The Vanity Case (Sondra Blake Book 1)

by Niall Teasdale

  When he got back twenty-eight results, he frowned. That seemed like too many and yet not as many as he had expected. Knives and aging. He had been reasonably specific about the knife, assuming the same blade would be used in all the murders without confirmation from the ME. He opened the first case file in the list, the murder of a kindergarten teacher in Orlando, Florida in nineteen eighty-nine, and began to read.

  ~~~

  ‘Your hair’s wet,’ Clarke commented as he walked beside Sondra to the autopsy room.

  ‘It’s raining, and I don’t have an umbrella,’ Sondra replied.

  ‘Couldn’t you use a spell to–’

  ‘A little rain never hurt anyone and I don’t use magic for trivial reasons.’ She pushed on the door in front of her with barely a pause in her step and continued into the sterile room. ‘It’s a good way to end up in a loony bin, and I’ve done my time in one of those.’

  ‘We don’t call them loony bins any more,’ Maureen commented from her position beside the sewn-up corpse of Alice Toliver.

  ‘I’m old school. What do you have for us, Maureen?’

  Maureen sighed and turned to the body. ‘Miss Toliver probably died from a combination of factors including atrophied kidneys, liver disease, and extreme age. She has few of the disease symptoms evident in Miss Carpenter; however, there are a couple of gummas. She also has a list of broken bones which you can read if you wish, but it comes down to “almost everything.” No spinal injuries likely to result in disability or death, but there are a couple of damaged vertebrae. Almost everything else has one or more breaks. There’s even a skull fracture. If I were just looking at the skeleton, I might have considered the possibility that she was an extreme sport veteran who had tried sky diving without a parachute.’

  ‘The knife wound?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Is identical to the first, except for position. It missed all the organs this time.’

  ‘Definitely the same blade?’

  Maureen narrowed her eyes and peered at Clarke. ‘Obviously, I can’t be sure that the same blade was used, but one with the same shape, certainly. What have you discovered, young man?’

  Sondra turned to look at him as well and, for some reason, Clarke felt anxious. ‘I ran a like-crimes search, assuming the same blade. I didn’t want to say anything before Doctor Tavish confirmed it. I’ve, uh, got twenty-eight unsolved cases with the same primary characteristics. The wound and the aging. Seven victims in each run, seven years apart. The last was in February twenty ten.’

  ‘This is why we hire academics,’ Sondra said to Maureen. Then she turned back to Clarke. ‘Since I don’t remember any such case, this didn’t happen in New York, did it?’

  ‘Uh, no. Three runs in Florida, one in England.’

  ‘England? Well… damn. We’re going to have the FBI and Interpol sticking their noses in.’

  Clarke nodded, wondering whether his discovery was really such a good thing. ‘The search went through the Interpol database to get the one in England. Will the FBI want to take over the case?’

  ‘They’ll probably take an interest, but Arcane has a pretty good relationship with them. I think I can keep it with us for now.’

  ‘Okay. Maybe we could use their help. This guy’s killed twenty-eight people, mostly women over almost three decades, and no one’s caught him.’

  ‘Ah,’ Maureen said, smiling, ‘but he’s never done it where Sondra has had a shot at him, has he?’

  Sondra heaved a sigh. ‘No pressure or anything.’

  ~~~

  Sondra turned over a sheet of printout and began reading about the death of an eighteen-year-old waitress from London, England. Maureen had volunteered to look over the autopsy reports on the previous victims, but Sondra had already come to some conclusions.

  There was a progression of insults to the bodies of the victims. The first seven had been stabbed and aged. There were a few indications of excessive alcohol consumption and cocaine, but nothing as extreme as the modern ones. That had changed for the next seven: the drug-induced damage was more obvious, and there were broken limbs and signs of untreated STDs. And so it had gone on, with each iteration worse than the last.

  To Sondra, it said that this was not some form of demon possession. There was an artefact involved. She sighed and put the papers down, looking up at the ceiling of her lounge. The Collapse had changed a lot of things; the appearance of magic on Earth was just one of them. Artefacts had started turning up while Sondra was still in the asylum, and they always meant trouble.

  No one seemed to know exactly what had happened on the night of Halloween in nineteen sixty-two. Or anyone who did was not talking. What was known for sure was that a world in a parallel dimension called Lornaron had been destroyed, collapsing through the dimensions to partially merge with Earth. The native humans of Lornaron had been wiped out in the catastrophe, but some things had survived, even some of the geography. Four citadels containing creatures now known as orcs had appeared in four locations around the world. The humans and orcs had been at war prior to the Collapse. The orcs had been winning, and the best theory anyone had right now was that some magical weapon intended to destroy the orcs had backfired really badly.

  More than the orcs had survived. Random bits of land had been changed, wholly or partially merging with the corresponding part of Lornaron geography. Some buildings had crossed over, often in ruins. A few other species had survived, including the fairies which now made a pest of themselves in Central Park. And there were the artefacts.

  An artefact could take more or less any shape and do almost anything. Many of them were ancient, made by demons so long ago that the reasons for their making were unknown. Their true nature was usually impossible to know before someone tried to use them. They could do wonderful things, but even when they seemed to be beneficial, there was almost always a downside. It was unlikely that being able to kill people in a progressively more disgusting and depraved manner was the true purpose of this artefact. The seven years pattern of seven deaths seemed like a requirement. That was how you made the thing function: you sacrificed other people to gain… What?

  Whatever it was, the artefact had to be found and whoever was using it had to be stopped. Two people were dead and five more would follow them unless the killer was stopped. Sondra picked up the reports again and began reading. She needed to find something, anything, to point her in the right direction.

  15th February.

  ‘I’ve got nothing,’ Clarke said. ‘I mean, nothing useful. It’s never taken him more than twenty-eight days to get all seven victims. The time between attacks tends to increase between victims, except for the first time when there’s a lag between the first and second.’

  ‘The first kill was a shock,’ Sondra said, sitting behind her desk with a frown on her face. ‘He had to rally himself before trying the second. Then he realised he liked it.’

  ‘Right. You noticed how the injuries on the victims get worse each time?’

  ‘Yes. That was interesting, but I’m not sure what it means. I’m sure this is an artefact we’re dealing with.’

  ‘Well, it could be a demon with some requirement to kill seven people every seven years…’

  Sondra nodded. ‘I suppose it could. I just don’t feel it. I’ve never heard of a demon like that, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And there’s the consistency of the knife wounds. If it has to kill people, in this manner, why the special knife? It can’t have brought the thing from Lornaron.’

  Clarke sighed. ‘I don’t know that much about artefacts, but you’re probably right. How do we find an artefact?’

  ‘Luck, usually. Luck and good old-fashioned detective work.’

  ‘I’ll check the FBI database of known artefacts for daggers.’

  Sondra winced. ‘Good luck with that. It’s going to be a much bigger list than the one of previous victims.’

  ~~~

  The trill of Sondra’s phone was annoying. It was
designed to be since that stopped her ignoring it. Picking it up, she noted the caller ID and swiped the accept icon on the screen. ‘This had better be important, Clarke.’

  ‘Are you watching the news? WNSN?’ Clarke’s voice sounded more angry than anything.

  ‘I’m watching the little weasel.’

  On her screen, Devon Brightman was his usual suave, sophisticated self. When he was presenting, none of his baser nature showed. He was the calm, fact-reporting journalist. ‘Detective Sondra Blake of the Arcane Crimes Unit is leading the investigation into the two deaths, aided by her new partner. Detective Clarke Delacroix, son of millionaire Anthony Delacroix, is new to the NYPD, but comes with an excellent background in analytical magic.’

  ‘He just said I was useless,’ Clarke said.

  ‘Learn to take hits from the press,’ Sondra replied.

  ‘Detective Blake is, of course, well known as one of the most senior detectives in Arcane,’ Brightman went on.

  ‘For, example, that was him calling me old.’

  ‘Her assignment to the case shows that the NYPD is taking these deaths seriously, but my sources indicate that they have no leads likely to stop this killing spree.’

  ‘And that was him saying I’m incompetent.’ Sondra killed the sound and turned her attention to Clarke. ‘Listen. So far, Brightman has tried getting a quote out of me and failed. If I read he’s got one from you, I’ll put my boot up your ass. He’ll try you next. He’ll figure you know nothing about handling the press.’

  ‘More fool him. As he said, I’m Anthony Delacroix’s son. I’ve been dealing with the press since I was sixteen. Anyway, you don’t wear boots.’

  ‘I do sometimes, and they have stiletto heels.’ There was something like a wince from the other end of the line, but it was almost drowned out by an insistent beep. Sondra turned her phone so she could see the screen, and then back. ‘Captain’s calling. I’ll see you tomorrow. Stay away from Brightman.’ She cut him off before he could answer, switching to the second call. ‘Yes, Clem, I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Where does that man get his information?’ Dickerson said, his voice a growl of annoyance.

  ‘I don’t know, and I’m not Internal Affairs. He has “sources.”’

  ‘He’s got cops he can bribe.’

  ‘Probably with doughnuts.’

  ‘Huh.’ That was about as close as the captain of Arcane was going to get to a laugh about now. ‘You’re sure Delacroix–’

  ‘Clarke just called me. He was surprised. I wasn’t because Brightman and I butted heads yesterday. He knows about the link to Archer. He knows there are two bodies and he’s got some of the details from somewhere.’

  ‘He didn’t link Archer into this in that piece.’

  ‘No, because he doesn’t have enough evidence to mention him without attracting some nasty attention. I’m reasonably certain that Archer isn’t involved anyway.’

  Dickerson gave another grunt. ‘How is the case going? Any leads?’

  ‘Clarke found twenty-eight previous cases. Seven deaths, seven years apart. Most of them have been in Florida, so we’ll have the FBI taking a look soon enough. I’m pretty sure this is an artefact, but exactly what it does and who has it… No, we have no workable leads. However, I think the place the second body was dumped indicates that the killer is trying to get our attention. Mine and Clarke’s. The dump site was just about on Clarke’s stoop.’

  ‘That’s not necessarily a good thing.’

  ‘No, but I think we’re looking at someone arrogant enough to challenge us. Arrogance leads to mistakes. He’s looking for five more victims. He’s going to slip up on one of them.’

  ‘Has he ever slipped up before?’

  Sondra sighed; not according to the files she had read. ‘If he did, no one picked up on it. But he has to make a mistake sometime. When he does, I’m going to nail his ass to a wall.’

  16th February.

  ‘Okay, Lisa. Thanks.’ Sondra put her desk phone down and looked across at Clarke. ‘FBI. Mind your manners.’

  ‘Right.’ Clarke straightened his tie, though it did not need it.

  Sondra smirked. ‘You’ll probably be better dressed than they are. And it’s the Feds, not the president.’

  ‘Right,’ Clarke said again. He looked nervous, but there was nothing much more Sondra could do about that.

  At a knock on the door, Sondra called out, ‘Come in.’ Then she got to her feet as the two federal agents entered.

  The first through the door was a woman. Maybe five-foot-seven, but taller in her two-inch heels. Her skirt was a little shorter than Sondra might have expected, showing several inches of thigh, but the overall look with the blazer and blouse beneath was professional. She was pretty, blue-eyed and blonde-haired, with quite sharp, angular features. Her makeup was carefully applied to look a little too much while remaining close to the professional limits. Sondra decided that this was a woman who worked hard to be underestimated.

  Behind her was a large man, taller than Clarke by an inch or so, broad-shouldered and thick in the neck. He was also blonde and blue-eyed, but he looked more like his speciality was police brutality than investigation. Still, his blue suit and tie were professional and well-tailored; the tailoring was probably required to fit his frame.

  ‘Detective Blake,’ the woman said. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Special Agent Issacs, and this is Special Agent Hall.’ She put a very slight emphasis on the ‘special’ each time. She also affected a slight southern accent which Sondra thought was put on.

  ‘And you’re here to talk about the recent magical murders,’ Sondra said. ‘This is Detective Delacroix, my partner.’

  Clarke got to his feet and turned his chair toward Issacs. ‘Pleased to meet you. Have my seat, we’re short on them.’

  Issacs smiled brightly. ‘Why thank you, detective. That’s most kind.’ She sat, crossing her legs primly, and turned back to Sondra. ‘We are here about the murders, yes. You may not know this, but there have been previous, similar–’

  ‘Detective Delacroix found the other twenty-eight deaths, including the seven in England. Are you claiming jurisdiction?’

  Issacs smiled again. She was really trying to win hearts. ‘Offering assistance. We would like to keep an eye on the case. Find out what you know so far. Perhaps we have something you haven’t discovered yet. The New York office is aware of your reputation, Detective Blake, but we do have resources the NYPD does not have.’

  Sondra smiled back. ‘The NYPD has the Arcane Crimes Unit which was the first specialist unit dealing with magic employed in criminal activities. The FBI still maintains a policy of not centralising its magical investigators, which I think is appropriate given the national scope of operations, but we have more expertise in this building than you have in your office.’ Issacs opened her mouth to speak, maybe to protest, but Sondra held up her hand. ‘I know the statistics, Special Agent. I’ve been doing this job since Arcane was put together. I have no problem with working with you. I’ll see to it that you get copies of the case files. If there’s anything you can add, I’d appreciate it.’

  ‘Perhaps we could go through them now.’ There was a bright, easy quality to Issacs’ voice, but Sondra could see the slight tightening around the eyes; the agent was not especially pleased that Sondra was not welcoming her with open arms.

  ‘Sure. Clarke, would you call down and see if there’s a room free where we can all sit down? We’ll get comfortable and have the coffee shipped in by the bucket.’

  Special Agent Hall rumbled; probably a laugh and the first sound he had made since entering. Issacs glanced at him. ‘That sounds like a wonderful idea,’ she said, but Sondra was not buying any of it.

  ~~~

  ‘She seemed nice enough,’ Clarke commented as he walked into the office after seeing the two FBI agents off. ‘Hall… was quiet.’

  Sondra looked around from her computer screen. ‘Men. Always thinking with their genitals.’

&n
bsp; ‘Huh?’

  ‘You really fell for that girl-next-door act? She’s looking for a way to take over the case.’ Sondra tapped her screen. ‘She’s been with the New York field office for two months. Moved from Mobile. She wants to make a name for herself and she sees this case as the one that’s going to do it.’

  ‘I… didn’t notice that,’ Clarke replied sheepishly.

  ‘No, because you were too busy watching her legs to pay attention to her eyes.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll be a problem?’ He was trying for professional, but the colour of his cheeks was not helping.

  ‘She’ll stick her nose in more than “keeping an eye on the case” warrants. She’ll be looking for any weakness in our investigation. So, don’t show her any.’

  Clarke nodded, looking down at his desk and not seeing what was there. ‘Maybe, uh, you’d be better off with another–’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. You don’t have much field experience, Clarke, but you’ve shown your value in research and you have yet to mess up a crime scene. Maybe this isn’t the best case for you to cut your teeth on, but you’re not screwing it up, and I’m not kicking you off it just because the FBI are interested.’

  He looked around, a thin smile on his face. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘My pleasure. Get back to work.’

  His smile broadened. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And don’t call me ma’am!’

  17th February.

  Sondra stood beside Clarke under the large, black umbrella he was holding. It was not quite eight in the morning and they were looking at another body. This one was dressed in clubbing clothes – tight shorts and a cropped top to show off once impressive breasts which were now withered by age – and had been dumped right outside the gates of the lot the movie company were using. The knife wound was in her stomach, two inches left of her navel.