointedly looks at Nick.
"Who?" Hank prompts, not missing her look.
She looks around, like she's making sure no one is listening.
"There have been a lot of unusual, unsolved murders in the city lately and it's very disturbing to a lot of people like me who are usually ignored by the justice system. It puts me on edge. I'm worried he's out there and police like you don't know who you're looking for."
Nick almost rolls his eyes. If he had committed the murder maybe he'd be feeling nervous but to him her speech seems like pointless venom. He's so tired of the Grimm hating and the instant blame placed on him the second they see him.
"Don't worry. We've got a whole team working this case. We'll catch them." Hank reassures.
She eyes Nick again and he returns her stare with an equally withering gaze.
"I hope you do.
"Thanks for your time."
Hank leaves first, slipping out the door and Nick hurries to follow him but just before he can get outside she lashes out, grabbing him by the collar with surprisingly strong arms.
"You killed him!" She spits in a vehement whisper. "He didn't do anything! And you killed him!"
He looses her grip on him and steps back, afraid she might go further even with Hank only a few feet away.
"I didn't kill him. I'm only trying to find out who did."
She doesn't believe a word of it and huffs dangerously, eyes drilling lasers in him.
"If you dare come after me I'll strangle you!"
She slams the door and flips the bolts.
Did she say she would strangle him? He recalls the information on Lausenschlange in the books. They're snakes, they suffocate their prey. Would one rip someone apart given the right circumstances? He'll have to ask Monroe.
Nick quickly files away the though and joins his partner down the hall.
"What was that about?"
Nick shrugs, no valid excuse leaping to mind.
"Did you see the way she was looking at you? She looked like she expected you to leap across the table."
"It was hard to miss."
In the past Hank had never commented on some of the odd reactions Nick got in questionings even though he had to have noticed them. But it appears the number of angry and afraid glares is piling up and too large for him to ignore or brush off anymore. Which isn't good, it means his secret life is getting a little too obvious.
Nick thinks about all his problems, problems with being a Grimm, with Juliette, with Wesen, with Reapers, with keeping his life somewhat balanced and what he can do about all of it. Thankfully, Hank is driving or Nick probably would have caused a car crash the way his focus is absolutely not on the road.
The uneasy silence of a city night is broken by the pounding of fast footsteps on concrete.
The Fuchsbau races up the stairs, heading for the roof. His breath is ragged and laboured as he runs up the steps.
Every other exit is blocked, there's no other escape. This is his last chance.
He bursts through the roof exit and runs across the asphalt like a madman, trying to pick up speed. He can hear beating footsteps behind him and the metal door bang open. The roof is about to end but he's convinced he can jump the chasm to the next building. But the closer he gets the wider the gap grows. He slows to a stop mere metres away from the edge. He peers over and realizes there's no way he can clear the four metre gap without falling to his death six stories below. The footsteps behind him slow as well and he whirls around.
A man, dark hair blustered by the night breeze, strides up. An axe is clutched loosely in one hand. The dull metal looks tarnished and old in the moonlight, rusted with blood. The man pushes his hair back and stares up at the moon. It's bright like a silver coin that lights up the whole city under its harsh glow. He looks casual, relaxed, as if he hasn't chased a man all over a building with an axe.
"It's a lovely night."
"Please, please I didn't do anything." The Fuchsbau pleads.
"That's a lie. You have quite the record. Where's the Grimm?"
"I don't know, I don't know. I haven't seen him."
"They made it quite clear you had seen him." The man says calmly.
"He's a cop. That's all I know. I haven't seen him for months. I don't know where he is!" His voice is near hysterical and panicked.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." He quivers.
"So, he's a cop?"
"Yes."
The dark haired man smiles and takes a step forward. The Fuchsbau doesn't notice how close to the edge he is.
"Well, you've been quite helpful. If he is a cop as you say I'm sure he'll receive my message."
He smiles in a friendly manner but it's the look of a psycho with the axe glinting dully in his hand. He raises the blunt weapon above his head with that look hidden quietly in his eyes. The Fuchsbau is about to scream when the axe comes down on top of him.
TBC