Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Del arched his eyebrows as Gary walked into the morgue. “I thought I’d have seen you earlier than this. You’re three hours late.” He gestured to the sewn-up Y-incision. “Or did you stop by to complement me on my needlework?”
“I’m here for the edited highlights.”
Marius Eisler lay on his back, the Y-incision the only visible evidence of the autopsy.
Gary had watched Del at work on a couple of occasions and knew the reinforced thick twine that closed Del’s cuts concealed the heavy-duty, leak-proof plastic bag containing the organs, hidden from sight in the empty chest cavity.
“Body fluids have already gone to Toxicology, but we know what I’m looking for.”
“Your initial findings?” Gary knew better than to ask for more than that: It would be a while before the full autopsy report was finalized.
“As you correctly surmised, the letter was carved into the skin prior to death.” Del’s gaze bored into him. “And we know this how?”
“By the wound. Prior to death, the heart is working and blood is sent there. It has a different color, and the wound is significantly bloodier. After death, it’s paler, more… withered, and there’s less blood.”
Del smiled. “Full marks, Detective. Good to know you’ve been listening. Although I’d expect nothing less from one of Boston’s finest homicide detectives.”
“I know there was a condom, but—”
“But you assume nothing, which is how it should be,” Del interjected. “And yes, penetrative sex took place prior to death.”
“Can you tell if it was nonconsensual?” The bruising on Marius’s wrists and ankles appeared darker against the pale skin.
“Hard to tell.” Del frowned. “Who’s to say rough sex isn’t consensual?
There’s some abrasion, some internal bruising, but nonrough sex can create some injury.
What you want to know is if there was an overabundance of injury.
There wasn’t. As for the body fluids, I’ll test for GHB, Rohypnol, ketamine, and barbiturates, although we found no GHB in the previous victims.” His gaze flickered to the body on his table.
“This one likes his routines.” He frowned again.
“So why does he leave the GHB at the scene? He doesn’t leave any trace of the other drugs he uses. Is it some kind of message?”
Gary glanced at the table before meeting Del’s gaze. “I’ll be sure to ask him—once I catch the bastard.”
“Where have you been?” Lewis demanded as soon as Gary walked into their office space.
Gary came to a halt. “One of us had to go talk to Del. Did you want to do it?” As if he didn’t know the answer to that one.
“Okay, so I had a weak stomach that one time,” Lewis countered. His mouth went down at the corners. “Travers wants to see us all, ASAP. Riley’s already in there.”
Aw crap.
Gary had a feeling a ton of shit was about to roll downhill, aimed right at him.
Without a word, he followed Lewis to the lieutenant’s corner office. Riley sat facing Travers’s desk, its surface invisible to the eye, hidden beneath an explosion of paper, folders, and coffee cups. Gary gave it a cursory glance before meeting Travers’s stern gaze.
“It may look like the aftermath of a robbery, but trust me, it’s organized chaos. I know where everything is, and I can lay my hand on anything in seconds.”
Gary held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t say a word.” He knew better.
“Your expression said enough.” Travers pointed to the empty chairs next to Riley.
“Sit.” No sooner had Gary’s ass touched the worn leather seat than Travers launched into his controlled rant.
“So now we’ve got five bodies, and we’re no closer to discovering who’s trying to wipe out Boston’s entire gay population.
” As usual, Travers didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to. His clipped tone was sharper than a razor, honed by years of practice.
“Hey, we don’t know—”
Travers cut Riley off. “He’s killed five.
Who knows when he’ll stop?” He picked up the folded newspaper from the top of a pile of others and tossed it at Gary.
“We made ink again. Only now it’s worse.
The press has gotten hold of the stuff about the bondage gear.
Great. That’s just great.” He squeezed the words through his teeth.
“I know you’re pissed,” Gary said, “but—”
“Pissed?” Travers glared at Gary. “I’m not pissed.
Trust me, when I reach pissed, you’ll know about it.
The only thing saving your asses right now is that it hasn’t gotten out yet about his little calling card.
We’ve already had three guys stroll in here to confess to the killings, and Lord knows, that’s only the start. ”
He sounded as weary as Gary felt, and Gary was bone tired. He’d slept little the previous night. Every time he closed his eyes, two men’s faces swam there: Marius, staring at him before they’d zipped him into the body bag, and Brad.
Except Brad was never far from Gary’s mind. There were occasions when he’d realize with a hot flood of remorse that he hadn’t thought about Brad for a couple of days.
That was when the sweater would come out of the closet.
“We’re exploring every avenue,” Gary ventured. “We’ve pulled all the records—”
“I know what you’re doing. I’ve read the reports.” Travers scraped his fingers through his graying hair. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper than usual. “You’re in here because the chief feels we can be doing more.”
“Hey, if the chief has any suggestions, let’s hear ’em.” Gary folded his arms, his jaw stiff, a dull pain pulsing through his temple.
Travers mimicked his stance. “Actually? He has one. There’s a psychic who’s worked with NYPD and Chicago PD.”
What the fuck?
Gary gaped at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope, not even close. Chief says this guy’s gotten results. So he thinks we should bring him on board. Guy by the name of Dan Porter.”
Lewis snorted. “Hey, we could give my grandmother a call. She reads stuff in tea leaves. Or there’s this woman who claims she can tell the future from dropping asparagus onto the floor and looking at the patterns it makes when it falls.
Maybe she can find our killer. Want me to go to the store for a shit-ton of asparagus? ”
Travers glared at him. “I’ll try to remember not to repeat your suggestions the next time I get called into the chief’s office.
” He sat in his chair, elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled, his gaze locked on Gary.
“I know how it sounds.” His low, earnest voice was clearly an attempt at mollification.
“I was as incredulous as you, but I’ve done some checking.
Dan Porter appears to be a genuine psychic. ”
“Is there such a thing?” Lewis retorted.
Travers ignored him. “His results aren’t flukes, that’s for damn sure.
I don’t claim to know how he does it, but he’s helped cops solve crimes.
And that came from the chief. He’s been in contact with NYPD and Chicago to make sure the reports were accurate.
” Travers sagged in his chair. “All I’m saying is, maybe we should talk to the guy. It can’t hurt, right?”
Gary struggled to breathe evenly, his stomach clenched. “No. We are not resorting to mumbo jumbo, voodoo, or any other new age happy crap.”
Beside him, Lewis nodded. “The chief may go in for all that hogwash, but come on. We’re the professionals here. We know how to catch this guy, and it’s by good old-fashioned detecting.”
Gary had to fight hard not to stare at Lewis. Well fuck, we agree on something.
Travers’s face hardened. “Then get out there and detect. I don’t want you coming in here and telling me victim number six has just shown up.” He stood, reached for a coffee cup, and went over to the pot that sat in the corner.
Apparently they were done.
They trooped back to Homicide, and Riley perched on the edge of Gary’s desk. “Okay, that was the last thing I expected.”
“I know, right?” Lewis rolled his eyes. “You think the chief is smoking something that smells kinda funny? Because to come out with that horseshit….”
Gary huffed. “I’m not even going to give it headspace. Let’s go look at the evidence from the apartment.”
They headed for the tiny room they’d taken over after the discovery of body number three, Geoff Berg. It was nothing more than a closet with delusions of grandeur. One wall was obscured by the whiteboard covered in photos from the crime scenes.
“I’m getting some coffee. Want some?”
Gary gave Lewis an absent nod, his attention drawn to the photo of Marius Eisler. Talk to me. Tell me what I need to know. Help me find this guy.
“I’ll have some too, thanks for asking,” Riley hollered after him. “Asshole,” he muttered once Lewis was out of sight.
Gary ignored him. Travers’s suggestion had sent his mind in a direction he did not want to travel. He could still hear his parents’ voices.
This one looks genuine. Why not give them a try?
What if they can tell us what really happened?
Don’t you want to know?
Of course Gary had wanted to know. He’d ached to yell at his parents, to tell them they might as well pour their money down the drain for all the good it would accomplish. Those people were all fakers, charlatans, the whole damn lot of them.
“Where’d you go, boss?”
Gary blinked. Riley’s eyes held amusement. Gary forced a smile. “For the millionth time…. Okay, I’m older than you, and I’ve been a detective longer than you, but that does not mean you have to call me boss. Hell, you’ve worked Homicide almost as long as I have.”
Riley smirked. “Well, I’m not likely to call Lewis boss, now am I?” He clammed up as Lewis came back into the room, three cups held awkwardly.
Gary took one. “First step should be to get onto Grindr, Scruff, all the usuals. See if Marius was a subscriber.” Except he knew getting access to records took time.
Riley made a note. “I’ll do a search for his phone records too. I did check online when we were at the apartment. Marius didn’t show up on either Grindr or Scruff.”
“Which only means wherever his phone is—if it’s still in one piece—the killer has removed the battery.”
Lewis added, “And when we actually get the Grindr stuff—because it’s an even bet this guy had it on his phone—I’ll start the process of working through it, looking for any contacts with our list of crossover guys.
God knows there’s enough of them.” He grimaced.
“Can these guys not keep it in their pants? Seems like they’re forever banging each other. ”
Whatever good opinion Lewis had engendered with his forthright remarks to Travers dissipated in a heartbeat.
Gary speared him with a hard stare. “Keep your opinions to yourself and keep looking. Anyone stand out so far? Someone we need to look at more closely?” He tapped the whiteboard. “Any luck on identifying our mystery guy?”
“Nothing so far. Still a dead end. But there are a couple of new guys who caught my attention.”
“Great. We’ll look at them.” He sipped his coffee, his head still reeling from the chief’s absurd suggestion. “A psychic. Now I’ve heard everything.”
He stood in front of the whiteboard. Marius Eisler stared back at him, and Gary could almost hear his voice.
Find the monster who did this to me.