Blood & Baltazar

by Liam Inscoe-Jones

  “Deputy!” The call of the Chief Detectors voice was all too familiar and, like the solider he hid long enough to avoid becoming, Rosin leapt from the wall and stood to attention. Marcus Fraun was alone as he walked down the stretch of dirt towards him. The Chief greeted his deputy with his usual friendly tone of voice. “Where’s the body then?”

  Deputy Ash stumbled for a moment. “… He’s round the corner, 50 years of age I‘d say, Caucasian, Elisa had found no real cause of death again-”

  Marcus Fraun leant in closer, his voice softer. “Listen Rosin-” he whispered, “I’m sorry but-”

  Rosin cut him off as the meaning of his apology became immediately apparent as Josiah Hartt and Lylith White came strolling around the alleys corner.

  “What?” Ash spluttered quietly. “Marcus are you kidding me? You said you’d ditch him or arrest him, now he’s tagging along for the ride? He’s not crime-scene licenced for a start but Christ knows what else he is.”

  “I can’t ditch someone potentially involved in this mess, but we are basing the entirety of our suspicions on the fact he rather seems to know what he’s doing - now that won’t hold up in a court will it? We need him here; we have to be there if or when he finally slips up.”

  Rosin Ash noticed Josiah too late to warn his Chief. Hartt had suddenly bounded towards them and in a split second placed his hand firmly upon Marcus Fraun’s shoulder. He leant in with a grin. “Not talking about me are we Detectors?” He beamed, easing away again. “Not to worry Chief – that’s my favourite hobby too.” He jutted a thumb backwards. “This way is it?”

  The Deputy Detector nodded.

  Josiah grinned, beckoning Lylith to follow. “Come on Miss White: the game’s afoot!”

  Hartt vanished around the corner in the direction of the corpse and Lylith obediently followed, scurrying past the detectors with an apologetic smile. She turned the corner onto a stretch of walls facing the forest. The pathway was littered with dirt and bark, the ground soft beneath their feet. Patches of mould spread along the clay houses, like a plague slowly eating its way through the dust and the woodwork.

  The body was just a shadow as she approached, yet as she edged closer the man’s features became clearer. He was thin and weedy, dressed in a suit two sizes too big for him. His hair was thick and grey, sitting loosely atop a flaking scalp. His hands were folded neatly over his chest, his long legs lying in parallel on the ground. Field Specialist Elisa Smith was looming somewhere in the shadows of the forest but Josiah had already pushed her aside and had begun his inspection of the body and its surroundings.

  “Not going to throw up are you?” He asked, looking up at her.

  She honestly wasn’t sure. “No.” She uttered, for the simplicity’s sake.

  “Good.” He said. “We don’t want the place contaminated now do we?” He paused. “Oh, and I don’t want you to feel bad either. That’s another thing I feel.” He looked up again with a smile, only to find her barely listening, entranced by the body.

  “Lylith.” He said, softer this time. “You don’t have to say. I haven’t written up any contractual obligation as of yet… if you don’t want to be here you can go.”

  “No-” She said again, pulling her eyes away. “No I want to stay.” She sighed and shook her head. “God. The second corpse today.”

  “I know!” Hartt grinned, dusting off his hands. “Is it really Christmas already?”

  “You’re sick.” Elisa Smith muttered from behind her clipboard.

  Josiah ignored her and turned to face the Chief Detector and his Deputy as they joined them from the alleyway. “It’s the same paint.” Rosin said.

  Lylith paused for a moment, confused by the statement. Ash saw this and gestured towards the wall where, hidden by shadow, the yellow concentric circles were painted. Josiah Hartt had unsurprisingly been more observant. “I know.” He said. “On the dead blokes fingertips too, just like on the hands of Roseanne Price. Except there are no marks on the floor like before, so no fisticuffs here. That means neither of the victims picked up the paint in the middle of a scuffle. They’re touching the symbol for some other reason.”

  “I know one thing at least-” Marcus Fraun began. “It’s defiantly a cult of some kind; they’ve used it twice now - on two different bodies. This must be their calling card. Whether the victims were part of this group or members of some opposing party will surely be the key to understanding why they were killed in the first place...”

  “Wrong.” Josiah stated, tucking his fingers beneath the man’s collar. “Very wrong. Twice actually. Doubly wrong. A simply magnificent excess of wrong. Firstly: these ‘legions of the war’ tend to have an emblem that is linked to their beliefs. This is just a random shape: four concentric circles and two parallel lines? It may be a code of some kind, meaningless to everybody except the people who were looking for it. These victims’ deaths might have no connection to the war at all.” He looked to the Chief and smiled. “Secondly: you’ve demonstrated that don’t even know one thing.”

  Lylith White watched the Detectors face darken as he left Rosin’s side. “No matter – I am not the one under investigation, you are. This is quite the moment of truth for you Mr Hartt.”

  “I’d prefer a moment of silence.” Josiah muttered, then resented. “Okay, you’ve got me: why is it a moment of truth?”

  Marcus smiled slightly. “When we found the body of Roseanne Price you seemed to know everything about her, even to the extent of the details of her death. This of course led to speculation as to the nature of your involvement in her murder.”

  Hartt nodded. “Of course.”

  “And so this is your moment of truth, Josiah, in that should you know an equal amount about the death of this man we would have valid cause to slap on the handcuffs and drag you down to the Force’s HQ. Should you know nothing, you’re previous knowledge was a simple fluke and you may leave, never to insult my detectors again.”

  Lylith could feel the atmosphere change, or more accurately the grim faces of the three detectors melt into self-satisfied smiles. She too turned to anticipate Hartt’s crucial answer. It came quietly. “I know nothing.” He admitted.

  Marcus Fraun grinned. “Okay then, thank you Josiah.”

  Rosins eyes widened. “Wait, surely you won’t just take his word-”

  The Chief held his hand out. “No Deputy, his answer was irrelevant. There was no way he could have killed this man, he was with us the whole time, and the body’s barely cold. I just needed him to reveal that his deduction of the nature of Roseanne’s death was mere lucky speculation, forcing an admission that would give him cause at last to stop playing games and quietly leave.” He turned to Hartt. “So please Josiah, you may go.”

  Josiah nodded, strolling away from the body, eyes on his feet. But when he reached the two Detectors he stopped, raised his head and spoke. “Well to say I know nothing may be a slight exaggeration.” He began. “I do that the deaths are somehow connected to drugs, that this man’s name is Robert Acrimony, that he was an buisnessman from the city who recently split from his wife, that there was not one person here before we arrived but two and that one is much deadlier than the other – but apart from that, sure, nothing.”

  Lylith warmed again, strangely relieved that Josiah’s fall from grace was another simple deception. She also enjoyed watching the Chief’s grin shrivel into a frown, as he stumbled to find some kind of response.

  Rosin supplied one on his behalf by unclipping his handcuffs from his belt and preparing them for Josiah wrists, Hartt stepped back however, wagging his finger. “Oh no I don’t think so deputy, sorry. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’d both enjoy that kind of arrangement but your Chief sort of closed that door already I’m afraid. You see he admitted that there was no way I could have killed this man, he was just anticipating that I was a fake and wanted to the prove it. The problem with that of course is that I’m not a fake, as I just demonstrated, and so you’re left with no choice but to tr
ust that I really could come to a crime scene fresh and ascertain all that I did.”

  “If you aren’t just making it up.” Field Specialist Elisa Smith said. “If you really did work all that out, tell us how you did it.”

  “Okay…” Josiah Hartt coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s relatively simple. The dead man’s wearing a suit for a start, and nobody round here seems to make the effort meaning he either comes from one of the towns in the valley, or… he works in the city. He carries something every day; there are marks on his hands where he clutches a strap, so of course he’s a businessman of enough stature that he’s got something worth carrying. There are no mud stains on his trousers, no marks on his shoes where he’s sat astride of a horse, so he came here in a car.” He reached into the man’s inside pocket, pulling out pieces of paper. “His break up was easy to solve. A letter from his solicitor this morning – it confirms he and his wife are now well and truly divorced. He clearly didn’t take it well; the paper is ripped to shreds. To make a journey at a time like that; it must be important. And poor Robert Acrimony wasn’t all that well off. The strap marks from his suitcase are littered with blisters and his hand has been under some strain – a faulty gear stick perhaps? Anybody with money wouldn’t put up with that. He had the dough to buy such luxuries in the first place, but it’s a lifestyle he can no longer afford. Now a journey to the valley would certainly have cost a lot and with limited resources like those; whatever he came here for was important to him.”

  “And that was drugs?” Lylith asked, kneeling down beside the corpse. Josiah nodded and lifted the man’s hand. The digits were short and stumpy, the fingernails torn into by the man’s ragged teeth. Behind each one sat a fine dust; crumbs beneath the broken skin. “See that? Drugs come in all sort of forms, but this is the most common. Bitter in taste, sour. I only had a bit to try, but already my mind is spinning – I’m as high as a kite right now Lylith!” He beamed.

  “…So he rushed down here.” Lylith White murmured. “Spent the last of his money to drive to Stonemoore and collect a hit of drugs.”

  “When he finally found them, he couldn’t wait to tear in.” Josiah concluded. “We never saw it on Roseanne Price because she was careful and took her time but Robert was hungry for a hit. He got some under those dirty fingernails of his, and look here; it’s dashed all over his lips.”

  “And of course he’d be desperate…” Lylith said. “He found out he was divorced this morning, drugs would be some kind of comfort surely-”

  Josiah looked at her and grinned. “Exactly! Miss White I hope you’re not trying to impress your way into an apprenticeship. My understudies are usually blonde. And octogenarian.” His shook his head. “But that’s not the most significant thing here. It’s not just the drugs; it’s the absence of them. We know they came in a plastic packet from the shreds beneath his fingers and yet I can see no bag, can you? Someone’s been back and taken it…”

  “Then that’s it!” Marcus Fraun exclaimed from behind. “The users like Roseanne and Robert get a taste of the drugs before the dealer comes, poisons them and gets away with the rest of the stash. The dealer keeps his money and only loses a bit of his stock every time. The perfect business plan.”

  “No…” Josiah moaned, ignoring the Chief Detector and walking in slow circles around the corpse, occasionally bending down to look at the earth beneath him. “No, no, no… Something about this is wrong. It’s not that simple. The symbol, the paint on the fingertips… I thought the dealer had tried to cover his tracks but the job was too poor for that, there are too many prints left in the dirt.”

  “So that means what exactly?” Rosin Ash queried.

  “Shut up you’re clogging up my mind!” Josiah exclaimed. “It was the same at the scene in the collection bay; the faintest print, too much left if they’d tried to cover it up, too little if they’d only just walked away... Yes!” He twisted on his feet, eyes wide with delight. “We just presumed the killer was there when the users died, we presumed he came to deliver the fatal blow but no, he had long since gone by then. The prints had faded over time!”

  “They weren’t killed by the dealer? Then they overdosed?” Lylith suggested.

  “No, I’d of smelt it. And even Miss Elisa Smith would have noticed that. The poison wasn’t in the drugs; it was delivered another way, long after our dealer had left…”

  “Josiah!” Lylith exclaimed suddenly, holding the dead man’s wrist in her hand. Josiah walked across the corpse, kneeling beside her in fascination. “Can you see?”

  “Yes…” Josiah drawled, running his hands across the skin. His fingers fell across two tiny red blemishes, almost invisible on his pasty flesh. “Those two pinpricks, exactly the same as Rosanne Price had-”

  “What’s this?” Marcus Fraun asked, walking slowly towards them. “Those marks; what are they?”

  “We don’t know but we’re getting close-”

  “Did you say they were the same as Rosanne Price’s?” Rosin Ash quizzed.

  “Yes, she had them too.” Josiah replied, standing from the corpse and leaning towards the wall. “But your Coroner never even spotted them. I’d take an ad out.”

  “No needle could be that small…” The Chief Detector pondered. “It’s like the marks those midges left that summer a few years back.”

  “Exactly.” Hartt murmured. Lylith noticed a glint in his. He looked up and began examining the gap beneath the house’s gutter with his fingertips. “I know what poisoned them because I saw it before. Hidden between the logs in the collection bay, I just thought it was normal, they’re everywhere after all. I didn’t think….”

  “What? What are you looking for?” Elisa Smith urged.

  Josiah turned around, his flat hand covered in long sticky string. “Cobwebs! It wasn’t poison left in the bag of drugs or force fed by the dealer – it was the most natural delivery method in the world. The bite of a spider.” He turned and pointed to the buildings tiny overhang. “This spider.”

  Josiah’s company leant in, following his finger towards the crack. Lylith White watched as he pulled out a jar from his pocket, pushing it towards the gap. “Do you usually carry around jam jars?” Lylith asked him.

  “I really like scones.” He said, tilting the brim of the glass forward. Slowly a small shadow emerged, creeping its way from the wall and across the icy glass. It scuttled down the jar, its arched abdomen pressing into the pot. Its skeleton was covered with an intricate yellow pattern and as it reached the base of the glass its eight legs wrapped around to face them, two wide pincers snapping open and snarling.

  “What is it?” Lylith asked slowly, reluctantly leaning in towards the jar; quivering in Josiah Hartt’s hand.

  “It’s a Repo Glacialis. Latin.” He began. “Roughly translated it means Ice Crawler. One of the most lethal spiders on planet Earth, a tiny poison sack hidden behind its pincers, one bite and the prey is left utterly defenceless. They don’t use them to hunt, it’s the last resort – use it too often and they’d end up dead as well. Once their work is done they leave their attacker to its superior predators. But they aren’t found here, these forests are way too dark, way too dense. The Repo Glacialis thrive in thick tropical rainforest, halfway around the world from here. Whoever’s doing this must have brought them in, all this way to take out Rosanne, Robert and other users like them...”

  “If the dealer already used two of those things, who knows how many he’s got?” Rosin Ash stammered. “And he just left them here? Half the village could get a bite!”

  The Field Specialist nodded. “Agreed. We need to get this bastard-”

  Josiah snorted. “Yeah, your concern is touching but the drug dealing maniac with the hatchery of poisonous spiders is the least of your worries...”

  “What? Did you not hear what you just said?” Lylith coughed.

  “Did you not hear me say there were two sets of footprints? We know the ones the dealer left when he planted the drugs have been blown away i
n the hours since he departed but what about this one-?” Josiah placed the jar on the ground and stooped beside another mark on the floor, covered by the shadows of the wall, the distinct shape of five toes and the base of a foot. “It’s too distinct to be left by the same person whose prints have now been blown away so it was left much later by another whose attempts to cover their tracks were foiled by this well placed shadow.”

  Marcus’ eyes lit up. “But this supports my other theory, that the drug dealer came back to retrieve the unfinished pack of drugs.”

  “The dealer had different sized feet, and this person was barefooted, he wasn’t. He never attempted to cover his tracks either, if it weren’t for the wind they’d still be fully formed right now. No these are other people, new people, here for an entirely different purpose. They came long after Robert Acrimony collapsed to the floor: they were the ones who took what was left of the bag of drugs. Didn’t you think it was odd poor Robert’s arms were neatly folded over his chest? Nobody dies like that, not even housewives. The second visitor came here and moved Robert from where he collapsed, then upon putting him back in position left him all tidy and neatly folded, probably couldn’t help themselves-”

  “But why come here, what did they want?” Rosin asked.

  “Well we know it wasn’t good: who but a badie would come across a dead body on the ground and not tell the detectors straight away? In fact I’d suggest they already knew there was going to be a body here before the dealer even painted that symbol upon the wall.” He broke off and shuffled along the ground, crouching right beside Robert’s corpse. “See this? He said, placing a hand on the disturbed earth. The soil looked relatively flat, but upon closer inspection tiny ripples could be seen. “Why would someone come to a crime scene? Whats the one thing that can be certain will happen to it?”