I rewrote the chapter so many times it's not even funny! But I hope you like it because I checked it for grammar about a dozen times to.
Warning!: This chapter contains examples of my forensic nerdyness including past serial killers, tecnical terms, not so tecnical terms and witnesses. It also has the usual amount of swearing, suggested violence/sexual abuse, the media and candid talks on women's lingerie.
Cori and I trolled away through the UK's illegal trafficking reports till lunchtime trying to find a likely weapon's dealer who had the ability to smuggle military weapons from the USA to Britain. We found several.
"You know" I remarked "I'd be a lot happier if we didn't find any one who could've done this"
"Why?" Cori asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Because it would mean that the secret service was actually doing its job and busting these douche's chops out a business."
"That would be great" Cori agreed "but where would that leave your case?"
"There wouldn't be a case" I pointed out.
At noon we left the basement and parted ways. Cori said that he'd ask his fellas about some of our more likely dealers and I headed up to the top floor where dad's office was to give him our latest findings.
"Merry Christmas Ling" I greeted dad's secretary pleasantly. Ling glanced up from where she had a rookie officer gazing at a thirty year old autopsy photo. The kid looked slightly green.
"Hello Straps" greeted Ling "this fellow and I have been going over a few of Ted Bundy's cases*. A fascinating study wouldn't you say?" her grin was a little too toothy to be considered safe.
"…uh…yes, certainly" I replied
"Very much so" the kid agreed weakly. I gave him a sympathetic smile.
"Now you'll be wanting to see Deuteronomy" she continued briskly "well he just went out for lunch, I don't think he'll be back for a while, Bustopher was with him and you know what he's like."
I nodded, indeed I do know what Bustopher's like... Victor says that he's a cat with a deep interest and appreciation for the police force and simply exercises his wealth to satisfy his curiosity in a way that most Jellicles would not be able to afford.
Pounce calls him a cop buddy wannabe.
"Do you want me to arrange an appointment with him?" asked Ling abandoning to autopsy photos (much to the young cop's relief) and turning her attention back to the computer.
"No that's alright, I'll go grab some lunch." replied and headed back out the door. Behind me I could hear Ling saying "well let's leave Bundy for a while and turn to John List*. He avoided capture for nearly 18 years you know…"
Rather than heading to the overcrowded canteen I walked a few streets to the local shopping center's food court for some lunch at Koyal's Korma which I know for a fact that makes a beef vindaloo to die for. The spicy Indian cuisine was lost on me however for as soon as I sat down a stray newspaper lying on the table caught my eye. A large photograph of Elizabeth Maclaby garnished the front page with the gaudy title MACKLABY MURDERED: LONDON'S LAWYER FOUND STRUNG FROM A TREE LAST EVENING.
I read on, fingers crossed for a nice touching account that kept the public politely informed whilst remaining un-speculative out of respect for the victim's family, it wasn't my lucky day.
At around ten fifteen last night the body of Elizabeth Maclaby,
London's celebrated lawyer, was found strung from a tree outside
her home. Her body had been severely mutilated by a night and
sexual abuse is also suspected. Friends of the renowned underdog
fighter report that she spoke frequently of other lawyers who
we're 'not at all happy' about losing high profile cases to attorney
who hadn't even earned her degree in Britain (Ms Maclaby was
a graduate of Elon University, America)
"I always knew something like this would happen" said a neigh…
I stopped reading there and tore up the newspaper first into fourths, then into the eighths, then threw the pieces into the bin but it was no use, the tactless text was already imprinted in my head and was staying there with a vengeance. I considered banging my head against the table but for all intents and purposes, it probably wouldn't do anything.
"Bad morning Munkus?" a familiar voice asked.
"Bad night rather" I mumbled "you probably read it in the paper this morning".
"You mean the lawyer person who was murdered? Yeah that is a grim night. Slide over would you?"
I looked over at Tugger as he helped himself to my vindaloo and stifled a giggle. We Jellicles don't wear clothes that often and fashion is only taken seriously by a few. Tugger however was decked to the nines in black skinny jeans, yellow converse and a shirt that had the second loudest pattern I've every scene, his jacket print was absolutely the loudest. If he'd been a stranger I would have called him trendy, but as he was my brother I only said,
"You look like a walking Picasso add"
Tugger puffed up his chest and winked roguishly over my shoulder, about two feet away a queen squealed "that's the intention" he smirked. I rolled my eyes
"So aside from embarrassing yourself…"
"I never embarrass myself!"
"So aside from not-embarrassing yourself what've you been up to?"
"I've been Christmas shopping!" Tugger announced proudly "I brought this great present for Deme" he patted the shopping bag he was carrying.
"Can I see it?" I asked. Tugger shrugged and passed the bag over.
"It's only some clothes that I think would look good on her" he said almost modestly. I lifted the contents out and nearly dropped the bag.
"Tugger!" I exclaimed "what were you thinking?"
"that they'd make a good present" replied Tugger "I mean what's wrong with a little..."
"you brought Deme underwear!"
"...and?"
"w…well" I stammered "how do you even know her size?"
"I'm an expert. Can tell a ladies size in three seconds flat" Tugger puffed himself up proudly "And it's not as if you can live with a woman and not know, I mean didn't you know Griddle's size?"
"Yes, but…"
"So why shouldn't we know our sister's?"
"Because she's our sister!" I flustered causing more than a few heads to turn and look in our direction.
Tugger, now looking very smug, wisely decided to change the subject. "So what did you get Misto this year?"
I sighed, knowing better than to continue with our original 'discussion'.
"I brought him a laptop skin, for his computer. It's got a picture of the sunset on it."
Tugger nodded thoughtfullyly "That sounds nice"
Unknowingly I started to grin "the idea is that whenever he stressing over coursework he can just turn the laptop round and watch the sunset"
Tugger tried not to laugh "very romantic of you Munkus"
"It's not romantic" I rebutted "I just know how worked up he can get over his assignments"
"Whatever you say brother" Tugger smiled knowingly before getting up from the bench and strutting out of the food court. As soon as he was gone a dozen queens or more left their tables and 'nonchalantly' hurried after him. I dug into what was left of the vindaloo finally able to enjoy it without thinking about blood and bodies. Tugger has that effect on people. He gets you so worked up that whatever was biting at you was chased away. I wondered why he'd asked what I'd gotten for Misto. He hadn't asked what I was giving him last year (a new scarf to replace his old one). Maybe he was still looking for a present for the tux? I thought chewing steadily.
Tugger's 'treatment' for breaking up the no exit roundabout that my mind was making out my current case worked for exactly four minutes and seventeen blessed seconds before my phone rang dad's ringtone for the second time in as many days. I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle before flipping it open
"Hello sir" I answered smartly "what's the news?"
"Bad news Munkus" my father's voice came back grimly "We have another homicide case, a young queen was found dead outside her flat not fifteen minutes ago. She had a single bullet to the heart, multiple cuts to her body, we haven't yet determined is there was sexual assault but…"
"what's the address?"
The street where Maclaby was killed had been fairly deserted thanks to the lateness of the hour and the neighbors all being on holiday. At the streets leading up to where the queen we later identified at Felicity Hays laid it was like trying to elbow your way to the door of a train at rush hour. Reporters were snapping pictures and shouting out question to anyone that looked slightly official. Teenagers were holding up mobiles and recording and a vast sea of people were simply standing there gawping and contaminating the crime scene.
"Hello Victor" I grunted as I squeezed past the crowd to the street where Felicity lay."
Victor, who was standing at the edge of the tape, nodded me through and grumbled "bloody civilians, think this is a circus they do."
"They haven't crossed the line yet" I tried to reassure.
"yet" he stretched the monosyllable into three.
A skinny cop that I didn't know the name of appeared out of the police van. Armed with a megaphone he started calling out to the crowd in a fluctuating voice. "Alright everyone, t-there isn't anything to see here , s-so if you could please…"
"Oh give that here" said Victor snatching the megaphone out of the kid's hand "let me show you how it's done". Winking at the cop and then at me he raised the device high over his head until it issued a high pitched wail. Every Jellicle within a thirty meter radius (myself included) covered their ears as the shrieking sound continued for a good five seconds. "Listen up!" Victor shouted into the microphone "we have a murdered girl behind this tape and we're doing our best to find out whom. Do you want to help us or what?" Most of the Jellicles nodded in agreement. Victor smiled and blasted into the megaphone "THEN GET YOUR FURRY ARSES OFF THE BLOODY CRIME SCENCE!"
"So you think it might be the same guy who shot Maclaby?" I asked as I meticulously searched through some unnecessarily prickly shrubs.
"It's early on but I think so" agreed Cassandra
"The victim's races and ages are different" I mused shifting my gloved fingers through the damp soil "but the MO* is almost identical to Macklaby's killer"
I continued squirreling around while Cassandra pulled out her note pad. "Alright" she announced tucking her pen behind her ear. "The passport in the bag found next to the body says that Felicity's twenty three and lives in America. I'm not too sure what she's doing in Britain in the middle of winter but my guess would be that she's getting some sort of sports training? Maybe tennis judging by the callouses on her hands."
"Lacrosse or hockey"
"Pardon?"
"She's most likely a lacrosse or hockey player. The callouses we found on her hands were of roughly equal amount, if she'd been a tennis player it would have been mostly on one hand." I explained while gently digging around a shapeless metallic object from the buried leaves "ah ha! Found the little devil"I motioned for Cassandra to take photos of the slug whilst I changed gloves, and took another look at the excruciatingly youthful face of Felicity.
She was a calico, just like Jerrie and Teazer. She even looked a little like them, like a cousin or an older sister perhaps. There was even a certain mischievous crinkle around her mouth that was identical to my rambunctious adopted daughter. I imagined what Teazer would look like at twenty three… and found that I had to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
My phone started beeping so I hurriedly dabbed my eyed with my coat sleeve and answered "This is Munkustrap speaking"
"Hi Munkus I traced the address that we found on the parcel and found Hay's grandparents" said Pepper triumphantly "them and her parents are being interviewed right now. Oh yeah and Pounce says get your tail over here this instant."
"Why Pepsi?"
Pepper's voice rose an octave with every word "We've got a…" the last word was in the stratosphere but I still caught it.
"You're kidding me" I answered "you mean we've actually got a…"
"What've we got?" asked Cassandra who was still in the dark
"We've got a witness for Maclaby's murder!" I thrilled
Needless to say high fives of epic propulsion were soon exchanged.
*Ted Bundy was a serial murder/rapist is extimated to have killed over 30 women during the 1970's. He is thankfully now dead.
*John List was an accountant who murdered his family in 1971 and was not caputured untill 1989. He too is now deceased.
*MO stands for Modus Operandi which is latin for 'mode of operation' and is a common term in criminal profiling.
I'm quite glad that I found a good title for this chapter, for the past two weeks I've simply been refering to it as 'underwear' .
R & R if you feel so disposed