The Dark Place

by Sam Millar

  “I bet you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m simply saying that you’ve never approved of Ivana’s lifestyle.” Karl began grinning. “Perhaps if you give it a go, you’d feel differently towards Ivana.”

  The normally stoic Hicks looked momentarily knocked off balance. “If you saw the number of victims of sexually related diseases that I have, you wouldn’t be standing there grinning like a damn buffoon or taking such a deadly subject so lightly.”

  “Okay. Point taken,” conceded Karl, the grin slowly fading. “Shall we change the subject? Something less deadly?”

  “How’s Katie doing in Edinburgh?”

  “Seems to be settling in fine, though I hate the thought that she’s so far from home. I’m always worrying about her.”

  “Young people are very resilient, Karl. Believe it or not, we were young once,” stated Hicks, attempting a smile.

  “I can’t remember an old dinosaur like you ever being young. Even when we were in school together, you were old.”

  “Always tell Katie that her godfather is watching her progress. Who knows? She might even want to take over from me, when I retire.”

  “You’re like Cliff Richard. You’ll never retire,” replied Karl, quickly sidestepping the suggestion. The thought of his beloved Katie following in Hicks’s footsteps, chopping up the dead, held little appeal for Karl. “What can you tell me about the body found in the Black Mountain area, yesterday?”

  “Not much. I’m backlogged by almost four reports, so I’m badly behind schedule. I’ve no assistant to help me, due to more cutbacks, and I’m still examining a body of a young woman discovered last week near the city centre.”

  “I didn’t read about any body being found last week in the city centre,” said Karl, looking slightly puzzled.

  “Yes … well … this particular body was found in the vicinity of Victoria Square.”

  “That new shopping centre?”

  “Yes.”

  “And? Why wasn’t it reported?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine; but let’s just say I’m becoming almost as cynical as you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “They spent what? Almost a billion, or close to, on building Victoria Square? The city council apparently spent almost three hundred thousand advertising its importance for the city. Do you think it would look good discovering a body two days before the grand opening, one street away from their field of dreams?”

  Karl’s face reddened slightly. “Bastards … so it was all hushed-up in the interests of the caviar and champagne brigade?”

  “Those are your words, not mine.”

  “Nice bunch of scumbags we have running this great town of ours,” responded Karl, removing the photo of Martina before handing it to Hicks. “I’m searching for this young girl. Her name’s Martina Ferris. I’m hoping you tell me it isn’t her whose body was discovered in the Black Mountain or the city centre.”

  “I’m still working on the reports and waiting on dental records,” said Hicks, studying the photo. “Her left eye. What happened?”

  “Lost it to a pen wound, a few years back.”

  “Definitely not the body in the city centre.”

  “Why?”

  “No indication of an eye replacement,” said Hicks, reaching for a beige-coloured folder and extracting a single page from a family of others. “Having said that, there are similarities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Female. Sixteen or seventeen years of age. Officers at the scene wrongly classified her hair as red, when in fact it was blonde.”

  “Had it been dyed? Martina could be classified as a punk, from her photo.”

  “No. Not dyed. So much blood had escaped from the head wound, transforming it into strawberry red.”

  “Horrible …”

  “It gets worse. Parts of her insides were missing, surgically removed.”

  Karl’s face knotted slightly. “What? You’re saying someone murdered her for body parts?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “You think someone’s selling the parts on the black market?”

  “Initially, yes. But only the liver and kidneys are missing.” Hicks rubbed his red, sore-looking eyes before continuing. “Are you familiar with the word ‘vorarephilia’?”

  “If it isn’t in Kid’s Scrabble, I haven’t heard of it. I suspect you knew that before you asked. Showing off again.”

  “Vorarephilia is the sexual attraction to being eaten by, or eating another person. It’s also known as phagophilia or simply called vore for short.”

  Karl made a face. “I thought that was cannibalism.”

  “Cannibals eat for survival and tribal domination – not sexual perversion,” corrected Hicks. “The fact that the kidneys and liver alone have been removed is an indication – though not conclusively – of possible vorarephilia. The word ‘vorarephilia’ is derived from the Latin vorare, swallow or devour, and the Ancient Greek word philia, meaning love.”

  “How sick is that? You really believe that this is some sort of ritual killing for sexual gratification?”

  “We may only ever find that out if the killer is apprehended and confesses. Other than that, it’s an educated guess. There was one glaring inconsistency, though.”

  “What?”

  “Her body weight.”

  “What about it?”

  “Not enough calcium to support the fat contents of a normally developed body.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Karl.

  “Accelerated formation of cells and protein.”

  “In layman’s terms?”

  “The young girl’s body was carrying too much weight for the skeletal system to support. Similar to placing a ton of metal on a cardboard box. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed.” Hicks began hitting a few keys on the computer’s keyboard, and suddenly the screen transformed from black and white text to a colourful three-dimensional illustration. “This is the skeletal system. Look inside this bone. See how it works?”

  Karl studied the screen, the open bone and the traffic of colours mixing with coded lineage references.

  “What exactly am I looking at, Tom?”

  Hicks sighed impatiently. “Bones are composed of tissue that may take one of two forms. Compact or dense bone; and spongy or cancellous bone. Most bones contain both types. Compact bone is dense, hard, and forms the protective exterior portion of all bones. Spongy bone is inside the compact bone and is very porous. Spongy bone occurs in most bones. The bone tissue is composed of several types of bone cells embedded in a web of inorganic salts, mostly calcium and phosphorus, to give the bone strength, and collagenous fibres and ground substance to give the bone flexibility.”

  “And …?”

  “It takes time for bone build-up. Nature is very patient, knowing calcium can only accommodate precise weight-values through longevity. However, the bones of the young girl were fooled into believing they were strong enough to withstand this sudden impact of alien matter suddenly thrust upon them. What should have taken years was accomplished in days, possibly weeks.”

  “She was thin, then suddenly became fat?”

  “That’s not very PC, and it’s certainly not how I would phrase it, but yes.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t exactly know. I’ve sent some of the bone and skin tissues to Queen’s. Professor Ashley Kelly at the science lab is looking at them as we speak. Hopefully, she’ll have an answer soon.”

  “If that is how she died, why the horrendous blow to the head?”

  “Possibly a hate-induced frenzy. The killer wasn’t satisfied with simply murdering the victim, he wanted – or needed – mutilation as well, probably thinking that if –”

  Hicks suddenly stopped speaking, tilting his head slightly.

  “What? What is it?” asked Karl.

  “The lift. Someone’s coming down. I thi
nk you’d better leave now, in case it’s Wilson’s new man looking for a report on the young girl.”

  “You think I’m frightened of Wilson?”

  “You? No! Not you. Everyone knows how tough you are.”

  “No need to be so sarcastic.”

  “In case it’s slipped your mind, I’ve got to work here.”

  “Will you keep me informed of any developments concerning the body in Black Mountain?”

  “Yes! But go – now. Use the back entrance.”

  The lift door opened just as Karl walked by. A fresh-faced young man stepped from the lift, staring.

  Karl stared back.

  “How’s it going?” asked the young man, smiling.

  Karl glanced at the anxious face of Hicks before answering.

  “Not too bad. Haven’t seen you about before. You must be new, Detective …?” said Karl, extending his hand.

  “How did you know I was a detective?”

  “I didn’t, but I do now,” smiled Karl.

  “Detective Chambers. Malcolm Chambers.” The young detective’s smile broadened as he shook Karl’s hand. “Only been on the job for a week, but already I feel like a veteran. I’m working for Detective Inspector Mark Wilson. Do you know him?”

  Karl nodded. “I’ve heard of him. A bit of a legend, apparently. They say he’s one of the best detectives in town.”

  “You got that right,” beamed Chambers. “You part of the pathologist team?”

  “Not really. I’m from … the private sector.”

  “I didn’t catch your name?”

  “I didn’t throw it,” replied Karl. “No doubt I’ll be bumping into you in the future, Detective Chambers. Take care.”

  Outside, Karl was about to climb into his car when a voice asked, “Still driving that old piece of shit, Kane? Thought I recognised it.”

  Karl turned to see Edward Phillips, one of Wilson’s ex-detectives, walking towards him.

  For a second, Karl thought about getting in the car, simply driving off. Instead, he decided to stand his ground.

  “I heard you’d retired, Phillips.”

  Phillips stopped directly beside Karl, eyeballing him.

  “Retire like my old pals Bulldog and Cairns? You wish, Kane.”

  There was a strong stench of whiskey escaping from Phillips’s mouth, and Karl immediately regretted not getting in the car and leaving. He had heard the rumours of Phillips’s dismissal from the force two months ago, accused of shaking down drug dealers and pimps in the north of the city. He wondered what the hell Phillips was doing at headquarters?

  “Well, I’d love to reminisce with you, Phillips, but have to go,” said Karl, easing into the car.

  “Can’t you take a joke, Kane? What happened to your sense of humour?”

  “Have to check my drawers when I get home. Could’ve left it there.”

  “Ha! That’s more like the Kane I remember,” said Phillips, removing a half bottle of Bushmills whiskey, taking one long slug before offering it to Karl.

  “No thanks. That Irish puts hairs on a man’s chest. I just had a Brazilian done on mine.”

  The joke was lost on Phillips, who asked, “How’s that sour-faced brother-in-law of yours doing?”

  “Oh, you know him. That sour face never sweetens. Must be all that power he has, being the famous detective inspector.”

  “You can say that again, that I know him,” replied Phillips, tapping the side of his nose twice before winking at Karl. “In fact, I’m going in right now to see old Sour Puss, to remind him that I know him. If that bastard thinks he can kick me out of the force without my retirement pension, he’s got another think coming. Too many secrets stored up here in the old noggin.” Phillips tapped the side of his head, and winked again.

  “Secrets? What kind of secrets?” asked Karl, suddenly interested.

  “Don’t be smart, Kane. They wouldn’t be secrets any more if I told you, would they now?”

  “No. I guess you’re right,” replied Karl, grinning. “And there’s me trying to be smart again. Never seems to work when dealing with cops.”

  “Cops are different from the rest of you mere mortals, Kane. Most of us believe that we are in a life and death struggle against everyone else, and we’re all in it together.” Phillips swayed drunkenly before continuing. “Being a cop requires us to be members of a union, a union forged of blood, governed by laws that go beyond the laws that govern the rest of you. It’s hard to go against that union. It’s also dangerous.”

  “Look, I really do have to go, Phillips,” said Karl, no longer willing to listen to Phillips’s incoherent blabbering.

  “Ever hear of the King David Syndrome?”

  “Can’t say I have. Why?”

  “Tell you what. I’ll do a deal with you. I don’t get my pension, you get my secrets concerning our very own King fucking David. How’s that? And I’ll even make sure my solicitor posts them to you, should an unfortunate accident happen to me.”

  “What are you talking about, unfortunate accident? What kind of unfortunate accident?”

  “Accidents always seem to happen when you don’t have insurance. But both you and I have insurance. Don’t we, Kane? The trick is, make sure that your insurance policy is up-to-date.” Another mysterious wink. “I always liked you, Kane, despite what the others thought of you. You’re not the fool you pretend to be.”

  “I appreciate your encouraging words, Phillips,” said Karl, closing the car door, rolling down the window. “Those are the kind of compliments that make my day.”

  “See you about, Kane,” waved Phillips, staggering towards the entrance before disappearing.

  “What I would give to be a fly on Wilson’s wall,” whispered Karl, starting the car and driving away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “… the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.”

  Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

  “It looks like it’s going to be a cracker of a day,” said Karl, buttering toast for breakfast the next morning, while glancing out the window at the early morning sun licking over the grey city centre rooftops.

  “Yes,” agreed Naomi, looking up from the magazine in her hands. “They said all this week should be good.”

  “One or two slices?”

  “One, please.” From the magazine, Naomi removed an envelope. “I’ve something to ask you, Karl, but first you must promise not to be mad.”

  “Too late. I already am mad. You know by now that I make the Hatter look sane,” said Karl, his lips smiling but his eyes the opposite as they settled on the envelope. “Hmm. That looks vaguely familiar.”

  “I … this morning I was going through old magazines to dump and came across this letter in an old shoebox. I opened it by mistake …”

  “That pert little nose of yours always grows when you’re fibbing.”

  “Well … I sort of let curiosity get the better of me.”

  “Remember what happened to Lot’s wife? Go on. Ask what you’re going to ask. Don’t keep me in suspenders.”

  “It’s the title deeds to a house. This house, I suppose,” said Naomi, producing an old black and white photo, holding it out for Karl to examine.

  “Ten out of ten. Next question, please.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you owned a big house in the country?”

  “Technically speaking, it’s my father’s. I have what’s called enduring power of attorney, because my father is incapable by reason of mental disorder of managing and administering his property and affairs. Knowing he’s probably never going to get better, I guess the house is mine. Though I’ll probably never see the inside of that place again.”

  “Why do you say that? It really looks the part. I’d love to go and have a look at it,” replied Naomi, smiling. “Our own place in the country. Sounds good to me.”

  “It’s where my mother was murdered and I was attacked, left for dead,” said Karl matt
er-of-factly.

  Naomi looked stunned. “Oh my God, Karl … I … I’m so sorry … how could I have been so stupid?” Seconds later, tears were streaming down her face.

  Sitting down on the sofa, Karl put his arms around her. “I’ve been trying to persuade Dad into moving out of that care home he’s currently residing in. I was hoping he would move in with us, some time in the future, once we get a bigger place.”

  “What … what did he say?”

  Karl sighed. “When I visited him last week, he threw a shoe at me, screaming I was a burglar and a murderer. He tried grabbing a pair of scissors while leaping at me, saying he was going to protect his son.”

  “Oh my God, Karl.”

  “The staff finally managed to sedate him. It was heartbreaking to watch. I feel so guilty about where he is, even though it’s probably the best place he could be, with his mental problems. He was never the same after my mother was murdered. He’s a broken shell of the man I knew when I was growing up, as a kid.”

  “My poor Karl,” said Naomi.

  “What’s with the tears?” he said, kissing the side of her head.

  “I brought back all those bad memories,” she sniffed, wiping her nose and eyes on his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You didn’t bring back anything. They’re always there; always following me, everywhere I go.”

  This piece of information only encouraged the tears to come even faster. “Oh, Karl …”

  “Stop crying, Naomi. Please … you know I don’t like to see you crying. Come on. Give me a smile,” he soothed.

  She attempted one. Failed.

  “Call that a smile? Look, perhaps we can go. Perhaps there’d be no better way to exorcise my childhood demons than facing them, head on. What do you think?”

  “No,” sniffed Naomi, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to torture yourself. I’m going to put the deeds somewhere safe. When you’re ready, we’ll go. But only when you’re ready.”

  He kissed her chin. And then her mouth, whispering, “Soon. Soon I’ll be ready. Now, you still haven’t told me what you bought Ivana for her birthday tonight.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot. Let me show –”