The Scene Before That - Cutting to the Heart of the Matter
"Well, the cause of death is fairly obvious."
Detective Crispus Allen stared down at the corpse with a look of slight distaste. The victim was lying on the only bed in this small, shabby apartment, eyes staring upwards and one hand flopped casually over the side of the bed. The expression on his face was almost…contented, his lips curled into what was nearly a smile. He would have looked almost peaceful, were it not for the multiple stab wounds in his chest. Behind Allen a few local police discreetly worked on the crime scene, taping off and searching the apartment.
Detective Renee Montoya gave him a look. "Nice to know that your detective skills are still going strong. Now I'm going to make my own intellectual deduction and say that the bloodied dagger lying on the floor next to the bed is probably the murder weapon."
"Very sharp."
"I'm a finely honed detecting machine. How about we cut the cruddy banter now and start trying to solve this thing?" She raised an eyebrow to her partner and he gave her an annoyed look.
"I was actually trying to make a serious observation."
"So lets make some more." She leaned forward and carefully studied the apparent murder weapon, being careful not to touch. "Is it me, or does the angle of the guy's hand in relation to the dagger almost make it look like it dropped from his hand onto the floor?"
Over her shoulder, Crispus frowned. "What are you suggesting, that he did this to himself? There are at least four stab wounds in his chest, Montoya. I doubt the guy was alive after the first one, never mind after four."
"Okay, so maybe the murderer put the knife in this guy's hand after the murder. Tried to place the knife in the victim's grip, couldn't quite get it, and both the hand and blade fell."
"Could be, but I've got to wonder why the perp would even bother. It wouldn't matter what he did, this isn't going to look like suicide."
"Hmm… It's an unusual weapon, too. Weird style of blade…"
"It's a Bundi dagger, Detective." One of the locals, Officer Griffin, had looked up from dusting for fingerprints.
She turned to him. "You know something about it?"
Griffin looked slightly sheepish. "I'm a blade collector. It's a bit of a hobby…"
Allen frowned. "A Bundi dagger. That's an Indian weapon, isn't it?"
"That's right. It's also sometimes known as a Katar. Distinguished by a broad, triangular blade attached to a crossbar handle, so that the blade seems to protrude from the wielder's fists. It can be incredibly lethal when wielded by an experienced fighter…"
Montoya found herself smiling despite herself. "A bit of a hobby?"
He blushed. "Actually quite a lot of a hobby…"
"In that case I'll borrow from your expertise. Would you say that it's a rare blade?"
"Not so much in India and Pakistan, but here? It's definitely not the kind of thing your average guy on the street carries for protection."
"I think we got that." Allen turned to Montoya. "You thinking this could involve Gotham's Indian community?"
"Could be, although he doesn't look Indian. About as far from it as you can get. Could be some guy who wanted something different in the way of weapons. Could be a collector, like Griffin here. Could be any number of things."
"We can narrow down the most likely possibilities, howev…"
"Oh shit!"
The other local officer had been searching through the apartments meagre furniture. Now he was staring into the closet with a look of disbelief.
The partners hurried over.
The closet was as shabby as the rest of the apartment. The front held a small assortment of cheapish clothes. The back… The back held a costume.
"I was just feeling around in there when I realised it had a false back! I didn't expect… Geez, do you recognise it?"
Allen frowned. "I don't."
"I think I might." Montoya was wincing, flicking her gaze back between the dead man and the costume, as though trying to confirm something in her own mind. "I think this guy… Damn!"
"You think you recognise the suit?"
"I think he might be an ally of the Bat."
Allen rubbed his temples. He was beginning to get a headache.
"Well, that's just great."
***
"Well, the cause of death is fairly obvious."
Detective Crispus Allen stared down at the corpse with a look of slight distaste. The victim was lying on the only bed in this small, shabby apartment, eyes staring upwards and one hand flopped casually over the side of the bed. The expression on his face was almost…contented, his lips curled into what was nearly a smile. He would have looked almost peaceful, were it not for the multiple stab wounds in his chest. Behind Allen a few local police discreetly worked on the crime scene, taping off and searching the apartment.
Detective Renee Montoya gave him a look. "Nice to know that your detective skills are still going strong. Now I'm going to make my own intellectual deduction and say that the bloodied dagger lying on the floor next to the bed is probably the murder weapon."
"Very sharp."
"I'm a finely honed detecting machine. How about we cut the cruddy banter now and start trying to solve this thing?" She raised an eyebrow to her partner and he gave her an annoyed look.
"I was actually trying to make a serious observation."
"So lets make some more." She leaned forward and carefully studied the apparent murder weapon, being careful not to touch. "Is it me, or does the angle of the guy's hand in relation to the dagger almost make it look like it dropped from his hand onto the floor?"
Over her shoulder, Crispus frowned. "What are you suggesting, that he did this to himself? There are at least four stab wounds in his chest, Montoya. I doubt the guy was alive after the first one, never mind after four."
"Okay, so maybe the murderer put the knife in this guy's hand after the murder. Tried to place the knife in the victim's grip, couldn't quite get it, and both the hand and blade fell."
"Could be, but I've got to wonder why the perp would even bother. It wouldn't matter what he did, this isn't going to look like suicide."
"Hmm… It's an unusual weapon, too. Weird style of blade…"
"It's a Bundi dagger, Detective." One of the locals, Officer Griffin, had looked up from dusting for fingerprints.
She turned to him. "You know something about it?"
Griffin looked slightly sheepish. "I'm a blade collector. It's a bit of a hobby…"
Allen frowned. "A Bundi dagger. That's an Indian weapon, isn't it?"
"That's right. It's also sometimes known as a Katar. Distinguished by a broad, triangular blade attached to a crossbar handle, so that the blade seems to protrude from the wielder's fists. It can be incredibly lethal when wielded by an experienced fighter…"
Montoya found herself smiling despite herself. "A bit of a hobby?"
He blushed. "Actually quite a lot of a hobby…"
"In that case I'll borrow from your expertise. Would you say that it's a rare blade?"
"Not so much in India and Pakistan, but here? It's definitely not the kind of thing your average guy on the street carries for protection."
"I think we got that." Allen turned to Montoya. "You thinking this could involve Gotham's Indian community?"
"Could be, although he doesn't look Indian. About as far from it as you can get. Could be some guy who wanted something different in the way of weapons. Could be a collector, like Griffin here. Could be any number of things."
"We can narrow down the most likely possibilities, howev…"
"Oh shit!"
The other local officer had been searching through the apartments meagre furniture. Now he was staring into the closet with a look of disbelief.
The partners hurried over.
The closet was as shabby as the rest of the apartment. The front held a small assortment of cheapish clothes. The back… The back held a costume.
"I was just feeling around in there when I realised it had a false back! I didn't expect… Geez, do you recognise it?"
Allen frowned. "I don't."
"I think I might." Montoya was wincing, flicking her gaze back between the dead man and the costume, as though trying to confirm something in her own mind. "I think this guy… Damn!"
"You think you recognise the suit?"
"I think he might be an ally of the Bat."
Allen rubbed his temples. He was beginning to get a headache.
"Well, that's just great."
***