Chapter Twelve #2
Stepping over to the body, Tobias leaned down and pulled out the card from the man’s jacket breast pocket. It was another Jack of Hearts, seemingly identical to the first one. Though the words on this one were ‘two of six.’
Not only was this killer using Maguire’s calling card for his own macabre tricks, but he was also telling them how many murders he’d planned.
Tobias quickly slipped the card into his own jacket pocket, determined to keep that piece of evidence restricted, and thankfully, they’d managed to keep knowledge of the small but important detail of the card itself a secret, which meant it hadn’t been leaked to the press yet.
And that was how Tobias intended for it to stay.
He turned to the doctor and Iain. “It’s definitely the work of the Conjurer; the same Jack of Hearts was left with the other victim. Again, this information is strictly to stay between us. I don’t want anyone else knowing of it.”
“Of course not.” Iain swore. “But bloody oath, the press will have a field day when we confirm it’s the same killer.”
“They will, which is why we need to catch him and soon.” Tobias turned to the doctor. “How long has the victim been dead for?”
“This one is a bit harder to determine, as rigor mortis has definitely set in,” the doctor replied, drumming the fingers of his left hand against his chin. “But going by the settling of the blood and the rigidity of the body, I’d say perhaps six hours, give or take a few hours either side.”
“Four to eight hours is a large window to murder someone in.” Tobias walked around the chair, forcing himself to look at every aspect of the victim. He deserved Tobias’s full attention, and hopefully his remains might provide some clue they could use to catch the bastard who’d done this.
“Determining an accurate time of death is still very much an emerging science,” Doctor Morton replied, bending down and further examining the incision of the cut.
“The weather can affect the estimations, and as it was decidedly cold last night, it probably would have slowed down the process somewhat. Making the time of death most likely closer to four to five hours ago, though I wouldn’t stake an alibi on it. ”
Tobias pulled out his pocket watch; it was currently seven in the morning. “So around two or three this morning?”
“Possible, though it could have been anytime from midnight.” The doctor shrugged.
“But definitely far earlier in the morning than the first murder?”
“Yes.” The doctor grimaced. “Perhaps he didn’t want to be disturbed again by the police dawn patrols?”
“Perhaps,” Tobias murmured, noting the victim was not only a male, but an old man at that.
Forcing himself to look at the man’s head, he noted that the man appeared to be aged somewhere in his late sixties, maybe early seventies, with thinning, white hair and an expression of shock on his pale face, almost as if death had caught him unawares as his brown eyes stared vacantly into the dark abyss.
The poor fellow. A God damn tragic way for anyone to die.
“What do we make of this scene? Phillip? You’re the one who knows Maguire’s illusions. Is this one of his?”
Phillip straightened from behind the tripod and scratched his head. “Honestly, sir, I don’t know. I don’t recognize it from his show…”
“It’s called ‘the Palingenesia Illusion.’” A new voice spoke from behind them as a man wearing a brown bowler hat and a brown suit with a white shirt was escorted in past the makeshift curtain by Detectives Rollings.
He was about average height, with a thick, brown beard, spectacles, and a rather robust frame.
“Ah, Doctor Patterson.” Dr. Morton stood and walked over to his colleague. “I do appreciate you coming and so quickly too.”
“Your note said it was dreadful, but I do believe you were minimizing the situation somewhat,” Dr. Patterson replied, staring at the victim, his head cocked to the side as he analyzed the sight.
“And do you also know magic, Doctor?” Tobias asked, assessing the newcomer as thoroughly as the doctor was staring at the victim.
Dr. Patterson blinked before glancing over to Tobias. “I’m sorry. You must be Inspector Flint? Charles has told me all about you.”
Tobias raised a brow at that but said nothing.
“And high praise it was, indeed,” Dr. Patterson continued with a smile.
“But to answer your question, no, I don’t know magic.
However, I’ve been treating a patient at Broadmoor for the better part of twenty years, and the man thinks of himself as somewhat of a magician.
During my consultations, I’ve had to listen to story after story of his great illusions.
His stories being illusions themselves, as he was never actually a magician.
” The doctor laughed at his own words, his pot belly jiggling under his jacket at the same time.
“Forgive me, but in the face of such tragedy, sometimes one can only laugh, if only to remind oneself of still being alive.”
Yes, police often did such things too. However, laughter was the last thing Tobias could muster right now. “What do you know of this magic trick, Doctor?”
“That it’s a very macabre illusion, obviously.
” Dr. Patterson’s eyes flicked over to the corpse.
“But it’s associated with rebirth and regeneration.
The trick itself involves the apparent dismemberment and reassembly of a living man.
I was quite intrigued myself after my patient spoke of it, so I went and saw it performed properly, though obviously, in that instance, the man reappeared fully intact.
In fact, I believe this illusion is still being performed sometimes by the Great Dondaric. ”
“He was one of Maguire’s apprentices,” Phillip added, obviously having been listening to the conversation.
“His apprentice?” The man had never mentioned that when Tobias had questioned him yesterday, point blank asking him if he’d known Maguire, to which Caleb Dodd had shaken his head, saying he knew Maguire’s magic, but not the man himself.
“He didn’t mention that when you questioned him, did he?” Iain asked.
“No, he did not, Sergeant. I think I shall need to pay the Great Dondaric a visit again and remind him that lying to a police inspector in the course of a murder investigation amounts to perverting the course of justice and could warrant his immediate arrest.”
The Great Dondaric had a lot of explaining to do.