The police officer at the door nodded, lifting the crime scene tape, as he admitted Detectives Mills and Jackson into the scene. It was five in the morning; the police were called by a neighbor who was irritated by the loud noises coming from the apartment. The police had responded and immediately called Mills and Jackson, as well as the coroner.
"This is an odd one," said the officer that met them three feet into the scene. "It's more bizarre than any of the other ones, from this case or the one a year ago."
Chriseyda followed David into the room and stopped in shock. The scene was indeed more bizarre than any of the other ones. Instead of being incredibly messy, it was noisy. The treadmill in the middle of the empty room was still on full speed and the body was dragging on the rolling tread. One of her hands was tied to the handlebars with metal wiring, which was cutting into her wrist and dropping blood onto the sweat panel of the machine. There was a bucket beside the treadmill, filled with vomit, as well as vomit splashed on the floor all around it. The woman was dripping with sweat and there were food and empty wrappers all around her.
"What happened here?" demanded David as the coroner stepped away from the body. The officers turned the machine off after they finished with the pictures and fingerprint gathering. Chriseyda had snapped on a pair of gloves and was walking around the room, trying to find anything that might help. She was snapping pictures of random things, so that if they missed anything they'd have references to look back at.
"Well," said the coroner. "It's definitely one of the strangest cases I've ever seen. Initial guess: she was fed while she was running. The machine was set to an extremely fast speed. She was probably fed constantly and, obviously, given no rest. She was both fed to death and worked to death. Probably died of heart failure. Until I can examine her more fully, that's all I can tell you."
"Detective Mills," said Chriseyda. "Look at this." She was snapping off pictures, when David walked up behind her. "Gluttony," she said finally. "Written in the ketchup and mustard from off a burger it looks like." She took a few more pictures for evidence and then took a swab of the material. She took a smear with her finger and smelled it. "Yeah," she cringed. "It's definitely burger grease and condiments. It's a familiar smell, but I can't place it right off."
"Why is it familiar?" asked David. "Don't all burger places smell the same?"
"I'm not sure," she said looking over her shoulder at him. "It's the smell of a place I've been to several times. Every place has a different smell. I'm just not sure which one this is. Maybe you can place it."
He took a whiff of the grease. "It is familiar," he agreed. "I can't place it either, but I have been there many times. Get it back to the lab for analysis. Make sure they know we need the results ASAP."
"Alright," said Chriseyda. "I'll do it myself."
"Hello?"
"Detective Mills, the pictures are ready. Whenever you get back, I'll be in my office."
"I'll be there in ten minutes," said David. "Then we can go to the coroners together and get her take on the situation."
David walked into her office eight minutes later, looking tired. He plopped down on a chair next to her desk.
"What have you got for me?"
"Well," she said with a sigh as she sat back and grabbed a sheet of paper off her desk. "Here's the break down on the grease from the burger. The finest meat brought here from Texas' best cattle ranches. Only two places around where the vic lives carries that kind of meat. And one of them is the place I've been to. We can go there and the other place and ask about who might have ordered a lot of burgers in either all at once or in two trips."
"And the pictures?" he asked.
"I had some of them enlarged to see writing more clearly, but I can't find anything out of place. There was the letter that prompted the woman to the apartment where she died. It was a letter, asking her to be part of a new diet and exercise program. She was promised to be paid fifty dollars per pound that she could shed in a one-month interval. She was lured in by the money."
"So other than the letter and the burger joints, we have nothing?" asked David.
"I'm not sure," said Chriseyda. "I've had the letter sent out for analysis; hair, fiber, fingerprints, the works. It should be back in about an hour."
"So why don't we go and see what the coroner has to say about our DB?" asked David. "She put a rush on it."
Chriseyda nodded and followed him out of the office.
Standing in the coroner's lab, looking at the mutilated body of the victim, Chriseyda and David looked at each other and sighed- so far, this case sucked majorly.
"Well," said the coroner. "This is also added to my list of the strangest cases I've ever seen. As I said initially, this woman was stuffed and then forced to run while she was continuously being fed. She threw up at least four times, but it didn't stop the killer. He just kept feeding her. I'd dare say that she was fed at least four-dozen burgers, probably more.
"It's obvious that she had not had much strenuous exercise for quite a while, and that's partially what killed her. She died of cardiac arrest. Judging from the size of her stomach, the swelling of the throat, and the stretch marks on the skin, she wasn't tortured very long. I would judge about two hours, three tops, before her heart finally gave out on her. Plus she was dead for about nineteen hours before you found her. That puts the beginning of the torture party at between nine and two yesterday afternoon."
"That's all?" asked David. "Nothing you found on the body?"
"No," said the coroner shaking her head. "I'm sorry Detective Mills. It's exactly the same as the other two."
"Don't worry about it," said David absently. "We're coming up empty everywhere we turn on this case. It's got to change sometime though, right?"
"Let's hope," said Chriseyda quietly from his side. "For all our sakes."
"Thank you doctor," he said nodding to the coroner and then turned and left without another word. Chriseyda nodded her thanks to the coroner and then followed him.
"You're welcome," said the coroner after them and then stored the body in the freezer bay.
"I'm sorry Detectives," said the young manager of the burger joint. "Yesterday was one of the busiest days we've had in about a month."
"Well," said David. "Did anyone come in more than one time? Ordering dozens of burgers, probably about six dozen all together?"
"Yeah there was one guy," said the manager. "I thought maybe he was just throwing a party of one kind or another. This guy came in, real skittish, and ordered three-dozen burgers with ketchup and mustard. About an hour later he came in and ordered another three dozen burgers."
"Anything distinguishing about this guy?" asked David.
"He paid with a credit card both times," said the manager. "I'll go get the recipes for you."
"Thank you," said David. They waited for a few moments and then the guy came back with the receipts. "We'll get these back to you as soon as possible."
"No need," said the manager, shaking his head and holding up his hands, palms facing them. "Those are copies, you can keep them."
"Thanks," said David with a nod as he stashed the receipts in his pocket. He and Chriseyda turned and left the burger joint.
"Time to run a name and record search, huh?" asked Chriseyda as she sat down and swung her legs into the passenger side of David's car.
"Absolutely," said David. "This is the first break we've had. I know we won't find the actual guy, but we are one step closer. In fact, the guy who got the burgers is probably already dead, but we are one step closer."