13 Degrees of Separation

by Hechtl, Chris

  “We'll see,” Draskin growled, stomping off. O'shee looked sad and dismayed at his partner. He shrugged helplessly and followed in his wake.

  “Bobby...” Magnum sighed and shook his head.

  “So much for that,” Nohar said. He turned to Magnum. “Any ideas on the killer?”

  “I didn't get a good look at the scene before they chased me off,” Magnum admitted.

  Nohar frowned and pulled up a map of the area. He zoomed in as tight as the map would allow. The image was heavily pixilated, but he had an approximate street view. He oriented on it with their location and then pointed to where the coroner's van was. “Here?” he asked.

  “No here,” Magnum pointed to an alleyway. “You can't see it from this, but that alley slopes down from the street level. There is a low wooden fence there to prevent people from falling down it. Dirt of course, no one paid to pave it.”

  “So, someone got the cat, dragged her down there... or did they snap her neck and toss her body down there? How did she die? Where? Is this the primary crime scene or is there another?” he asked. He looked up, remembering something, something he'd forgotten to do, a vital chore. He started to scan the crowd. He caught sight of a flash of purple tinted fur on the other side of the crime scene rounding a corner and snarled. The fur was about two meters up, right where a mane would be.... a mane on a male lion.

  “Draskin!” he snarled, pointing. Draskin and O'shee looked up. He pointed urgently, starting to move. “Suspect!” he said, tucking the precious computer into his bag as he picked up speed. Magnum muttered an oath and started running beside him.

  A cop held out his hands and stopped them at the crime scene tape. Draskin however had picked up his urgency and smacked his partner and another cop. Both trotted to the corner. They drew their weapons and looked as the tiger and human PI argued and craned their necks to see. Finally Draskin shook his head and came back, looking disgusted.

  “There is no one there,” he growled.

  “There was! A purple tinted mane!” Nohar said, pulling out his optical cable and plugging it into the port on the side of his eye implant. Draskin paled and looked away. His partner though looked fascinated.

  Nohar plugged the other end into the computer and pulled up a visual. It was blurry, but he'd gotten just a hint of purple tinted fur. “See?” he demanded, turning the computer to show them the still.

  Draskin wasn't looking. He spat, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “See what? Blur?”

  “No, he's right,” O'shee said excitedly. “Remember what you said about the criminal going back to the scene of the crime Rob?” he asked.

  “He's right,” Magnum said. “Serial killers did. They loved the attention, gloated over it. Same with fire bugs, they'd set a fire and then sit back and watch it burn. They get off on this shit, sick bastards,” he growled. He pointed to the screen. “I'm betting that's our guy.”

  “And all we've got is him at the crime scene,” Draskin said with a shrug. He turned back to look at the corner.

  “If you'd listened and laid off the donuts you might have had more,” Nohar sighed in disgust. And if you're goons hadn't stopped us I might of gotten more. "Come on, " he said, flipping the laptop closed and unplugging it from his implant. He tucked both into his bag and walked around the crime scene tape.

  “Where are we going?” O'shee asked following him. Magnum did as well. Draskin turned, ducking back under the tape.

  “To the corner, I want to smell it,” Nohar said.

  “Smell...”

  “Yeah,” he replied. He took a whiff and then coughed. “Someone likes cologne too much,” he snarled.

  “Sorry, the ladies love it,” Magnum muttered. He stopped.

  “Yeah, you stay there,” Nohar growled.

  He scented the corner, found where someone had been standing. Definitely neolion. He silently pointed to hair fibers caught in the rough stucco on the corner. “Someone had moved around the corner fast, pretty tight to the corner to have them there.”

  “Yeah,” O'shee said, pushing him back and snapping blue latex gloves on. He pulled and evidence bag out of his pocket and a pair of tweezers and started taking samples. Nohar pocketed one as well, wrapping it in a napkin.

  “You really think it's our killer?” O'shee asked.

  “I'm pretty sure it's a viable suspect. A neolion, here, at a crime scene, and when I spotted him he bolted.

  “An act of a guilty conscious?” Draskin asked. Nohar turned. He hadn't noted the big human's approach.

  “Not evidence I suppose, but if we could get him you could see if he had trace evidence under his claws or on him. An ultraviolet light would illuminate any blood spatter on his fur or clothing,” Nohar said.

  “True,” Draskin said. “Your pretty good at this. I thought you were another amateur,” he said, glancing at Magnum.

  “Training,” Nohar growled.

  “If we had a suspect we could sweat him,” O'shee said from his crouch.

  “Only one problem, Neo's don't sweat,” Nohar sighed.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning Nohar found not only Magnum, but also a tired Draskin and O'shee waiting in the lobby. The three humans nodded and Draskin announced loudly that he was going out to breakfast.

  They found a diner around the corner. The human proprietor wasn't too enthused about seating Nohar, but Draskin flashed his badge and she relented without a word. She did however later mutter about how she'd better get a big tip out of this.

  Draskin and O'shee ordered omelets. Magnum ordered fruit. Nohar ordered sausage and bacon, a pile of it. He sat back, uncomfortable in the booth but aware something was up. Silently O'shee put a 2 centimeter thick manila folder onto the Formica table and pushed it over to them.

  Draskin didn't look, just commented about the local little league's chances of winning the continental finals. Nohar took the hint, ignoring Magnum's snort. He flipped the folder around and then sent a mental command to his implants to record.

  He flipped through it rapidly, not really paying attention to details, just hitting the high points. When he was finished with every page, including the rather gruesome crime scene photos and sketches he passed it to Magnum. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry though.

  “Missing persons aren't in that,” he muttered.

  “You kidding me? We've got enough unsolved as it is,” Draskin muttered.

  “Yeah well, I think they should be included. And the accidents should be re-opened,” Nohar said.

  “Oh you do eh?” Draskin asked.

  Nohar pulled up his laptop and plugged his implant in again. He dumped the scan, watching it flutter into the file, and then hit his correlating script. It would cross reference everything in the report with what he already had. But he pulled up the accident reports anyway.

  “If they are dead, where are the bodies?” Draskin demanded. Magnum muttered a curse as he got to the crime scene photos. He gulped, turning a bit pale. Draskin looked at him briefly. “Hey, you asked for it,” he said.

  “Remember when we led you out to the tunnel?” Nohar asked.

  “Yeah?” Draskin asked, turning to him.

  “How many of those bodies are in the missing persons report?” Nohar asked.

  “Um...”

  “Good question actually,” O'shee said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Still, not many bodies there,” Draskin said.

  “Unless he ate them all,” O'shee said softly. Draskin flinched. “Think about it, if he turned total cannibal, he wouldn't go to a restaurant or store. He'd be completely off grid. Some of the people were robbed, but the later vics weren't. That fits...”

  “Right. But there are way too many people gone to fill one larder you know,” Draskin said.

  “So, we look for an overflow,” Nohar said. “One we missed,” he said as the food arrived.

  Magnum took one look and turned green. He pushed his plate away. “Not me,” he muttered, hand going to hi
s head. He didn't even want his coffee anymore either, nearly knocking it over.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Outside the diner, Draskin adjusted his belt and waist line and looked over to a still green Magnum. “Wus,” he growled.

  “Yeah well...” Magnum shrugged.

  “Yeah well, nothing. You just saw the pics. You didn't get to see most of that in person,” he growled.

  “Did you look into the water deaths?” Nohar asked.

  “Water...”

  “The flume,” Nohar said. “22 deaths there in under a year? When there have been only 2 in a century? Seriously... guys, come on now,” he said spreading his hands. His right arm jerked a little. He grimaced but got it under control.

  “Yeah,” O'shee said, eying the arm warily. “I see what you mean. Something's definitely off there,” he said, looking at his partner.

  “Yeah,” Draskin admitted. “That's screwy, one or two I can figure, but 22?”

  “That's just the ones we know about,” Magnum said. “We counted a lot more crosses in that area. We told you guys and the game wardens at the tunnel.”

  “And we didn't listen. Now we are,” Draskin said, tucking the folder under one arm. “So, what do you want, us to look into them? We don't have the manpower. Or time. If this guy stays to profile he'll kill again by sundown or just after,” he growled.

  “Yeah,” Magnum sighed. “There is that.”

  “Let me nose around a bit. Anyone report any strange smells in the city lately?” Nohar asked. “Insect sign where there shouldn't be any?” he asked.

  A woman standing nearby turned. “You mean like behind the garden? I told them those bugs weren't supposed to be there! And the flies! Just dreadful!” she said waving a hand as if to shoo them away.

  “Flies huh?” Nohar asked, looking meaningfully to the two cops.

  “Ah shit,” Draskin sighed. “Another long damn day,” he muttered. He turned to the woman. “Garden lady?”

  “The community garden,” she said as if they should have known. She pointed a withered hand down the street. “I just came from there. I take my usual morning walk there. But the flies are just horrid this morning!” she said.

  “Crap,” Draskin sighed, moving in the indicated direction. “Come on you three, best get this over with,” he said.

  Nohar ducked under the arched rose trellis as they entered the garden. He could smell the earthy smells, sweet aroma of plants. People milled about, some kids were at play. But he oriented immediately on the cloud of flies near the back. They were over a patch of freshly mulched ground.

  “Yeah, DB buried you think?” O'shee asked, as they moved to the patch.

  “No, if we could only be so lucky,” Nohar said, looking over to a wood chipper nearby.

  Draskin turned to look where the cat was looking and swore softly. “O'shee, I think you better call this in. We're going to need back up,” he muttered.

  “You sure?” O'shee asked, eyes tracing the blocky lines of the machine. Its' exit chute was pointed right at the patch. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Cause I'm a pessimist all right?” Draskin demanded. “And tell them stat.”

  Nohar grunted as they slowed to a stop near the machine. He could smell blood. “Blood. Fresh. Coagulated though, post postmortem,” he reported. “Tissue and other things too. Urine, the whole works,” he said, covering his nose and pointing to the front mouth of the machine and then the back.

  “Yeah, I can smell the decomp from here too,” Draskin sighed, pulling blue latex gloves out. “O'shee, what are you doing standing there?” he demanded.

  Nohar turned. “Find out when this machine was used last. Not just when it was officially used, ask when people last heard it running. Was it running at night? Early morning?”

  “This morning? While we were eating?” O'shee whispered, looking greenish like Magnum. “Crap,” he said, turning. He took off at a trot.

  People were milling about looking at them. Draskin peeked into the mouth of the chipper and then went to the plot. He waved the flies away long enough for him to crouch. He took a pen out and used it to poke and sweep aside the dirt until he found a tooth. Then he swore again. He brushed another area and found an eye, a cat eye. He swore again.

  “It's fresh,” Nohar said, finding tufts of ocelot hair around the intake. He put the knuckles of his left hand against the engine that powered the machine. “Still warm,” he said, looking at Draskin.

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” the cop said.

  “Think the killer upped the ante? Or just got full? Either way he used this to hide the bodies in plain sight. Smart. I'm wondering how many though,” Magnum said, handkerchief over his mouth and face.

  Nohar looked at him and flicked his ear in agreement. He turned seeing other people looking their way, some were backing off, some pointing. He sighed. “That's for forensics to determine. I don't envy their job.”

  “I'm having enough trouble with my own,” Draskin growled.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  As the cops and CSI processed the scene Nohar took a seat on a bench under a tree. It was close enough to keep an eye on things, but far enough away to not crowd them. The cops were getting enough of that as people started to show up to watch and talk. Since he wanted to see what was going on, he kept an eye on the crowd. Of course there was no hint of a Neocat, no that would be too easy. Apparently the bastard had learned not to get so close.

  Other Neo's however were there, a janitor cougar, a couple of dogs, and a handful of otter pickpockets working the crowd. Some were pretending to entertain, really serving as a distraction while their partners went to town. Hopefully Draskin or some cop would crack down on it soon. Nohar however didn't want to say anything, he may need to talk to the little klepto's later and didn't want to alienate them.

  Nohar checked the shadowy areas, but didn't see anything there either. No, if the bastard was watching, it was from a distance. It probably burned his ass to not be able to be up close to gloat, to see what the cops found and see what he'd done wrong.

  Since he was here anyway he pulled the laptop out and started it up once more. He flipped through the bullet points the program had pulled together and then opened a psychological file.

  Nohar built a profile, he hypothesized that the killer was a Neo lion or other cat, a powerful one, smart. A pathological Neo, possibly the son of a prostitute from that connection. Or he had been spurned by one, maybe by his masculinity. From the report the kills had started in Morey town and spiraled in escalation from there. He was a careful one, and learned from each of the earlier attacks. He was counting on the human's indifference and the Neo's prejudices to allow him to hunt. He'd been careful, but he'd escalated when no one took notice. Now he was setting aside his intelligence, giving in to his blood lust. He had to be stopped, and soon.

  When he was done he used a witness program to sketch the predator. He had to use a lot of guesses, he didn't know the physical size of the killer, but he had a general idea based on his sonotype. He watched the program do a series of renders and then blended them together. When he was finished he had a 3D avatar of the serial killer. He even used his own footage of the mane to color it in. he spun it, changing the color of the fur a few times. It wasn't much, but it was all they had for now.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  He kept casually checking the crowd all day, but the killer was adapting, staying away. But not too far away he thought as the shadows from the buildings covered the people and grounds. He frowned, and then put his laptop away. Casually he stretched, trying to get all the kinks out, then he laid is arms on the back of the bench and closed his good eye, pretending to doze.

  “Comfy?” Draskin muttered in passing.

  “No, not really,” the tiger muttered back.

  “What are you doing then?” Draskin asked. “Checking the crowds?” he asked. Nohar noted a shadow on top of a building. He grunted and then angled his head to catch the light evening breeze.<
br />
  “Something like that,” he murmured. He saw a flash of motion on the rooftop but kept his head turning. Gotcha, he thought. That was a mistake. Ducking gave the cat away. He turned his head back, eye still closed as if he was drowsy from the sun. The wind was all wrong, he was upwind of the predator, he couldn't get the scent.

  “Draskin,” he murmured.

  “Eh?” Draskin asked, nearby. Nohar snapped his fingers. The detective looked up in annoyance and came over. “I'm not your bell boy, so don't even bother asking for a damn drink,” the detective growled.

  “Keep talking. Then go get a perimeter around the 5 story building in front and on my left. The one with the granite trim,” Nohar said.

  Draskin suddenly knelt, but hopefully he didn't look. “See something? We've got spotters in the crowd.”

  “But not on the rooftops right?” Nohar asked.

  “No,” Draskin said.

  “That's where he is. He's watching us now,” Nohar said, trying to get a good view. The light was wrong too damn it, it was too low on the horizon. They had minutes left before the sun was down.

  “Shit,” Draskin muttered, turning to the others.

  “Don't alert him!” Nohar whispered, but then realized it was too late, the shape was moving. “He's moving!” he said, bolting from the bench.

  “Rooftop!” Draskin howled, pointing to the building. Nohar was already bounding across the lawn, over the crime scene tape and over the startled CSI's within. Magnum had been coming over with ice coffee, he dropped both and oriented on the chase.

  “Go go! Get around him!” Nohar yowled, hitting the fire escape and climbing fast. The iron shook as his 500 kilogram body pounded up it.

  “You heard him! Cut him off!” Draskin said, waving his people and getting them to surround the building.

  Nohar got to the top and ducked under the ledge. He pulled Matilda and peeked fast, nothing there. He climbed over the side as he noted cops following in his wake.

  The rooftop was covered in vents, chimneys, access doors, and sheds. Plenty of places to hide. He started a grid scan, sweeping for shadows and movement when he saw a tuft of a tail moving. He aimed, but didn't have a shot. Snarling he moved into the chase. “north!” he roared.