I grab Vince's wrist to get a better look at the alarming mark and he winces, so I relax my grip. I watch as his circulation sends my fingermarks pink over his skin. I raise my eyebrows apologetically and he shrugs like it's the least of his worries, I guess he's right.
"Vince? What the fuck? When did you get this? Did you know what it meant?" I look at him and see him clearly for the first time in our years working together. His wide eyes, looming from behind his glasses, the small, full mouth sloping off to the side in a kind of self mocking sneer, the shiny bald head, like an egg waiting to be cracked open.
"Yeah, I did, but I thought it was cool." He looks down at his wrist and I can see now that the image is strangely placed, like he was making room for more ink work. I push my finger into the blank skin.
"What was supposed to go here? Did you change your mind?" He looks at me for a long time before he pulls his arm away from me. He wriggles his watch back down, effectively covering the strange symbol. He looks away across the office and purses his lips. There's a long silence where he seems to decide something. When he turns back to me there's a light in his eyes, a scary, manic look. I roll my chair back.
"Look, Dex, if I tell you this then..." he shakes his head and scuffs his toe on the floor. "Well, let's just say it's personal, right? But I guess you're the best person to understand it so..." I widen my eyes, what the hell is going on? He looks at me again so I nod, encouraging him to go on.
"Right before I met Su Lin, you know, when the Barrel Girl thing was just starting?" I nod and he sighs. "Well, I met this Asian chick and she introduced me to a friend and... well, they asked me if I wanted to have a 369..." I frown and he catches my expression. His eyes go wide for a minute and I can see he's judging me, gauging what he is going to say. "Dex, a 369? No?" He sighs and shakes his head. "I guess you're not as hardcore as you made out, huh?" He sniggers in that lewd way which will, one day, make Deb shoot him in the head. I raise an eyebrow.
"I didn't make anything out, Vince. What's a 369?"
"It's where the girls go down on each other while the guy..." he mimes holding someone's hips and thrusting forward. I grimace, it's not an image I wanted in my head.
"Oh, right, thanks. Go on..." He grins briefly and then nods to himself.
"Right, so, it was all good. Everyone was happy and then this other chick suggested we all got a tattoo done, you know a kind of trophy, like those guys in Nam?" I briefly wonder whether it's worth pointing out to him that having a three-way and fighting in the jungles of Vietnam bear little resemblance to each other but he doesn't even notice the inappropriateness of his analogy.
"So, this other girl, she's a tattooist and she picks these Japanese symbols, tells us they mean something cool and I go first..." He's about to continue but then I stop him.
"What? Something cool? Vince, when did you find out what it meant?" I shake my head and he gets defensive. For a minute I think he's going to walk right out of the lab. This is why Harry taught Deb to be a cop. I'm not good with people, unless they're plastic wrapped.
"Well, of course I fucking asked, Dex! What do you think I am? A moron?" He doesn't wait for a reply, which is a relief. But then his next sentence has me rolling my eyes and sighing again. "She wouldn't tell me, it's kanji, you know, the Chinese symbols form? They were adopted by the Japanese. Anyway, we all picked one of these three symbols and she told me mine meant 'warrior'." He shakes his head and I can see he's embarrassed by the story; Vince likes to be the clever one.
"Don't get mad, but you let this girl draw something on your skin and you didn't even know what it meant?"I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice and, for the first time, Vince looks like he might cry. I will him to stay dry, I can't do tears. He rubs his face with his hand, moving his glasses up onto his forehead.
"I know, but, well, I just didn't want to seem like an idiot. These girls were heavily into culture, you know? I think they only picked me because I was Asian, you know, a brother." I don't point out that the term is usually reserved for black Americans.
"So, you didn't ask anymore because you were embarrassed?" He looks up, his eyes are full of water but they don't spill. Atta boy Vince.
"When I got back home I checked it out. I found what you found." He nods to the screen which has now gone back to my blood splatter screen saver. I stare at the red against the white and it soothes me.
"Did these girls get the tattoo done?" He shrugs.
"I got a little queasy when the tattoo was done, I went home. They said they'd call," he sneers and shakes his head again.
"I'm guessing they didn't?" he pulls down his glasses and looks at me. "Ok, you felt queasy? Vince, you have that huge tattoo of the dragon lady! A little thing like that made you feel sick?" He taps his foot on the floor impatiently and looks at me in a pointed way. Whatever the hint is, I don't get it.
"Well, I may have partaken of something to make the evening a little more... enjoyable." He says finally when I don't take the hint. I frown, trying to imagine why anyone would need drugs when they were doing what Vince claimed to have been doing that night. Nope, can't see it. I raise my brows and nod slowly. "Look, don't fucking judge me, Dex! Everyone does dark shit, even you!" He has a point.
"So, you never saw these girls again and you don't know if they got the tattoo. Do you know their names?"
"Well, the one I met called herself Sunako, but I don't think that's her real name." His mouth is a thin line, he knows the next question.
"The other girl?" He shakes his head.
"She never said, I thought it just wasn't cool to ask, you know?" He looks at me, as if he expects me to understand how it can be uncool to ask the name of the woman with whom you are having sex. People astonish me.
"You know you're going to have to tell Deb all this, don't you?" His head goes down onto his chest and he nods, it's a small, defeated gesture.
The door flings open. Deb smacks her palm off the top of her closed fist. She seems to be over her headache but I see her eyes flick to Masuka, then back to me and she winces slightly. She does, however, catch something on the inside of Masuka's wrist, barely hidden by his watch strap and she cocks her head.
"What's going on in here? I came in to tell you that, from out there," she points out of the window to where Quinn and Angel are standing and staring at us, Quinn waves, "it looks like you two are holding hands." She grins malevolently. Vince looks up, his spirit is broken.
"Fuck you, Morgan," he says, but it's a dead statement, it has none of his usual fire.
"Holy mother of fucking fuck! You have the third tattoo don't you? Jesus! Fuck me sideways!" She grabs his wrist, it's remarkably similar to my own reaction, maybe Deb and I are alike after all? "You, come with me, now. You're gonna have to make a statement." She doesn't let go of Vince's wrist and he stands up reluctantly. I watch Deb drag him away to the incident room, waving for Quinn and Angel to follow her. Angel looks over at me quizzically. I get up and go after them.
As I cross the floor my cell phone buzzes in my pocket, it's Lumen.
"Hey you!" Just the thought that she's calling me is like a light in this dark tunnel.
"Hi, Dex, is this a bad time?"
"No, just busy is all. I can talk for a minute. What's up?"
"Nothing, I just wondered if Cody and Astor would like to see the circus. And Harrison of course, if he's not too small? Someone here got tickets for her nephews and nieces and they can't go. What do you think? It's tonight." I look over at the glass cube of the incident room. Masuka is sitting on the desk; Angel is writing notes and glancing up, his face a picture of horror. Quinn is smirking and hiding his expression when Deb looks over at him. Deb looks dumbstruck.
"Yeah, the circus might be a break from what's going on here today. Great. What time shall we pick you up?"
"Oh, seven? The show starts at seven thirty." I can hear the smile in her voice, it makes me smile too.
"Ok, see you at seven. I'd better go."
"Ok, see you later. Oh, and Dexter?" I frown, what? Her tone is suddenly serious.
"Yeah?" I know I sound tense.
"I love you." She breathes the words, the sound goes right through me. Suddenly I am grinning like a madman.
"I love you too, babe," I say, astonishing myself with the term of endearment. Lumen giggles and I laugh too.
The afternoon is a flurry of questions, recriminations, regret and worry. Deb gets the name of the club where Masuka met these two girls and he tries to remember the location of the place where he got the tattoo. It seems this girl wasn't working at a regular tattoo parlour and he had the ink done in her home, but he doesn't know where that is.
"How can you not fucking know, Vince? You were driven there, right?" Deb shakes her head at me. I shouldn't even be there, there's no blood and I'm not a cop. But Vince wants me to stay and Deb suggests I take his blood and check him out for anything he might have caught from this mysterious girl's needle.
"I was occupied!" he protests, standing up and waving his arms before Deb pushes him right back into his seat. She pulls a face and makes a noise and it's clearly her expression when she wants to say 'what the fuck?' but knows she's used that phrase about a million times today already. I appreciate her restraint. "The other girl was kissing me and... stuff." He tails off looking at Angel and Quinn for moral support, expecting them, as men, to defend him. Angel quirks his mouth and I can see him biting the inside of his cheek. Quinn looks blankly back at Vince, not about to put his own ass on the line with Deb to save Vince's face. Vince finally looks to me; I lean back against the table, hands in my pockets and nod in a noncommittal way.
"Jesus on a fucking jet ski!" Deb spins away from Vince and back to the incident board where she's already pointed out that we have a 'big, stinking pile of crap' on the current suspects. Vince has described them as having that 'cute Asian girl bob' and wearing 'cool Lolita outfits'. Deb Googles the term and flashes up a picture of a young girl wearing a frankly alarming ensemble which seems to be designed to tap into the schoolgirl fantasy. She can't be much older than Astor and I find this particularly disturbing. Short, frilly skirt flared out with petticoats, long socks tied in a bow over the knee, jacket with a nipped in waist and pushed up breasts. Quinn whistles and Deb glares at him. She looks at Masuka and I see her jaw clench.
"Is it any fucking wonder you guys end up in the shit when this, this," she stabs a finger at the screen, "is the sort of shit that turns you on?" She sends a fierce look at each of us in turn. I step back, pulling my hands out of my pockets and holding them up in surrender.
"Where were you when you met them? Maybe the barman or the security guys will remember them?" Quinn tries to salvage the afternoon from becoming Deb's crusade against men and our evil ways. Masuka shakes his head, like he's trying to remember.
"I was at the bar when I met the first chick, I think. Yes, yes I was, and then her friend came over and we sat in the corner, by the VIP lounge." Quinn notes it down.
"What is this club, Vince? Is it somewhere you've taken us before?" Vince is legendary on our floor as the organiser of staff social occasions, with varying degrees of success. He shakes his head and brays that alarming laugh again.
"No, no Dex, I wouldn't take you guys there. It's strictly Asians only. You guys wouldn't get past the door." I nod and wonder why he'd want to go someplace like that; he never seems to care much about his Asian heritage, unless it suits him.
"Right, so, let's recap..." Angel begins, pulling us back to the investigation like a good sergeant.
"Yeah, that's easy, we have fuck all on fuck all. We don't know who these chicks are, where they live or what the fuck they're doing." Deb shakes her head and clicks off the computer screen. Angel looks at her for a moment, eyebrows raised. Deb's the first one to back down.
"Vince, could you describe these girls' height and weight to Dex? Maybe this will help us narrow them down for our suspects for the beheading?" He looks at me and I nod. It's a long shot, but it's something to be going on with, I guess. "Did they have any other ink, Vince?"
Masuka frowns and I can almost see the cogs working. He twists his mouth and then shakes his head. Angel sighs.
"Ok, Morgan, Quinn, get yourselves to this club, see if you can talk to the management, see any camera footage. Even the line outside might tell us something about these ladies. Vince, I'm giving you protective detail until this is sorted out, ok?" Vince looks like he might cry again, Angel turns to me quickly.
"Dexter, go through everything you got back from the crime scenes. I want anything at all you find which isn't our victims' checked out, Ok?" I give a salute and he smiles briefly. As we all file out of the glass box, I have a thought.
"If this was these girls, or one of them, it would make sense as to why the first murder happened in the ladies' restroom at the nightclub." Angel stops and pats me on the shoulder.
"You're right, socio, that's good thinking. Do you think one girl did both killings or are they sharing?" I frown, I hadn't thought of that. I need to look at angles, trajectory of blood and tissue. I'll be swinging a sword at a dummy for a few hours this afternoon, I can think of things that are less fun.
"Sharing? Jesus, two serial killers out there, working together?" Quinn looks back at us and I shake my head like it's the worst idea I've ever heard.
"Maybe they're partners, you know, sexually?"Angel says looking at me, and then Quinn. "Maybe they hate men?"
"From what Vince said, they can't hate us so much!" Quinn sniggers and Angel laughs too, even I crack a smile just because this is so stressful, a threat to one of us.
"Can you cocksuckers get your minds out of the sewer for a second and concentrate on the fucking case?" Deb says over her shoulder as she grabs her jacket and her gun from the back of her chair. "Quinn, come on." Quinn raises his eyebrows to us as he follows her meekly to the elevator. Angel waves and I salute again.
"Good luck," mouths Angel, and Quinn laughs, we see Deb grab his arm and the elevator doors close.
The next two hours involve me in a white 'condom' suit and goggles slashing at a white plastic dummy with a variety of Japanese swords. First I try the katana, a long sword and single edged, traditionally used by the samurai. This leaves a satisfying streak of blood as it follows through the dummy's neck but this isn't the splatter pattern found at either scene. Still, I enjoy beheading the dummy again, just to be sure.
Then I replace the head, filling the neck cavity with another bag of the corn syrup and dye gloop I use to simulate blood. I'm proud of my own mixture; it has just the right consistency and drip time as the real thing. I did a lot of research to get it just right.
I pick up the tanto, a small, slashing dagger, barely long enough to sever a head and give it a try. The blade feels smooth in my hand, little air resistance and I'm amazed at the original craftsmanship that designed this blade. Even though this is a modern copy, the originals must have been wonderful to use. It doesn't really match the job, but it's so neat and sharp in my hand I muse about where I could buy one for my own collection. I consider stabbing the dummy in the chest, just to feel the down stroke with this beautiful weapon but I'm supposed to be working, not playing.
The next weapon I chose is a wakizashi, a shorter, double edged sword. It gives me the leverage to really bring some force down on the neck. The slice is clean even using little force, the short blade propelling itself through the 'flesh' of the dummy. I stand for a moment, breathing heavily, before I check the splatter on the wall. Yes, this is the one.
As I put it down on the table I consider what a good choice this is for a female killer. Maybe I should get one for Lumen? I smile inside the white hood.
"Anything?" It's Deb, grinning as she takes in my outfit and the mess I've made. I nod and pass her a sheet splattered with red.
"This one," I point the wakizashi at the paper. She looks up at me and nods.
"So, you finished?" I shake my head.
"No, still got to work out the height of the killer, maybe their frame too?" I stand back and look Deb up and down. "You're too tall. Who else have we got?" She frowns, thinking.
"We've got a temp on the desk downstairs. She's Asian, small, what about her?" I nod and she goes back out of the room returning moments later with a striking looking woman with purple streaks in her spiky blue black hair and her eyebrows pierced. As she comes towards me, I notice that she is wearing bright yellow socks with fluorescent pink shoes. It's disturbing underneath her boring blue skirt and blouse. She looks down at the shoes and then back at me.
"I'm behind a desk, no one sees them." I grin and pass her the short sword. She switches it from one hand to the other, now she's grinning too. "Where is this fucker you want beheading? Point me at him," she says menacingly. Deb's eyebrows raise in alarm and I laugh and point to the dummy.
Seven swings, seven more dummy heads, seven blood bags and we have our killer's height and weight, or thereabouts.
"Thank you..." I say, realising I don't know her name.
"Su Lin," she says, shaking my hand, hers is covered in red and mine is a latex glove.
Thanks guys for your continued support with this. It can be very lonely when you feel like no one is out there and it makes my day to get your comments. Love to VB for being a demon beta and to Staceuo for saying the nicest things.