Chapter 3.
Reinhardt stood in the midst of chaos. Dozens upon dozens of people stood howling at the police man stationed at the front desk of Scotland Yard. The navy blue uniformed officer yelled with a loud booming voice to try and overcome the bellowing of the crowd. Reinhardt stood for about five minutes waiting to see if he would be attended. Eventually he concluded that the direct approach might be best. The front desk sat on a raised platform with a door to the left and a swinging door that was waist height to the right. Reinhardt subtly made his way through the crowd and went through the swinging door. Reinhardt was stopped after taking eight steps from the swinging door.
"Oi!" shouted an officer. "And just where do you think you are off to?"
Reinhardt faced the officer. "Inspector Cunningham is expecting me. My name is Reinhardt Schneider."
The officer evidently did not like Reinhardt's blunt move to pass through the front desk unannounced, did not fancy his obviously foreign accent, and definitely did not like his name. "We'll see about that. Come on." The officer led him through the maze of desks belonging to various officers, constables, and finally to the desk of Jonathan Cunningham. Cunningham looked up at Reinhardt with the same irritated gaze he had given him yesterday morning at his home. By the way Cunningham inspected him, Reinhardt could swear that he was checking to see if he had grown taller since yesterday.
"I wear tall boots," Reinhardt offered.
Cunningham looked down to see Reinhardt wearing a pair of rather worn leather boots with slightly elevated heels giving Reinhardt a quarter inch more height than yesterday. The boots completely clashed with Reinhardt's gentlemanly pure black slacks, white button shirt, and black vest. "You don't wear a coat or jacket?" Cunningham inquired.
"Only on occasions of great importance. Never on business. This is my informal wear."
Cunningham gestured for him to follow through the maze of desks to a stairwell door. The two descended the ill lit stairs. "Perhaps I should have warned you."
"Warned me?"
"Not to wear white. Where we go, you are guaranteed to get stained."
Cunningham and Reinhardt descended the steps to beneath the Scotland Yard where a small chamber served as the mortuary. Whether it was a permanent arrangement or something set up just for these bodies Reinhardt could not deduce. A large stout man, dressed in what used to be a surgeon's white gown, awaited them seated eating a sandwich.
"Had to be when I sat down to eat!" said the stout man loudly. The man dropped his sandwich and stood before a row of three tables. The floor directly above them seemed to be the front desk area so the stomping of feet could be heard as well as felt. Thus, the overhead hanging lights were always swinging back and forth. Reinhardt's eyes adjusted to the darkness but everything he saw was through half glimpses of light.
Cunningham had a folder underneath his arm, which he now pulled out. "A summary of the details are: -Three persons dead -All three are members of the upper class -Bodies of all three were found at different and far away locations throughout London -The professions of the three men were, in order of the murders, a banker, a real estate man, and a bookstore owner."
The stout man lifted the first of three sheets covering the tables. What was underneath was far from being identifiable as human. No hands or feet were foreseeable. Arms and legs were indiscernible from the other. In fact nothing was attached to anything. What lay on the table was merely a pile human flesh mutilated in one way or another. The first question that came to Reinhardt's mind was where are the missing pieces? Eaten? The stout man, the coroner Reinhardt surmised, removed the next sheet. What was beneath the second was more or less the same as the first. Whether there was more or less Reinhardt did not even try to contemplate.
Cunningham continued "The three victims were not connected socially. Interviews with friends and family indicate that the three persons did not know each other. Though interestingly, all three were member to the same gentlemen's club. The Campbell Club. That one with the two large C's engraved on the doors. Otherwise the only other connection linking the three has been the extensive mutilation of the bodies. All three were murdered in dark alleys away from prying eyes." Cunningham paused. "What would make such high stature men walk into a dark corner I do not know. Finally Cunningham closed the folder. "As you can see. There is not much left of them. And not much to go on in terms of motive."
"Tell him about the moon." Grunted the coroner. Cunningham seemed bothered by his interruption.
"The Moon?"
"One of my 'above heads' is a superstitious fellow. I've marked him as one of those queer handshaking masons. Anyway, his little contribution to this case, apart from recommending you, was a little tidbit of information. On the night of each murder there was a full moon."
Reinhardt remained silent, examining the human remains on the tables.
Cunningham looked at him for a moment. "You are not a mason are you?"
"No. "
Reinhardt lifted the third sheet for himself. The remains were the same. Already Reinhardt was formulating his own theories about what manner of creature did this.
"How were the bodies identified?"
Cunningham closed his folder and turned to walk closer to the stairs. "At each scene we found the victim's belongings scattered. Our coroner seems to think that whoever did this literally dug into the bodies like a dog digs into the ground. The murderer would rip the clothes off scattering them and whatever the victim was carrying. Examining the belonging yielded the identities of each of them. I have denied the families permission to see the bodies until the investigation is over. Since all of them were reported missing they all accept our word that their loved ones are truly deceased."
The coroner approached Reinhardt holding a small thin glass tube. "I also found this. Fibers of hair, scattered over each body. Not human." Reinhardt took the glass tube in his hand and examined its contents. A single long hair was contained in the tube. Reinhardt's theories solidified themselves. Reinhardt waved the tube before the coroner, "May I take this?" Reinhardt turned to face Cunningham. "For my own personal investigation."
"Of course, Mr. Schneider. We are of course anxious for any help you may give us." Cunningham then left the two men alone, in total darkness except for the swinging lights that did not stop swinging.