Chapter I: Marked in Flesh
A wave of summer heat wafted through the air. There was no cool breeze, just the heat. People walked around the streets, almost in a sluggish manner as if the pure effort of actually resisting the heat and staying cool was too much. Paris had finally given up.
Detective Luke Jensen did his best not to show any signs of the heat effecting him, but he could already feel beads of sweat forming on his slightly tanned forehead. For the first time since he had arrived in Paris six months ago, he could honestly say he missed London. The rain. The cold. The tea. He was tired of drinking coffee or better yet, café.
He let out a soft sigh, before rolling up the sleeves of his light blue shirt. Sure, it didn't give him the most professional look, but he was really too hot and tired to care. He had been part of the French Ministry of Magic: law enforcement division for the last 6 months and it had taken exactly six months for Paris to lose its appeal. This was partly because everyone on the task force hated him. Half because he was English and half because he wasn't French. Having his shirt sleeves rolled up was just another reason for one of his colleagues to tell him off. Oh, but if you want people to respect the English then you must dress like the French!
Luke's dark blue eyes stared up at the apartment building in front of him. There was nothing special about it. Just your typical French apartment building, a bit older than the rest in the neighborhood, The white paint was peeling in certain areas to show concrete and he could make out a spot where someone had recently tried to remove graffiti on one of the walls.. From outside he could hear hear a baby crying and a muggle television on way too loud. He could already tell it was going to be a long day.
He started to make his way into the building, the scent of lemon scented cleaning products and the cooking of at least half a dozen families hitting him as soon as he walked in. He made his way to the fourth floor, made a right and knocked on the first door- 4bd. The door opened as soon as he closed fist made contact with the pealing green paint.
"As always, you are late detective Jenson." For some reason, his colleague, Jaques Mirot had the bad habit of calling him 'Jenson' instead of 'Jensen'. Luke had long learned to live with it and Mirot's bad attitude.
Luke ignored him as he looked at his surroundings. He was in a very small room. A small, battered green couch that had been placed on the far wall was the only furnisher in the room. There were a few papers scattered on the floor, a few gallons and of course the body. Luke took a step closer and knelt over the dead man. His shirt was ripped over to show a strange strangle carved into his flesh (Luke was pretty sure it had been done by hand and not magic), a silver ring on his right index finger and the man's head was missing.
"Any sign of his head? Have you spoken to the neighbors yet?" Luke asked Mirot, without taking his eyes off the body.
Mirot shook his head, "No, the heads not here and the neighbors heard nothing. Most likely had memory charms cast on them. I'll send some people to take a look at them later on but I doubt we'll get anything out of them. What do you make out of all of this?"
Normally, Luke would have found it odd that Mirot was actually asking his opinion on something but he was sure this was the strangest case either of them had ever seen. Luke, only 24 had seen a lot of bad things. From fighting in the 2nd war when he was only 15, to working in London rounding up death eaters and now in Paris but he had never seen something so…cold hearted. "I'm not sure what to make of the Triangle; it could mean half a million things. I'll talk to someone who knows more about accent ruins than I do. As for the head, I believe that it was removed by magic, but I'm not sure exactly what spell the killer used to make such a clean cut. I have no idea how we're going to figure out who our John Doe is."
"You English are always so negative," Mirot said shaking his head as he pulled something out of his pocket, "I found this along with a lighter and some gold." He handed a picture over to Luke. There were two people in the picture, both of whom, much to Luke's horror, he recognized. He held the Polaroid close to his face. Nothing was moving in the picture so he assumed it had been taken with a muggle camera. There was a young man sitting on a beach in what Luke guessed was a park or garden and based on the ring that on his right index finger was their John Doe. He was smiling and had his arm around a beautiful young woman who had to be only a few years younger than him, her dark skin and hair matching his to a queue.
"The man's name, if I'm not mistaken is Charles Connolly. You should find the woman in the picture. Her name is Willamina. She's his younger sister." Luke said, trying to get over the shock.
"How do you know?" Mirot asked, as he took the picture from Luke's hands to examine it more carefully. Shocked that Luke had figured something so important out before he did.
"Willamina is an…acquaintance of mine from my time at Hogwarts," was all Luke said before the left them room. He needed some fresh air.