COLD CASE - Chapter 3
Dr. Makurji lived in a suburb south of Las Vegas. The next morning, I took a cab to his home. The good doctor's house was just this side of being a mansion and the neighborhood was more of the same. A middle-aged Mexican maid answered the door and let me in. She led me into the living room full of furniture that looked under-used, and then fetched me a cup of coffee.
"Mr. Dresden?" Dr. Makurji asked after he entered the room. He was formally dressed in a full suit and tie. I got the impression that he was the kind of man who could not imagine meeting another human being dressed otherwise. That's not a put-down. It's just a way of doing things that I don't share and never will.
On the other hand, I had to give Dr. Makurji credit for not being be put off by either my duster or the glove on my left hand.
"Dr. Makurji," I replied. "Thanks for seeing me."
He offered his hand and we shook. He was a wizened and worn-looking man of medium height and his grip struck me as rather frail. There was something undefinable about him that made me worry about his health.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," I said as I carefully released his hand.
He shook his head, "Oh, no, Mr. Dresden. I don't get many callers and I find the idea of talking to a private eye rather exciting. You say you're working for Mary Brandon's sister?"
Brandon had been Mrs. Winfield's maiden name. She had given me permission to identify her while I was doing the investigation. People are more inclined to cooperate with a P.I. who's helping a woman find out what happened to a dead sister than they are with a P.I. who's just asking irritating questions.
"Yes."
Dr. Makurji settled into an easy chair as his maid wordlessly put a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. "I'm happy to help. Ask your questions."
"Just let me confirm what the record has to say about the Skorzeny murders..."
"Four known deaths," Dr. Makurji broke in, his voice suddenly firm and authoritative. "All young, attractive, healthy, Caucasian women who were also casino employees. Their throat's were torn open. The trauma was reminiscent of the kind of damage that a large canine might inflict. Human saliva not belonging to the victims were found in the wounds in all four cases. I tried to blood-type the saliva, but other than the fact it was human I couldn't get a definite match. There was some bruising of the arms and upper bodies consistent with the victims being restrained by a person of considerable strength, but there were no ligature marks. All blood had been drained from the bodies by what I can only assume was a mechanical process, since none was found on or near the bodies. One victim had minor traces of recreational drugs in her system. The others did not. There were no signs of sexual assault."
Then Dr. Makurji hesitated and continued on awkwardly, "You may assure Mrs. Winfield that her sister's death was quick."
I looked Dr. Makurji in the eye, "Is that true, Dr. Makurji?"
The doctor looked back at me and something went out of him. He sighed and said, "Yes it is, Mr. Dresden. But there's not point in telling Mrs. Winfield that her sister and the other women died in fear and pain like hunted animals. Yes, their deaths were relatively swift, but..."
He ground to a halt. Then Dr. Makurji sighed again and continued.
"Skorzeny also killed a hospital orderly and two police officers, but those weren't at all like what happened to those women. The orderly was killed when he was thrown out of fourth story window. One police officer died of a broken neck. Another from a fractured skull that resulted in severe cerebral hemorrhaging. The latter two injuries were inflicted bare-handed. Skorzeny was incredibly powerful."
The doctor picked up his coffee and took a tentative sip.
"You said the female victims' throats were torn open by something like a dog bite?"
"Yes."
"So... we're talking something like fangs?"
The doctor hesitated, "I don't like to use that word. Too many people begin drawing wild conclusions. But... yes. Fangs."
"Did you ever come up with a theory as to how Skorzeny killed the women?" I asked, keeping my words as neutral as possible.
"Several. It's possible that he had some kind of device with fang-like protrusions that could compress in a manner similar to the closing of jaws. Or perhaps he had a fanged prosthetic that he fitted into his mouth. Given the human saliva found in the injuries the latter is actually more likely. After they killed Skorzeny, I told the police to keep an eye open for something like that when they were searching his house. They didn't find anything. I also suggested they look for some sort of suction and storage device that he used to drain the blood. Likewise, they found nothing."
"There wasn't an autopsy of Skorzeny?"
Dr. Makurji's eyes flashed irritably. "No, there was not. He was cremated so quickly that I never even saw his body."
"Look, Doc, I'm sorry to bring this up... but the victims were also cremated. And without the permission of their families. The settlement with the families put the blame on your office."
Dr. Makurji set his coffee cup down with a decisive thump. Some coffee sloshed onto the table.
"That is a lie! The error came from within the police department! Skorzeny's body never even entered my morgue. And his victims were removed at night and without my authorization. If I had been present I would have stopped that immediately!"
I held up my hands in surrender, "Easy, doc. So you were the fall guy for a police screw-up?"
"Absolutely! They even wanted to fire a completely blameless member of my staff! I'll have you know that I put an immediate end to that nonsense!"
I chuckled, picked up my coffee, and lifted it towards Dr. Makurji in salute. "Good for you, doc. Good for you. I've seen too many foul-ups hidden by blaming whoever happened to be the lowest guy on the totem pole."
Dr. Makurji took a deep breath. Then another one. Never piss of a man of Dr. Makurji's precision and devotion to procedure. I suspect he was a pain-in-the-ass to the police department from the moment they accused him of incompetence until the day he retired.
I didn't see any point in telling the doctor that the cops were probably right to burn all of the corpses as soon as possible. In fact, they should have burned the victims even sooner than they did.
I got out my chair and walked over to the living room's fireplace.
"Interesting weapon," I said thoughtfully.
A crossbow was displayed just above the mantle-piece. There were also several large crosses on the mantlepiece itself, essentially flanking the crossbow. The crosses looked like valuable antiques. If anyone entered the living room, the crosses would immediately be in their line of sight.
Dr. Makurji stood next to me and smiled distantly. "Every man is allowed an eccentric hobby, Mr. Dresden. Target shooting with crossbows is mine."
"I see you keep it loaded."
There was a slight pause as Dr. Makurji examined me closer. "You are familiar with crossbows?"
"I know some people who are into ancient weapons," I said blandly.
"I keep the weapon loaded in case of a home invasion. I check the tension of the string every now and then and replace it in case of wear."
"Most people would keep a gun around for home defense."
"I also own several firearms, but I'm wary of keeping guns in the open."
"So how long have you been shooting crossbows?"
Dr. Makurji shifted uncomfortably. "Quite a few years."
I couldn't help myself. I grinned at Dr. Makurji and said, "Let me guess. Ever since 1970?"
"I don't recall exactly," said the man who obviously never forgot anything.
"Dr. Makurji, have you ever met Shelley Forbes?"
He frowned, "The woman the police rescued from Skorzeny? No. Why do you ask?"
"She was in Skorzeny's hands for several days. But there isn't much in the official record about her."
"1970 was a different time, Mr. Dresden. A woman held captive by a man like Skorzeny was treated with more deference than would be the case today. Since Skorzeny was dead, her testimony wasn't particularly needed. I imagine she was questioned to establish certain basic facts and then left alone. Perhaps you should ask Sergeant Sykes."
"Sykes?" I repeated automatically. That name wasn't in the files.
Dr. Makurji nodded. "Sergeant Sykes was a young patrol officer back in 1970. He was involved in that fight with Skorzeny in which the other two police officers were killed. As far as I know, he's the last policeman still in service from that time. He has always had an interest in the Skorzeny case."
I said my goodbyes to Dr. Makurji and he encouraged me to call again if I had more questions. It was obvious that the man was sincere. I suspect retirement wasn't sitting too well with him.
Back in the hotel room, Bob and I went over what I'd learned.
"So the doc was pretty sure that the perp had fangs?" Bob asked thoughtfully.
"Yep," I replied, "which means Skorzeny wasn't Black Court. They don't have fangs."
"But Red Court vamps do," Bob pointed out. "Did you get a good look at the bolt in the Doc's crossbow?"
"It was a sharpened wooden dowel with some minimal fletching. It looked handmade. You could smell the garlic oil that it had been soaked in. There was a small case on the mantlepiece that was the right size to hold maybe a half-dozen more bolts."
"And the crosses?" Bob asked.
"Old, large, and heavy looking. Definitely antiques. Judging by the iconography, probably Spanish in origin."
"So if somebody of the blood-sucking persuasion were to get in the house, the doc could fall back to the fireplace. The crosses would hopefully make the vamp hesitate while the doc made a grab for his crossbow." Bob sounded as if he grudgingly approved.
"I think that's the idea," I replied.
"All of that would help against a Black Court vampire," Bob pointed out, "but it would be a lot less useful against a Red Court vampire. Did you notice any other anti-vampire defenses?"
"The maid was wearing a silver cross on a necklace. But that might just be her own. Of course, I didn't see the rest of the house. I'm thinking Doc Makurji figured it out back in 1970 and he's been a little nervous about sundown ever since. But I don't think the Doc is really in-the-know. He's just be going with Stoker on this one - not realizing that he might have the details wrong."
"That sounds right. So what's next?"
"Sergeant Sykes."
