Cut Down To Size: A Sebastian Cork Novel

by Neal Davies

  Sebastian’s eyes look fixedly at Cameron. “Are you saying the killer is knocking the victims out with a date drug?”

  Cameron tightens his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Seb. Ketamine is a disassociate anaesthetic that impacts on the central nervous system. The effects begin within ten to twenty minutes and rapists like it because it can induce some memory loss. Other symptoms can incorporate slurred speech, breathing problems, dissociation, paranoia and hallucinations. In this instance, I think it was the liquid form of the drug as there were traces of it in a sports energy drink we tested from the contents of his stomach.”

  There’s a prolonged silence as Sebastian gives the matter his earnest consideration.

  “Are you still with me Seb?”

  “Yes, this is very informative. It tells me the killer, either needed to know or be in close vicinity of the victim in order to give him the drug without creating suspicion and I have a good idea where it may have been given to him without his knowledge.”

  “From what you are saying, Cameron, the perpetrator would have a very limited timeframe to ensure they were alone with the victim after the drug had been consumed. As you pointed out, ten to twenty minutes would be all the time the killer had to get our victim away from prying eyes and into a vehicle and that’s no easy task in itself. Someone walking from a bar with a staggering man may be acceptable but from anywhere else, bystanders would ask questions and that’s something the killer would want to avoid at all costs.”

  Cameron raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little, Seb? I mean what makes you think the victim wasn’t leaving the bar? After all, I never said there wasn’t any alcohol in his system.”

  Sebastian lounges back confidently, crosses his arms, bites gently on his bottom lip and replies, “Two reasons, my friend; firstly, I have seen enough to convince me this young man was in training at the time of his demise and that he competed at the highest level; from my brief experience as a sports psychologist, I would find it difficult to believe that an athlete of his calibre would frequent a bar while preparing for a major event. Secondly, you said yourself the drug was induced by way of a sports drink; how many bars do you know serve an athlete-grade energy drink?”

  Cameron smiles and respectfully answers, “There is no doubt you’re going to serve us all well here, Seb. I’m sorry I haven’t got more time to talk but I really must get back into it”

  Sebastian heads back upstairs and on his way to the Dust Pit he catches a glimpse of Paul weaving in and out of the other detectives’ desks.

  “Good morning, Seb. Did you sleep well?”

  Sebastian’s lips curl in an indignant manner, “If that was an attempt at sarcasm and you actually meant ‘did I snore?’ the answer is no! I didn’t!”

  Paul waves his head from one side to the other with his eyes half shut. “Come on, Seb! It’s a new day and I was actually being sincere. Anyway, I got you this on my way in.” Paul hands him a coffee and they both sit down at the desk.

  “Well! I must say, Paul, this really is a delightful coffee.”

  Sebastian relays what the Coroner has concluded about the sedative in the sports drink.

  “We really need to pay a visit to Michael’s gym and I was thinking that we might get more achieved if you operate undercover and I investigate openly for the Police. Once or twice a week, we can meet up here to discuss our progress. If you’re happy with my idea, I will arrange an interview first thing tomorrow with the gym owner and, if I’m convinced he has had nothing to do with the murders, I will request he treat you as he would any other patron. I thought you might pop up the corridor and speak to Jim about our plans.” Sebastian suggests.

  Paul screws the corner of his mouth up thoughtfully and unwittingly mimics Sebastian by crossing his arms as well. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go and have a word with him now.”

  When Sebastian turns his phone on he receives a barrage of messages from Cynthia asking him to ring her as soon as possible.

  “Hello, my love. I am so sorry I haven’t got back to you. I was called into the Coroner’s office as soon as I arrived and I turned off my phone and forgot to turn it back on. I am so sorry.”

  There is complete silence at the other end.

  “Hello Cynthia, are you there? Hello Cynthia, are you alright?” He glances down at his phone and can see she hasn’t hung up, so he begins to panic.

  “Cynthia, are you okay?”

  The silence is finally broken with sarcasm. “I’m fine why? Did you worry because I didn’t answer?”

  Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he exhales strongly from his nose and his tone becomes stern, “Thankyou Cynthia, I am really pleased you accepted my apology. Now how can I be of service?”

  “It’s my turn to apologise Seb. I began to worry when you didn’t answer my calls. I even contacted Jim to see if you were there.”

  “Apology accepted my love and I will try not to be so absent minded in the future. Now what is it that was so urgent?”

  Cynthia pauses. “Last night you asked me to find out who owns the property and I know you’re going to be surprised when I tell you it was recently purchased by Steve Cohen, Mike Cohen’s father.”

  Sebastian’s eyes become sharp, “Surely you’re not still playing games with me are you, Cynthia?”

  “Not at all, I’m very serious!”

  He quietly weighs up this new information. “Well, this is certainly putting the cat among the pigeons. I am going to need some time to consider what strategies to put in place. For a start if he is alerted to the fact that we know about this and that he has had something to do with his son’s demise, then he will be more on his guard when answering questions. I think I will do a little more delving before we open Pandora’s Box. Thank you for this information, my love; it’s given me a lot to think about.”

  “You’re welcome Seb. While I have you I was wondering if you are going to be home late tonight. If you are, I will hold off on dinner.”

  “No-no, I will be home at the usual time.”

  “Alright; I will let you go now and I will see you when you get home.”

  Just as he hangs up, Paul enters enthusiastically. “We’ve got the go ahead of Jim, Seb! Oh, by the way, Jim asked me to let you know, Cynthia has been trying to call you.”

  Sebastian explains about his phone being off and Paul intuitively feels there is something more bothering Sebastian.

  “What’s going on Seb you seem out of sorts; is Cynthia alright?”

  Sebastian fills Paul in on the new information he has just received.

  “That sounds a bit suspicious don’t you think. Perhaps we should return to the Cohen’s house and ask some questions.”

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions Paul. Mike may have been visiting the site when he was murdered and his father may still be oblivious that it possibly occurred on his property. We need to go about the investigation the way we planned. If he has got something to do with his son’s murder we need to take him by surprise. The only way to do that is to eliminate other suspects.”

  More things can be hidden, both consciously and sub-consciously, when someone is confronted with hard facts but if one behaves in a manner that avoids confrontation, then the information becomes overt to the enquirer.”

  Paul listens intently. “As much as I can grasp the concept of what you’re telling me, Seb, it will take some time to put it into practice. I will have to unlearn all the interrogation methods used in the Special Services as well as what I have been taught since joining the force. So you will have to be patient with me.”

  Sebastian smiles. “Whatever you do, Paul, don’t unlearn anything. Everything we are taught in life serves a purpose if used at the appropriate time and put in its proper perspective.”

  The rest of the day is spent ploughing through files and photos and ringing friends and relatives of the victims.

  The drive home is routine apart from a quick call from Cameron who fills him in with a f
ew facts that he had already considered. Sebastian walks through the door and hears a faint voice from down the hallway, “I’m here in the study, Seb.” So he hangs his coat, places his walking stick in the hallstand and makes his way to where his wife awaits him.

  Cynthia is sipping on a sherry while luxuriously relaxed across the chair. She has one leg dangling over the cushioned arm and the other framed upward, supporting her book. They give each other the customary welcoming kiss. “Dinner is on the table. I will be out as soon as I finish the last few lines.”

  He stands there with an amused smile, pleased to see her so relaxed. It takes him back to their days at university when she would sit under a tree reading and he would secretly admire her from a distance. “If it’s okay with you, I might have bourbon and relax before dinner, my love.” She glances up and gives him a beguiling smile and then buries her thoughts back into her book.

  It’s a cool night so Sebastian moves quietly to the fireplace, turns up the heat and then fixes himself a drink. It’s not long before the bourbon and the warmth of the room sees him fast asleep in his more than comfortable chair.

  7. VISIT TO THE GYM – FRIDAY

  It’s pitch black in the bedroom when the alarm sounds at five the following morning and, in slapping it – hard –Sebastian knocks the clock clean off his bedside table. His drowsy awareness is now bright and alert, as he flings himself onto the shag pile carpet and searches on hands and knees for the clock’s red flashing figures. “Ah, there you are, you slippery little devil!” he extends his arm under the bed but his efforts are to no avail. The clock has somehow twisted its cord around the leg of the bed and Cynthia is awoken from a deep sleep by the constant buzzing, which is penetrating her every nerve cell.

  “Sebastian, can’t you turn that blasted thing off!” she scowls and then buries her nose into the pillow, clenching it up to her ears in two fists.

  “I’m bloody well trying, woman! Please give me a break; I can’t reach it!”

  “Just pull the bloody plug out of the wall!” Cynthia says in a muffled reply.

  Sebastian, now panicking, yanks on the cord and the bedside lamp comes crashing down on his head, “Ow, shit! Shit! Ow shit, shit, shit!” he says, as he sits back on his calves, while rapidly rubbing his head with one hand and holding the lamp in the other.

  Cynthia hurtles out of bed like a springbok being pursued by a starving lion and turns off the offending alarm at the plug, snatches the lamp from his hand and puts it back on the bedside table. “Goodness gracious, Sebastian! The one day I get to sleep in and you do this to me. Now can you go and have your shower so I can get back to sleep?”

  Sebastian mumbles a few choice words under his breath while pushing the sleep from his right eye with his index finger. After the rough start to his morning, he appreciates the soothing warmth of the water as it gently massages his emotional and physical aches and pains down the drain and he unwillingly departs from his comforting enclosure. Alert and ready for a new day he dresses and moves stealthily downstairs to the kitchen, turns on the percolator and looks at the clock, only to realise he is still ahead of schedule. Sebastian, knowing Cynthia is asleep upstairs; figures one hearty breakfast won’t ruin his diet too much. He opens the fridge, stands there smiling for a few seconds and then pulls out two big rashers of bacon, an onion and two eggs. Once the pan is sizzling he pours himself a coffee and sips away as he merrily flips his eggs. The aroma of frying bacon and onions fills the air and he is just about to plate up when the front doorbell chimes.

  “Paul, you’re early! What’s up?” Sebastian says with a concerned look.

  “Nothing at all, Seb. I had to drop Chelsea off at the airport so rather than go back home, I thought I’d come here. You don’t mind, do you? I can go for a drive if you would rather I come back later.”

  Sebastian gives a tight-lipped grin. “Actually, I put a little extra breakfast on this morning in case you did call in. Are you hungry?”

  “You bet!” Paul bounces into the kitchen like an eager puppy. “Where’s Cynthia this morning?”

  Sebastian glances up from the frypan as he dishes up the meal. “She is having a well-deserved sleep in.”

  “Good for her. I don’t mean this rudely, Seb, but she looked a little worn the other day,” Paul replies sincerely. No sooner the food is on the plate they scoff it down in record time and head for the car.

  Paul looks back. “Where’s your cane?”

  Sebastian stops dead in his tracks and throws his head upwards, “Bugger! No time to go back now; I will just have to leave it today,”

  Paul turns his head to one side. “I don’t think so, Seb. I was told by Cynthia to make sure you carried it wherever you go. She convinced me it had saved your bacon on more than one occasion. Is that right?”

  Sebastian waves his head like an unsettled stallion. “Yes but we are going to a bloody gym! Who in god’s good name takes a cane to a bloody gym?”

  Paul opens the palms of both hands. “Sorry, Seb, but I would rather face the Commissioner on a disciplinary matter than Cynthia.”

  Sebastian rolls his eyes upwards – “I see your point!” –So he retrieves his cane and they leave without any further ado.

  As they flow over one of the higher hills on the way to the gym, they get a bird’s eye view of how the city buildings dwarf and overshadow the rows of trees and shrubs that line the dank streets. Unlike the vivid greens and golds of those that grow on the outskirts of town, they have become pale and discoloured by the dust and exhaust fumes that spew’s out of the traffic that hurtles past.

  Paul pulls the car across from the gym in an inconspicuous spot and both men don their overcoats upon alighting; it has been a bitter winter and the start of spring sees an array of weather from freezing cold mornings to sunny and wet days and this is one of those days most people would prefer to spend indoors, in front of a warm fire.

  The gym sits perfectly placed amongst trendy cafés that line both sides of the street, and Sebastian and Paul enjoy the atmosphere created by the bitterly cold morning and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee which wafts toward them tantalizing their senses. Paul stands for a brief moment with his eyes closed, pushes out his chin and inhales deeply.

  Sebastian notices his dreamy expression. “It isn’t hard to tell that coffee is a source of infinite delight to you, Paul,” Sebastian groans sarcastically.

  “You better believe it, Seb! How did people ever survive without it?” he replies with little interest in how Sebastian perceives his overwhelming enjoyment.

  Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Well I know one thing for sure; they didn’t die of bloody pneumonia! Now are you going to lock the car so I can go into the gym before I catch my death?”

  “Ah, no. Actually I’m not. It seems to me that you may have left something lying across the rear seat. Oh, what do you know? It looks like your cane!”

  Sebastian sends a heavy mist billowing from his mouth. “For goodness sakes, man, we have already left the house and Cynthia will see it’s not in the hallstand, so what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her!”

  Paul grimaces. “Sorry Seb. She might not know but I gave her my word. You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word now, would you? I mean, you are old enough to make your own decisions and I can’t force you into taking it but I would have to let Cynthia know.”

  Sebastian seethes and his eyes bounce rapidly from one side to the other in frustration. After a defiant moment, he lets out another gust of mist, opens the rear door and snatches his cane from the seat. “Great! I’m taking a bloody cane into a gym, how very novel of me. And to top it off, I now have a bloody giant nursemaid who is under instructions from my wife!”

  Paul smiles warmly. “Thanks, Seb, I do appreciate it. Now if you just take in a whiff of that wonderful aroma, you will feel so much better.” He gracefully waves his right hand toward Seb’s nose.

  “Well, I can’t imagine what you will be doing while I’m in humiliating myself at the gy
m. Oh, wait a minute! I think I have just had a bolt from the blue! Correct me if I’m wrong but you are about to partake in a hot cup of coffee? And with any luck, it’ll burn your lips so bad they will swell up and look like the rear end of a baboon!”

  Paul ignores his sarcasm. “More than coffee!” he replies gleefully.

  Sebastian looks angrily where Paul is pointing at a sign that reads, ‘9AM TO 10 AM BUFFET BREAKFAST & BOTTOMLESS COFFEE $10.00 TODAY ONLY’. He turns, his brow folded and eyes squinted. “What the heck is up with you, man? Have you got worms?”

  Unperturbed, Paul grins. “Gotta do something while you’re in there… and look at the price! When are you going to get a deal like that again?”

  Sebastian throws his eyes to the sky and storms toward the gym. As his feet hit the pavement on the far side of the road, he hears cooing but can’t work out where it’s coming from until he reaches a narrow alleyway next to the gym; a flock of a dozen or so pigeons startle Sebastian by wheeling in the early morning silence, wings flapping. An eerie buzzing sound fades as they take to the air for the ledges that protrude from higher buildings. Sebastian looks back to see if Paul had seen him shy in shock but he’s already halfway to his ten dollar breakfast. No one else is in sight; he takes a deep breath and continues on his way.

  It has been years since Sebastian has visited any type of fitness or training facility, and even then by invitation from the Olympic Coach, so he looks more than a little awkward with his coat bunched in one hand and a walking stick, in the other. Just to top it off, a jacket and tie aren’t exactly perfect gym attire either. Small details like these never really deter Sebastian as his thoughts are solidly focused on the job at hand. Even though he has mellowed and has become a little less self-conscious in recent times, his early, embedded beliefs still linger. His issue with the cane is more about being told what he must do rather than how he looks. How others perceive him is irrelevant; he contemplates such thinking as shallow conceptions of an idle mind; his own head is so occupied with other things there’s no room for what he sees as wasted thoughts.