The girl looked up into the heavens. I wonder what she saw there. Did she see the clouds, the sun, starlit skies and thunderous storms? Did she soar above them all on wings of freedom? Or would she simply gaze at the cold hard metal of Rapture, and the cold unending sea beyond?
She had two smiles, one pert and slightly parted with a little too much lipstick, the other ragged and bloody, just under her chin. Around her head blood pooled into a crimson halo, slowly being eroded away by a small leak in the wall.
She was a pretty girl, green dress and a bit dolled up. Sixteen years old, seventeen at the oldest. Some father's lost his little girl tonight.
"So, Tom, what do we have?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the woman's hands.
"We don't have anything, DeWitt. You have a case," Thomas said, "I'm not keeping my boys in this shit hole any longer then I have to."
Thomas Mast was a sergeant in the security forces. Clean shaven and short, he had a temper on him that could frighten a lion if he got riled up. He wasn't in a good mood.
"Well what do you have on the girl?"
"Exactly what you see in front of you," I stared at the man as he walked away. What crawled up his backside?
I sigh and kneel down next to the girl. No purse on her and her dress didn't have any pockets or places to hide things. Robbery maybe? Clearly the cause of death was the slit throat but if she was robbed why kill her?
"Tom being hard on you too?"
The voice was familiar. I looked up into the small face of Abigail Williams. Abby she liked to be called. Fancied herself a reporter, liked to follow the police around to get her stories. To hear the security guys tell it she was a bit of a badge bunny.
"Yeah, he's not really giving me much to work on here," I said, getting up, "And I can only hope he or his boys didn't just decide to walk off with anything."
"What's the matter, old man losing his edge?" Abby smiled like a cat with its cream.
"I'm not that old, Abby."
"Oh it's alright Mister DeWitt," she wrote something down on her little pad, "Some girls like an older man"
Abigail was a bit short, with good set of wide hips and narrow shoulders and not much else going for her upstairs. She could saunter like a champ though and not many girls looked as good as her in a pencil skirt. It was always nice to see her and always enjoyable to watch her leave. I never got her age, but she was probably eighteen or so. Probably.
I grinned to myself, and looked back at the body, "Well then maybe you could tell me if she did?"
The girl smiled and flipped back through her book, "Tommy told me the girl was found by a group of girls from the orphanage. When they talked to her she kept on asking about the angel, so that's what they've been calling her."
"Did they get anything else out of her? She see anything strange before hand?"
"The only strange thing about her was how happy she was to see the girl. I know what you're thinking Booker but they weren't related, the little girl was from a worker home originally and that dress 'Angel' is wearing was in the window in Mason's Textiles and Tailor's for 50 dollars last week."
"That's why I like you, Abby. You've got a mind for important things," I said scratching my wrist, "So streaks or smudges, other than those left by our friendly security men, so she was killed here. And since we've still got blood around with that leak it was recent. Whoever did it could easily still be around here," I felt I should put on a hat, but I'd never gotten around to getting one. I ran my fingers through my hair, "It was nice seeing you Abby, be a good girl and call the doctors for this, I don't think our angel here will be able to tell us much more." I started down the alley to the main walk of the block.
"They've already been called, Booker," she said catching up with me and putting her arms around mine own, "and besides, I'm going with you."
"You are, are you?"
"I need another story, and I don't think I've written one about a roguish detective keeping the people or Rapture safe," she said it as if she knew there was a bed nearby.
I guess she decided it was my turn for a ride.
Abigail was better at this then I figured. Her stories in the papers were generally rather vapid and short, not really explaining what happened, who did it, or even why or what happened to the criminals. She was currently interviewing home owners nearest where the girl was found. While most of the people in Rapture never had much to do with Ryan's grand vision, they still felt wary of anyone looking around with a badge, but a cute girl with wavy brown hair? Abby could probably get them to talk about anything. We'd been at this since noon.
Abigail came around the corner whistling a tune to herself, pencil twirling in her fingers and grinning ear to ear.
"Well? Anything?" in the three hours we'd been at this all we'd gotten were some dead leads and people thinking she was like Johnny Topside. At least a few people had the wherewithal to remember some screaming in the night.
"You're going to owe me a drink for this. Last night she was seen with a boy, Damien," she tapped her notebook as though it was the dispenser of truth, "He doesn't live around here but Dr. Steinman's hired him on in the Medical Pavilion." If it was at all possible the girls grin got wider.
"Then we're headed down town, I suppose."
The bathysphere ride could have gone better, Abby clearly had some necking in mind, but I couldn't help but think of that girl in a pool of her own blood. Don't get me wrong, a fight riles me up like any other man, but the girl was so young, something about it just stuck in my mind.
The Medical Pavilion was one of the places I tried to avoid. Tile floors everywhere, half the doctors and nurses covered in blood. Reminds you of triage and camp hospitals and beds filled with boys that were too damn young. The walls were plastered with Steinman's ads for better faces and better lives. Don't trust a man that can remake a face, just because the wrappers any different doesn't make the food any less rotten.
Steinman, it seemed, wasn't busy. He saw us in his office almost as soon as we arrived. A posh little place, and with even more of his cosmetics posters, they damn near buried his doctorates. The biggest feature of the room was his massive green felt topped desk, behind it a large desk chair, with two smaller chairs on the other side for patients.
"How can I help the lovely couple then?" he said lounging into his desk chair. The man had files and papers all over the desk, and most garish of all a skull replica as a paper weight. I hoped it was a replica. You could never tell with these medical types. I let the couple comment slide.
"I'm Booker DeWitt, a detective, and this is Abigail. Doctor, do you know a boy by the name of Damien?" The man looked up into the lights, pursing his lips a bit.
"I think… I… Ah yes yes, Damien! Bright lad, took to the job like a duck to… well, whatever ducks go to. What about him?" he was bright eyes and smiled.
"I'm looking for him," I said, as matter of fact as I could manage.
"We think he might know something about a murder" Abby said next to me.
"A murder? Damien? The boy's good at the craft but when he first started he could barely stand the sight of blood. How's he supposed to murder someone?"
"Very bloodily, I'd say," I said back. Steinman looked from each of us when we talked, but while he looked at Abigail in a rather general way, he seemed to be focused on me, eyes just above my own eye line. The hell was he staring at? "What does Damien do here, exactly?"
"He's an intern, I suppose you could say. Did poorly with all the general things, but once I got a bit of my sculpting plasmid in him and showed him how to use the tonics he was a natural for cosmetics," the doctor twiddled his thumbs around and around, and glanced at Abigail, "Maybe you've seen Clovette's theater show, miss? Damien did her up for it. Almost like Aphrodite herself that one. Not as good as he could have done, but very promising with some more practice."
Abby said she hadn't seen it, but she would be sure to check on it, and made another little note in her book.
"Do you know where he lives, Doctor? I would like to speak to him," he turned back to me, and again with the stare.
"Yes yes. Apollo Square I think. Let me find his address, it's in here somewhere."
The man rummaged through the papers on his desk, then through his drawers. Abby and I shared a glance; clearly she felt he was bonkers as well. As he talked to himself I couldn't help but notice Frank Fontaine's name on some of the papers. Hah, maybe he was finally going to get around to getting some hair back on that dome of his.
"Here it is!" he pulled out a beat up leather wallet fat with paper. When he opened it he again, rummaged until he found a slip with, presumably, Damien's address. Ha handed it over with a cheery grin. "Is there anything else?"
"No, thank you. Well actually, could we see where he worked? Did Damien have an office or anything?" I looked at the paper, Apollo Square, Hermes' Hostel room 14.
The man laughed, "Interns don't have offices detective. Damien had a locker with the other students here. You'll have to look down there. If you go out and head for the main lobby, it will be the third door before you enter the lobby itself."
"Thank you very much Doctor Steinman" Abby said as I got up, the good doctor was out of the chair faster then I'd think he could move, and shaking my hand.
"Always good to help the people that keep our fair Rapture safe," the grin had gone glassy, "You know, Mister DeWitt, I could very easily take care of that nasty scar, a simple rejuvenation tonic would do wonders for you"
With some doing I yanked my hand away. The doctor's grip was like a vice, "No, er... thanks, I like my face the way it is."
Steinman's face twitched ever so slightly, "Suit yourself, detective."
The locker room for the interns and students and nurses was nearly empty, just a large gleaming white room with grey lockers lined up like soldiers. Abby and I went down the rows of lockers, ignoring the few people changing into those hospital uniforms they're always so keen on. I couldn't help but notice Abigail's wandering eyes. Damien's locker was at the very end of the second row and it seemed he was rather trusting, he didn't even have a lock.
I pulled it open, inside hung a pair of pants and a button up shirt, brown and green. I glanced at Abby, and caught her staring at some of the other occupants in the locker room, "Abby, do you… Abby? Abigail!"
"Yes! What?"
"Maybe you'd like to go ask around about Damien?" I suggested, might as well put her attention to some good use. The girl nodded and scampered off, a kid in a candy store.
There were shoes at the bottom of the locker as well, some smattering of dirt and mud on them, along with a slight bit of rust too. Going through the pockets I found some crumpled receipts and a used ticket for the Express, along with two for a carousel. Nothing in the shirt pockets, but in the little cubby at the top was a note from a Madeline saying she'd love to go for a date.
Hello 'Angel'
I stood back from the locker, staring at it, but my mind was back at the alleyway.
So Damien asks the girl, Madeline maybe, out. They head over to where, Dionysus Park? I don't know of many other carousels around, maybe Ryan Amusements? Either way, they go ride around about, probably have a good time. Then, coming home, they have an argument. Maybe Damien thinks he deserves a bit more than a few laughs or some Bathysphere Bingo, but Maddie doesn't want to go along with it. Still a little extreme to kill the girl over that, but a girl crying rape probably couldn't do much to help a cosmetic surgeon's career.
Without a murder weapon or Damien himself it was a little flimsy, but it was the best I could come up with.
Abigail came back, all smiles, "Well the other boys said they knew Damien."
"And?"
"Well, they said he was sweet on a girl, Madeline. I asked them about our 'Angel' and they said it sounded like her," I showed her the note from Damien's locker.
"That's good, two witnesses and some actual evidence and it looks like we know Maddie's real name now" Abby wrote a few more notes down.
"So where to now, partner?"
I grinned at the comment, I never had a partner before, "We head over to Damien's home and see what we can turn up. Maybe the kid himself will be there and save us a lot of trouble."
It was already five by the time we got to Damien's apartment. The Hermes' Hostel wasn't too far away from my own place, even if in a bit of a poorer part of town. The landlord Mister Garbell let us in.
Steinman's office was a mess, Damien's home was just the opposite, everything in its place, it was almost like he'd never lived there. The place was a two room apartment, one main room and a side room, probably for a bed, though Damien had moved his into the main room.
The boy was nowhere to be seen. Well can't have too much luck, now can we? "Alright, Abby, let's take a look around."
He had a cheap desk against the wall at the foot of the bed, medical books rose like a tiny city all across it, all surrounding a city square made up by a notebook. Flipping through it, it was a sort of journal, the days were listed longer entries took up a whole page but other times several days were needed. It was just writing on what he'd done that day, or what Steinman had shown him. I flipped through it backwards, past the last few empty pages to his last entry.
'Steinman says that I did good work, but I needed more practice. How can I practice without more patients? He hardly gives me anyone to work on to begin with; the whole situation is starting to irk me.
'My date with Madeline is tonight, hopefully that will take my mind off work.'
More stuff we already knew, though it seems like he was having some trouble at work. Who doesn't.
Other then the various medical books there wasn't much else to the desk. The bed was made, and under it were some magazines and newspapers, mostly with images of pretty girls. Not to uncommon all things considered. Some of the pictures and pages were torn out. I figure it must be for a book for patients to pick their new noses and such from.
Abby was searching along the other side of the room, going through the kid's wardrobe and basin and such. Must not have found much of anything, she didn't make so much as a peep.
Until she opened the door to the side room.
"Uhm… Booker?"
I turned around and got up from in front of the bed. The side room was gloomy but a quick grope around for a light switch brought illumination to the case.
There was another desk in here, and a cork board as well. Several photo's of girls, either from a magazine or paper, or even maybe his own photo's were pinned to the board, cut up and placed together like jigsaw puzzles, their scraps left to rot on the desk below. Some of them had notes on them, circles and arrows pointing out problems. A mole should be removed here, or placed somewhere else. A brow was too high, or lips too low or wide. And in the middle of it all was a single photo of the girl, Madeline the 'Angel' with a scalpel stuck into it, blood along the handle and over the photo.
Damien was a real monster, it was a wonder no one had been killed before.
Abby was writing furiously in her little notebook. I pulled out the scalpel. The blood was dry over it, almost looked like it was rusted. I wrapped it up in a cloth and pocketed it, then grabbed the photo.
"That's all I need to see. Damien's been spending a little too much time in the pavilion, maybe seeing all those people cut up made him go off in the head," Madeline was a clear focus on all of this. Maybe he wanted to make her more beautiful, but she didn't want any part of it. So he gave her a 'ruby necklace' the only way he knew how.
I had to nearly pull Abigail out of the room, she was writing so much. The search had only taken about fifteen minutes, but it was a slightly longer walk to the nearest constabulary.
Mast never did look happy to see me. He looked even less happy when he knew he had to pay me.
"I found out who your man is at the least Mast. I've done all your damn leg work. I should at least get more than half my fee, Tom"
"You didn't even bring in the guy, DeWitt. You don't even have a confession."
"We've got two people confirming he was last seen with the girl, a witness confirming the girl was this 'Madeline' and his own damn handwriting saying he was out with her that night. The bloody photo and his knife in it. He did it Mast."
Thomas was almost as stubborn as I was. Almost.
I walked out of the station with half my normal take. I didn't see Abigail anywhere, must still be inside getting some more notes down.
The boy was still missing but Mast had called up Steinman and told him what I'd found, and asked for him to call security if Damien ever showed up. Mast said Steinman was sure that Damien would get what he deserved if he ever showed up.
Well past eight by the time I'd gotten here, nearly nine now. The station was placed at the back of a domed square from which you could see through the water to the towering structure that was Hephaestus. Fish were swimming above the square, the spot lights shining up made them twinkle. I leaned against a statue of Ryan and looked up into the ocean, a tune playing in my head. Without even knowing it, I started singing under my breath.
"Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you," Birds singing in the sycamore trees. Dream a little dream of me,"
"I didn't know you sang, Booker."
I jerked out of whatever trance I was in, Abby was standing a few feet away, "Oh er... I don't really."
"What song was that?" she asked coming a little closer.
"I don't know," I shrugged, "just something I heard somewhere."
I looked back up into the ocean, the fish had disappeared.
"You did a good job today, Abby." I said absentmindedly.
"Thanks," she laughed as she said it, "You didn't do too bad yourself, old man"
I was going to tell her I wasn't that old again, changed my mind, "How about that drink I owe you, Abby?" I'd give her that story she wanted.
J.S. Steinman walked the halls of the Medical pavilion, a lone figure in the gleaming sterility of the facilities. This late at night they'd need nearly no one on call and no patients would be calling on them. He enjoyed the late nights. It was when he could really think. The only time he could really talk to his muse.
He stepped into his usual surgery room, the pristine white tiles on the floor and walls shined and obliterated any and all shadows around him. Strapped down to the table was his latest patient, and arranged around him all the tools he'd need, rejuvenation tonics, sculpting tools, and the more mundane tools of his medical trade.
Damien stared at him, his eyes wide and wobbling with tears. There was already a stink of urine and feces to him. He was babbling about how it wasn't his fault, "Sh-sh-she didn't want t-to come! She s-screamed! I had no choice!"
"Shh shh shh" Steinman patted the boy's chest, "I told you, Damien. I cannot work without a good canvas. Little Madeline could have been my master work. Aphrodite was sure of it."
"I-I-I didn't see any other way!"
Steinman looked up into the lights; Damien could hear him muttering to himself, at a length he then heard clearly, "Yes… Yes, that's right. Of course…" Steinman looked down, and reached over to one of the many tables of tools around the gurney. He lifted up a small scalpel.
"Be glad, young Damien. The Goddess has told me how I can help you," he patted the young man's cheek, "I'll make sure you can always see…"
Damien couldn't see Steinman's face, covered by his mask like it was, but he could see the manic grin that held his face all the same. He watched as the scalpel came closer and closer. Steinman pulled at the boy's right eye lid and began to remove it.
I laid out on a carpet of clouds, the sun shining warmly as I looked out into the sky before me.
If this wasn't heaven it was near as I was ever going to get.
Around me clouds swirled and shaped themselves into shapes and faces. My mother smiled out at me, tears in her eyes just like when I went off to Europe. A dog jumped through the sky its limbs slowly growing and separating until nothing was left of it.
I wonder why I thought I'd never see the sun again. How could you miss the sun? It comes up every damn day. I watched a cloud that shaped itself into a mushroom slowly change and turn into a rabbit. A low rumbled echoed around me and I turned around. A dark cloud swirled and blew through the air, changing its shapes faster than the other clouds. First a bearded man, then a gun, a horse and a home. Eventually a girl looking almost as if she was spinning, and eventually a face.
I knew that face. Why did she look so sad? She was always so happy…
"Do you know what my favorite line from a book is, Mister DeWitt? 'Loving is a substitute for thinking. Love is a burning forgetfulness of all other things. How shall we ask passion to be logical?'"
I could hear the voice in my head, and when it finished the dark cloud spread about and filled the sky, and I fell. The clouds surrounded me as I plummeted through them, changing into unseen shapes and shouting unheard words. I feel through them and out of them and watched the sky retreat above me.
Below the water spread out from one end of the horizon to the other. I wasn't concerned with falling, or even the water. It was almost as if I'd done it before and knew what would happen.
The water came closer and closer. I felt the cool wetness on my cheek as I came into it.
I opened my eyes and stared out at the ceiling.
"Damn what the hell…"
"mm?" Abigail stirred slightly next to me, her body pressed against mine, she just drifted back to sleep.
I knew that girl, in the dream. I'd seen her before, at that party, the tonic unveiling. I wasn't sure how I knew, but somehow I'd have to find her.