by M. Z. Kelly
There was a sudden movement to our right. Bernie released a deep growl as we aimed our weapons in the direction of something scrambling away from us through the brush.
“Some kind of animal,” Leo said, as we both exhaled. “Probably a raccoon or a…”
“What’s that?” I said, my flashlight illuminating some flowers that were strewn on the ground a few feet in front of us. They were brightly colored hues of yellow and orange. It seemed so out of place in the dry creek bed that, for a moment, I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.
“Marigolds,” Leo said as we got closer. He picked up one of the flowers. “Somebody must have dumped them here recently. They’re still fresh.”
“Strange.” I turned away from him, inhaling as I tugged on Bernie’s leash. “Do you smell something burning?”
“Now that you mention it.” Leo took a moment, breathing in the scented air. “It smells like some kind of incense.”
After discussing the strange odor, we moved out again, now shining our flashlights deeper into the brushy area beyond the path. My light swept over something that only caught my eye for an instant. I took a breath and moved the light back, finding the image I’d seen a moment earlier. At the same time, Bernie let out a soft whine.
“I don’t…I’m not…” Words failed me as I glanced over at Leo. He also seemed to be in a state of shock, rendered speechless by the display in front of us.
I finally sucked some air back into my lungs and again tried to find words to express the horror of what we were witnessing. I’d seen a lot of strange sights in my life, but this was near the top of the list.
“It’s a girl,” I finally managed to say. “I think she’s wearing some kind of death mask.”
FOUR
Trauma has a strange effect on people. In my case, it sometimes left me with laser vision as I focused in on the small horrific details of a crime scene. The image in front of me was no exception, assaulting my senses, and leaving me with only fragments to explain what I was seeing.
A dead girl…the mask…no, her face is painted…the image of a skull…she’s wearing a wig…her dress is red…more flowers…candles…blood on the ground…
I turned away for a moment and took some deep breaths, forcing some air back into my lungs.
“You okay?” Leo asked.
I looked at my partner. “What do you make of this?”
He turned his light back on the girl. Something about the way the light washed over her made the scene even more horrendous; a strobe light catching fleeting images of horror. “Not sure exactly. She’s been posed on some kind of altar.”
I forced myself to look back at the display. The dead girl, with her painted face, brought to mind a case I’d once worked. The killer had called himself The Artist. He’d painted and dressed his victims before posing them. This had all the elements of that case and more.
Breathe. Focus. Stay in control.
As I took a step closer to the girl, my vision widened, and I began to fully process what I was seeing. The killer, or killers, had posed the girl on a raised platform about four feet off the ground. She was surrounded by candles and flowers. The scent of incense was stronger here, something that smelled like burning wood. The makeshift altar was strewn with other objects, including a necklace, some rings, a couple of oranges, a hairbrush, and a small stuffed bear.
I handed Bernie’s leash to Leo, put on a pair of latex gloves, and moved closer to the dead girl. Leo illuminated her with his light as I reached out and touched her, feeling the need to make human contact. I realized that her face had been meticulously painted with the image of a skull that went from her chin to her hairline. I touched the yarn-like wig on her head that had red roses affixed to it. I moved the wig back a few inches and saw that all the hair on her head had been shaved, giving the impression that I was looking at a skull with a wig attached.
My gaze then moved down, taking in the dress she was wearing. It was a lacy red garment that covered the length of her body. I touched the upper bodice of the dress to examine it closer. It slipped partially off her upper body and I instinctively moved my hand back, gasping in revulsion.
“What is it?” Leo said.
“Her…” I took a breath. “…her skin…it’s…it’s gone.”
Leo took a step closer to her, now seeing what I had. The girl’s skin appeared to have been dissolved or peeled away from her body, leaving a bloody pulp beneath the dress and, in some areas, protruding bones. I reached down and pulled the dress up from her ankles, now seeing that her entire body appeared to be missing its skin.
I looked at Leo. “Do you suppose some kind of acid was used on her?”
“Maybe. The coroner should be able to tell us.”
My partner’s light had moved away from the girl as he spoke and illuminated the ground. There was lots of blood there and what looked like an eight by ten piece of paper. He reached down and picked up the paper, turning it over.
“I think it’s a photograph of the girl,” Leo said as I looked over his shoulder.
If we were looking at the image of the dead girl as she’d been in life, she couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age, with beautiful dark skin and brown hair. She had that look young people have when their whole life lies ahead of them. It was heartbreaking.
Leo sighed at the same time Bernie whined. I took a moment to nuzzle my dog, feeling the need to make contact with something living.
My partner again referenced the dead girl lying on the altar in front of us. “You ever seen anything like this?”
I shook my head. “What the hell do you suppose it’s all about?”
Leo’s dark eyes swept over the girl again. “I can’t be sure, but I think it’s part of a ritual. There’s a name for what we’re witnessing. It’s similar to how some families in Mexico and Latin America set up altars and displays to honor the departed. I think what we’re looking at is a re-creation of Dia de la Muerte—the Day of the Dead.”
FIVE
“It looks like Halloween’s come a few months early,” Darby said, looking at the victim. After exchanging radio calls, he and Buck had met up with us at the crime scene. “You ask me, it’s the work of kids.”
My eyes narrowed on him. I did my best to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Why do you say that?”
“She’s painted and dressed up like she’s part of some kind of freak show. Only kids would do shit like this.”
Buck was standing next to him. Even in the dim light I saw him roll his eyes. “This is the work of someone who is seriously deranged. It has nothing to do with kids.”
Darby jabbed a thumb in his partner’s direction. “The cowboy’s not only an expert on horses, he now thinks he’s a profiler.” He regarded Buck. “Maybe you can get a job on one those crime TV shows.”
Buck put a hand on Darby’s shoulder and took a step closer to him. “That’s the last time you use the word cowboy, or…”
“Or what?” Darby said, pushing Buck’s hand off his shoulder.
Buck, who was much taller and stronger than the older detective, took Darby by the arm and pulled him away. They went back up the path to the cemetery, where they exchanged words. I didn’t hear everything that was said, but I knew Buck would eventually get his point across. He wasn’t somebody who backed down.
After they were gone, Leo said, “Let’s get the area taped off and get the coroner and SID here.”
I called the department’s Scientific Investigation Division, LAPD’s version of a crime scene unit. Leo then took Bernie and went back to our original crime scene, the shootout with the drug dealers, to find the coroner.
After I finished my call, I turned around and almost bumped into Buck. “Sorry,” he said. “Thought I’d just come back and check on you.”
I saw that he was alone. “I take it you and your partner didn’t hug it out.”
He smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in that way he had that made my heart beat a little faster. “
Darby’s not big on showing affection. He said he’s gonna call the lieutenant about getting a new partner.”
“You two don’t seem to have hit it off very well,” I agreed.
“I’ve met tamer polecats. Smarter ones, too.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Buck had a way of expressing himself that harkened back to his boyhood roots in Texas. We’d met a few months back while I was vacationing on Catalina Island. He’d been with the sheriff’s department at the time, and we’d worked together investigating the disappearance of my friend Mo’s niece.
After solving the case, we’d become involved for a few weeks, before his mentally unstable ex-wife began stalking me. I’d called things off, but I’d since learned that his ex was now in a mental hospital. I’d moved on and was now seeing a local veterinarian named Noah Fraser. Even so, I had to admit that seeing Buck again had been a distraction. He was tall and handsome, and there was something about his western roots that made it difficult for me to forget our past.
“What’s your take on this?” Buck said, causing my thoughts to surface. He motioned to the dead girl.
“Leo thinks it’s a re-creation of a Day of the Dead display.” I took a breath. “It’s pretty bizarre.”
“I’ve seen a couple of those displays down south. It’s all about honoring the souls of family members who have passed on.”
“And the items placed around her body?” I said, referencing the necklace, hairbrush, and other items on the makeshift altar. “What do you think those are about?”
They’re called ofrendas in Spanish. They represent items the spirit of the departed will use when it comes back to earth to visit family and friends. They’re usually things that the dead person had or enjoyed while they were alive.”
“Good to know,” I said, looking up into his blue eyes. I took another breath, forcing myself to look back at the girl. “I’m going to begin processing things.” I glanced back at him. “Maybe you should go check on your partner. Somebody also needs to go to the hospital and question Gooseberry.”
Buck nodded, but didn’t break eye contact. “You doing okay, Kate?”
I knew it was his way of trying to get me to open up and discuss my personal life. I’d already made it clear to him that was off limits.
“I’m fine.” I looked back at the girl. “We’ll talk later.”
When he was gone, I moved back over to the victim. I was grateful for having some time alone with the girl. As strange as it might seem, having time to myself with a murder victim allowed me to form a bond.
I was again struck by the brutality of the crime, how the girl’s body had been violated, her skin essentially stripped away. While the skin on her face hadn’t been touched, it had also been debased by the grotesque visage left by her killer.
I reached over, placing my hand on her arm, and whispered, “Whoever did this to you, sweetheart, I promise I’ll find him.”
My words brought to mind something an ex-partner named Ted Grady had once said to me about finding love in the form of justice for the victims of crime. Ted was a great cop who had committed suicide after tracking down his daughter’s killer and shooting him. Thoughts about Ted then opened a door to another conversation, one that I’d had with the man who raised me. I wasn’t sure if the conversation with my deceased love-dad, as I call him, was real or had been brought about by my mental breakdown over Ted’s death, but what he’d said had never left me.
My dad had told me that with each loss, there is a gift that’s left behind. He said, in essence, that loss opens the door to renewal and rebirth. While, it was almost impossible to find anything positive about the horrific scene in front of me, I knew that, in time, I would find a way to honor the dead girl. It even occurred to me that if she was displayed in the manner of the Day of the Dead, her spirit might be here, waiting for me to find justice for her and her family. That thought solidified my determination to find her killer.
I heard voices coming up the path behind me and saw that it was Leo with my friend, Brie Henner. Brie was a tall African-American deputy coroner who had recently been assigned to Section One on a part-time basis while she battled breast cancer. The radiation and chemo from those treatments had left her bald and thin. I had a thought about death being a constant visitor in my life that I tried to push away as we exchanged greetings.
“Oh, my,” Brie said as her gaze went over to our victim.
I gave her a moment, knowing that, despite her profession, seeing the grotesque display was like taking a blow to the stomach. I finally said, “It’s pretty bad. Her skin…it’s been removed.”
“Removed?”
“Stripped off,” Leo said. “Maybe some kind of chemical was used on her.”
Brie set her bag down and gloved up. “I’ll take a quick look, but we’re going to need portable lights and other equipment to process the scene.”
“SID is on the way,” I said, at the same time thinking about the late hour. “Daylight should also help us out.”
Leo and I held our flashlights on the victim as Brie did a cursory examination. She went from head to toe, not saying anything as she did her preliminary assessment. When she’d finished, she took a step back and removed her gloves. “Her skin appears to have been dissolved, rather than cut away. I think some kind of acid was used.” She glanced back at the girl. “But, as you can see, the skin on her upper body and face was left untouched.”
“So that he could paint her,” I said, stating the obvious.
Brie nodded. “There’s something else.” She took a breath. “I’ll know more when I get her back to the shop, but there’s an incision in her chest.”
“An incision?”
Brie nodded. “Somebody removed her heart.”
SIX
There’s an old saying that I’d heard somewhere about daylight bringing a sense of renewal and hope. I was feeling none of those things as the sun rose and a small army of crime techies trampled our crime scene, demonstrating they were careless and insensitive. The final straw came when one of the technicians took out his personal cell phone and began taking pictures of the victim when he thought no one was looking. I came up behind him and snatched his phone away.
“Hey, give me that back,” he demanded. The technician was probably in his mid-twenties, with a smirk that irritated the hell out of me.
“Don’t worry,” I said, placing the phone in my bag. “I’ll make sure it gets into the right hands.”
Bob Woodley, the on-scene supervisor, who had the personality of the dead bodies he often worked on, came over to me, demanding to know what was happening. I explained the situation, then said, “I going to personally give the phone to your department head. In the meantime, I want everyone to pack up.”
“What are you talking about?” Woodley demanded.
At five nine, I was a couple of inches taller than both men. I escorted them away from the victim and said to Woodley, “I’m talking about you packing up every baggie, brush, vial, camera, and glove that you brought with you and getting the fuck away from my crime scene.”
Woodley, who must have been taking assertiveness classes, took a step closer to me. “I’m not going anywhere. If we leave, who’s going to process the crime scene?”
I pulled my phone out. “Maybe your god damn supervisor.”
Leo had seen the confrontation and came over to my side, telling Woodley, “You heard the lady. Pack it up and get out.”
While Leo saw to it that Woodley and his staff left the area, I called the SID offices. I got hold of an analyst and told her I’d wait while she got her department head on the line. After being placed on hold for ten minutes, I finally got her boss on the line and explained what had happened. After some grumblings, I eventually got a promise that replacement staff would be sent to the scene.
While we waited for replacement SID staff to arrive, Brie came over and said she’d finished up with the victim. We took Bernie for a walk as she discussed her findings.
�
��I’m pretty sure a chemical compound was used on the girl, probably something like sodium hydroxide, or lye, but it was applied in such a way that it only dissolved the outer layer of her skin. He also used it to destroy her fingerprints.”
“Any theories about his motivation behind the display?”
We stopped and she looked at me. “I think what he did forms a killing ritual.” The morning was cool and she hugged her sides. “If I were a criminal profiler, I’d probably say that your subject has an extreme hatred of women, he was probably abused and molested as a child, and he’s ritualistically expressing his pent up anger and rage.” Brie smiled. “Since I’m not a profiler, I’ll just say that he’s fucking crazy.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard my friend cuss at a crime scene. It made me chuckle. “I can’t say that I disagree with you. Any thoughts about the removal of the heart?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Brie’s gaze had drifted over to the entrance to the cemetery. “I see that the press has already found us.”
I now saw there were about a half dozen satellite vans in the circular driveway. “They’ve probably been monitoring our radio calls. I’m sure it will be all over the news by evening.”
I looked back at Brie, holding on her eyes. My friend was battling stage four metastatic breast cancer, meaning that her cancer had spread throughout her body. Brie had told me that the chances of someone with her form of cancer surviving for five years was about twenty-two percent. While those weren’t great odds, my friend was a fighter. She also had a five-year-old named Lily in her corner—not to mention me.
“How are things on the home front?” I asked, moving our conversation in a personal direction.
“They’re good. Lily’s looking forward to a trip to Disneyland that I promised her. I’m going to ask my sister to go with us.”
