III: Uri's Family Jewels
Kenny
"So, what're we gonna do with the body?" Kenny asked, boots echoing on the stone steps. The kerosene in his lamp burned brightly, but outside of their pool of light, inky darkness pressed in on all sides.
"Investigate it, of course. A corpse holds much information for those who know how to search for it," Laurens replied.
The air grew cooler with each step, stagnating, carrying the first notes of death and decay. Reaching the bottom of the steps, he saw the room opening up to either side to form what he suspected to be a large cavern.
"This way Mr. Ackerman, they will have the body laid out for us."
"Call me Kenny."
"That's highly unusual. I don't think I can recall the last time I called a man by his first name," Laurens replied. He led the way into the darkness, and Kenny saw that alcoves had been carved into the walls, some containing bodies while others were empty.
"Not everyone would agree that I'm a man, so that's fine."
They passed beneath an archway and stepped into a large, circular room with a stone table at its centre. A body lay beneath a white sheet on the table, and a nearby bench held a basin for water, tools, and various bottles whose liquid contents were of a nature unknown to Kenny.
"Nice place ya got here, but how're we gonna see shit of what we're doin'?"
Laurens removed his jacket, placing it upon one of the hooks on the wall. He loosened his neck tie, and proceeded to pour water into the basin.
"You see that lever there, Mr. Ackerman? Turn it, and I believe your question will be answered."
Kenny turned the lever, and somewhere above a hatch opened, sending a shaft of light spearing through the darkness.
"Neat trick," Kenny commented.
"Indeed, but we must make certain to close it once we are done, or the temperature will climb too high. Please, remove the sheet from our victim."
Laurens worked a bar of soap over his hands and arms up to the elbow, before rinsing off the thick lather.
"Why're ya washing your hands? Doubt he'll give a shit either way." Kenny nodded to the body. Absent the sheet, he saw it was clean and pale, its bluish skin as smooth as marble. Beneath the airy smell of soap whispered the first breaths of decay, reminiscent of fruit turning brown and slimy.
"It is to prevent contamination of the body."
Wouldn't have thought it'd be a big deal. Not like the guy's gonna catch a cold.
"If ya say so." The doc could dress the corpse up in silks and call it his uncle for all Kenny cared.
Laurens eyed their stiffer from head to toe, humming like he had discovered something interesting. He seemed comfortable with the sight of dead bodies. It was interesting, because from the look of him, Kenny would have wagered the doc would be a spewer. Always the little ones that surprise you.
The doc picked up a pair of tweezers and positioned himself by the dead man's head.
"Let us begin the examination. My method is to start at the crown of the head and then proceed downwards. Each part of the body must be carefully inspected, trace evidence collected, and all findings thoroughly recorded. Once this is done, we can attempt to form a theory as to what has happened to this man, and why."
"Easy—he pissed someone off and they cut his throat."
"That may very well be so, but your theory does not offer any hint as to the "who" in this case. By coming to a conclusion too soon, you also run the risk of becoming prejudiced, in which case you might overlook important evidence that contradicts your preconceived notions."
Kenny shrugged. "Guess we'll see who's right. Do your thing Doc."
"Very well." But he paused like he had only just remembered something. "Mr. Acker- Kenny—why do they say you are an animal?"
Bit of an insult to animals if ya ask me, but I guess their imaginations only extend that far.
The body had traces of some kind of white powder in its hair. He leaned in closer. This had to be that "trace evidence" stuff the doc had mentioned. It was faintly pearlescent where it caught the light and the smell was bitter, like mugwort or wormwood.
"Ya heard of someone called The Ripper? Stupid name, I know, but considerin' how many MP's I killed they had to come up with somethin'."
The tweezers fell from the doc's hand, clattering loudly against the stone.
"Oh sweet Maria," he said, the colour draining from his face. He smoothed his hair with nervous fingers and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again when no words came. Muttering a curse, he picked the tweezers off the floor and returned to the basin. There he soaped and rinsed the tool, and his fingers, once more.
"Well…" Laurens said and tried to push his glasses up with the same hand that held the tweezers, almost poking himself in the eye in the process. "It is becoming clear why you were assigned to this case. Your uh, expertise might prove invaluable."
"Ya said to start with the head," Kenny said and pointed. "There's some powdery stuff in his hair."
"Oh yes, the hair. Allow me to collect a sample." On the table sat a small leather case. Laurens undid the clasp and unfolded the flap, revealing that the inside was filled with glass sample tubes. He plucked one from the back and removed the cork stopper, before bending over Joachim von Rohr and scraping at the powdery substance with the tweezers. "At first I thought it could be anything—flour, chalk, powdered bone, or dust, but look here. These tiny crystals are typically the product of some alchemical compound."
"There's some on his forehead and left cheek too. More crusted around his nose. It's probably coderoin, Mitras is full of codeheads."
The doc tut-tutted, stabbing the air with his finger.
"Let's not be hasty. First we sample the crystals around the victim's nose… There— now we compare the substance found in his hair with that found around his nose."
He held the two sample tubes up towards the light, studying them. Then, without a word, he handed them to Kenny.
"Look identical to me."
The doc cleared his throat. "I agree, but let us investigate further before we make any judgement." He shoved the tweezers up one of the corpse's nostrils and bent over, peering into it.
"Find anythin' interesting in there?"
"Habitual use of coderoin, through ingestion or inhalation, marks the body in certain ways. It is a fair assumption that the substance was administered through the nose in this case. If young master von Rohr here is a habitual user of coderoin, the soft membranes inside his nose should show signs of corrosion, perhaps open lacerations, and possibly partial necrosis."
Kenny flashed a toothy grin. Perhaps the doc had some substance after all."Startin' to think there's a point to this whole examination business."
The doc leaned his head this way and that, his face moving closer and closer to the distended nostril.
"I see no damage to indicate regular or long-term use of any harmful substance, but there is some slight irritation of the mucous membrane which could support your theory of coderoin inhalation. I suppose we must ask ourselves whether, in this particular case, it was used recreationally."
Kenny looked at the corpse's face, where the smudge across the cheek arched out in a feathery, crescent shape, while there was only a light dusting of powder over the brow, forehead and hair. Truth was, plenty of Mitran scum were well-powdered.
This one did a poor job of sniffin' it, though. Not like ya can misswhen all ya need to do is bend, aim and inhale. And even if ya miss a bit, how does it fly up into your face? Unless…
"I think he might've been lyin' down. Let's say he wasn't into the idea of taking the stuff. That smear could be from him shaking his head back and forth while someone tried to force it up his nose."
"Interesting. Indeed, I think you might be right, it could be so. Look here," the doc said. Wedging his fingers in between the corpse's teeth, Laurens forced the jaw open. "There are traces of powder on the inside of his lower lip, as well as some redness around the uvula and soft palate, but no deterioration of the tissue to indicate habitual ingestion."
"Might've eaten some by accident then."
"Possibly. Let us move on to the throat. I believe you have some eh, experience in this field?"
Using the tweezers, the doc folded back the flaps of skin covering the wound, exposing the deep laceration. The edges of the wound were partially torn and fleshy, the gash itself so deep the throat had been opened almost all the way to the bone. Hell of a hack-job, except it appeared to have been done in one fluid motion.
"Do you have any idea what might cause this injury?" the doc asked.
"Doesn't really matter. Wasn't very sharp, whatever it was. Someone was either a shitty planner and brought a dull weapon, or doesn't have access to decent quality stuff. It'd take strength to do this. Cut was made using the right hand."
"A blade?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Smooth edge or jagged?"
"Smooth, thin blade, or he'd never have gotten through the tendons without crushing the neck to a pulp."
"Very good. The wound caused heavy blood loss and the victim would have expired within minutes. Let's move on."
There were marks on the victim's upper arms and bruises around the wrists, like he'd been handled roughly, but according to the doc there was a notable lack of ligature marks. The fingers and knuckles were scraped and bruised as if he had tried to fight someone off. Greenish yellow marks showed on the sides of his ribs, as if someone had kicked him while he was down. Kenny was inspecting the corpse's bruised knees, when the doc leaned in very close to the man's crotch.
"The body exhibits bruising in the pelvic area too," the doc said in a tone that suggested this was exciting news, pointing to the area in question, in case Kenny wouldn't understand big words like "pelvic". Taking a firm hold of the corpse's penis, the doc twisted it back and forth, inspecting it from different angles.
"No damage to the genitals," the strange little man said, his face level somewhere around the stiffer's scrotum.
"Did ya really need to look that close to figure it out?"
The doc released his grip on the man's penis, and it flopped back down. Laurens' eyes wandered down the man's thighs, and then to his knees.
"I received a corpse once who displayed a strange rash around his reproductive organs. It drove me half out of my wits before I figured it out, thinking about that rash every waking moment. But then I went back with a looking glass and did another examination of the area, and what at first glance had appeared to be skin irritation turned out to be hundreds of tiny puncture marks."
"What, like someone used him as a pin cushion?"
"Yes, exactly like that. Help me turn him around please."
Kenny grabbed an arm and a knee, turning the body over to lie on its front. Like flipping a piece of driftwood.
The doc quickly examined the back of the man's skull, fingers combing through his short, wildly popular coiffure. They examined his scratched and bruised neck and back, evidence of what Laurens referred to as 'blunt force trauma', when what he really meant was that someone had used the guy as a punching bag. Then, with grim determination, the doc put his hands on the dead man's buttocks, gripped them firmly and-
"Ah hell, what the fuck would ya do that for? Ya hopin' to find something interestin' in there?" Kenny asked, because that shit just ain't right.
For some reason the doc didn't seem to hear him, and instead he leaned forward, nose stuck pretty much all the way down the dead man's asscrack, staring into it like he'd just discovered a doorway into another world.
"Come take a look at this!" he cried.
"Not a fuckin' chance, that's a place I never been, and I'd like to keep it that way. Ya just tell me if ya found Uri's family jewels down there, or somethin' else worth seein'."
In a voice that brooked no argument, the doc said, "Look," and despite all his misgivings, Kenny moved closer.
Yup, this is where loyalty, honor, servitude 'n all that shit gets ya—oughta have known. One moment ya bend like a reed in a stiff wind, and the next ya know you're stuck in some underground room with a tiny weirdo, peerin' down some dead asshole's—well, ya know.
He looked down. Goes to show that once seen, some things just can't be unseen.
"That's fuckin' disgusting."
"Or, if we were to offer a scientific explanation of our findings, what we see here are signs of severe trauma as well as tearing. Now, see there—bruising and several lacerations. I believe—but let me check— ah yes, there is perforation of the bowels further inside. The slightly distended abdomen could be an indication of there being blood or other bodily fluids present in the abdominal cavity."
Having experienced as much as he could stand of this, Kenny straightened.
"So, you're sayin' this 's the result of what, buggery?"
"More like aggressive penetration, using a foreign object."
"Yeah, and I'm thinkin' it was done while he was still alive and wrigglin'."
"The evidence would suggest as much. Only a living body forms bruises."
The back of the man's thighs and calves were mottled green and yellow, one of his toes broken clean off and hanging loosely by the skin.
The doc pulled the white sheet back up to cover the corpse of Joachim von Rohr. Then he produced a notebook, scribbling illegible little squiggles onto the yellowish paper at a pace that would make any decent journalist blanch.
"A professional must write everything down," he said, stabbing a full stop onto the page.
They stood side by side, eyes resting on that white sheet. Their victim.
Guess this is the part where I oughta give a shit. Maybe that's the idea Uri's got into his head this time, makin' amends or some shit. Sheddin' the chains of the past, growin' to become something new—all that crap he keeps harpin' on about.
"We sure someone did that to him right before he was killed?" he asked Laurens.
"Without a doubt. I would say no more than an hour could have passed between the sodomy and the laceration of the throat."
"Right. I'm thinkin' they started with the coderoin. Makes ya slow, easier to handle. And I doubt he'd be lively enough to get the powder all over his face after a buggerin' like that. Besides, what would be the point of druggin' him right before ya kill him?"
"I agree." Laurens said. "I also find it difficult to believe that one man did this on his own."
"If he did, I'd like to meet him."
"Why so?"
"'Cause he'd have three pairs of arms. Worth seein', don't ya think?"
"It certainly would be, and it would greatly improve our chances of apprehending the responsible party. After all, who would forget meeting such a person?" Laurens paused, tapping one fingertip against the bridge of his nose. "I keep asking myself—why the sodomy?"
"Probably 'cause he felt like it."
"A lust murder? If it is, I'd be less surprised to find a six-armed maniac than I would be to find a trio of killers. Lust murderers are usually elusive, solitary characters, but we must not dismiss this theory offhandedly. It is possible. What other reasons can you think of?"
Kenny shrugged. "There's the obvious one. Money."
The doc frowned and pushed his glasses up, perhaps struggling with the idea that men do almost anything for money.
That the smell of an idealist, thinkin' shit like knowledge and personal growth have immeasurable value?
"Money?" Laurens said, like it was a foreign concept. "Would you sodomize a man, slit his throat and leave him naked for his wife to find, for money?"
"Not a chance. I can just imagine the stupid fuckin' name they'd come up with if I did."
"You mean to say that personal pride would be your reason for turning down such a job opportunity, I take it," Laurens said, in a tone that suggested there was a right and a wrong answer to his question, and Kenny had bungled it.
Laurens continued, "If it is as you say and money is the motive, I would think it likely that one hand wielded the blade, while another provided the incentive. Men of means and sophistication are rarely accomplished in the deadly arts, after all. But what could motivate someone to have him killed in this particular way? Revenge? Punishment? Jealousy?"
"Perhaps he was known to play a round or two of double-daggers," Kenny said.
The doc stared at him as if was speaking in tongues. "I beg your pardon?"
"Maybe he preferred the company of other men."
"Oh," the doc said. "I see… You suggest there is symbolism at work here—an expression of moral outrage, perhaps?"
"Beats me, but either way we're not gonna figure anythin' out by standing here, talkin' about it."
"Good point." He went to the hook and slid back into his suit jacket. "Would you please close the blinds?"
Kenny turned the lever and gloom settled over the scene, strange shadows moving in the light of his lamp.
"Come then, let us make haste," he heard the doc's voice say, and the sound of his steps echoed in the direction of the stairs.
"Go where?"
"To the crime scene," the doc's voice called through the darkness, as Kenny hurried after him. By the sound of it he was almost at the top of the stairs. Damn he was a quick bastard—all the small ones were, apparently.