Chapter 8
“Good, we’re all here.” Lina smiled as Bel rushed through the morgue doors.
She hadn’t meant to oversleep, but after hours of dragging glass-entombed women over the sand in the July heat, every inch of her body ached, and she’d slept like the dead, barely staying awake long enough to shower the film of sweat from her skin before she climbed into bed.
“Sorry I’m late.” Bel rushed through the hall to prep for the exam, doing a double-take at the unusual participant draped in protective gear waiting for her.
“We only beat you by a few minutes,” Agent Barry said.
“We’re all slow after last night,” Lina said. “Take your time getting ready. We’ll meet you inside.”
“Thanks, I’ll be quick.” Bel secured her valuables and donned the protective suit before slipping on a mask and gloves as she settled beside Olivia in the exam room.
“It looks so much worse under these lights,” Barry said from his position behind the detectives. “On the beach, these mermaids were morbidly beautiful, but here?”
“It reminds you just how heinous the human race is,” Lina said.
“Girls preserved perfectly in glass.” He shook his head. “I feel like I’ve seen this before.” His gaze found Bel’s.
“Blaubart,” she confirmed. “I thought the same thing yesterday. I was going to ask if we could compare this liquid to what Blaubart used in his tanks.”
“My techs will run an analysis once Dr. Thum opens the glass,” Barry said. “If it’s a match or at least similar, that could help us ID the killer.”
‘Or determine if we’re dealing with some form of black magic… again,’ Bel thought to herself. “Thank you,” she added out loud.
“So you’ve seen something like this before?” Lina asked. “Because I haven’t. Normal embalming techniques don’t preserve bodies this flawlessly.”
“We have,” Bel and Barry answered in unison.
“We still don’t understand how Dr. Charles Blaubart manufactured his preservation fluids,” Barry said, “but that this has presented itself a second time concerns me.”
“Me too,” Bel agreed because, unlike her FBI colleague, she knew how the plastic surgeon had perfectly preserved his murdered wives. He’d sold his soul to achieve it.
“Well, hopefully we can figure it out,” Lina said.
“You have the entire support of the FBI,” Barry said. “Normally, when we’re called to a scene like this, we take over the case, but I don’t think Detective Isobel Emerson needs me getting in her way.”
“I don’t.” Bel smirked at him even though he couldn’t see her mouth.
“But we’ll still work closely with you,” Barry promised. “You’ll have all the help you need, including aid with the autopsies.”
“Thank you,” Lina said. “I will gladly take you up on that offer, but I want to do this first autopsy myself. I’ve never seen preservation like this.”
“Even with specialized embalming fluid, which it seems you believe this is,” Olivia said, “the killer most likely has embalming experience. Between that and the tattoos, we have good, if not unusual, places to start.”
“Funeral homes and tattoo shops,” Bel said. “There’s a funeral home in town, but is there a tattoo shop?”
“I don’t know.” Olivia shrugged. “But I’m sure there’s a studio somewhere nearby… not that these businesses have anything remotely in common.”
“They don’t,” Lina agreed. “But maybe our Jane Doe here can help us bridge the divide between them, so if everyone’s ready, I’ll begin the exam.”
The trio voiced their agreement, and Thum began meticulously photographing the glass.
“How did he fill the sculpture with fluid?” Barry asked.
“Under these lights, you can see the clear plastic seal and the glass latches that disappear into the design, but the mermaid looks like its halves open on a hinge. He would’ve had to fill the extra space after he sealed her inside, but there are no other points of entry besides the hinges. ”
“Probably submerged both her and the sculpture into the liquid and closed it while underwater,” Bel said, the memory of the floating Anne Blaubart rushing to the forefront of her mind.
“These deaths are overly complicated,” Barry said. “The killer would’ve needed a lot of time and space to work.”
“And someplace private,” Olivia added. “He wouldn’t have risked witnesses.”
“What I want to know is where he got these mermaids,” Bel said.
“I don’t think there are any glassblowing studios in the area, and we’ve already theorized that our killer learned to tattoo these girls himself.
He probably embalmed them himself as well, unless he had an accomplice.
Are we really going to believe this man also has glass blowing experience? ”
“Creating glass sculptures isn’t something you pick up as a casual hobby and perform in your house like tattooing,” Olivia added.
“It’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.
The heat alone could kill you. Not to mention how massive the furnace would need to be.
This isn’t a DIY project. I’ve heard of people learning to tattoo by watching internet videos, but glass blowing? ”
“The furnaces can get up to two thousand degrees Fahrenheit,” Lina said. “I agree with Olivia. Tattoos and embalming can be researched at home, but people don’t just install furnaces capable of that heat in their houses.”
“Do any artists work in the area?” Barry asked.
“No,” Lina said. “Brett Lumen was the closest thing here… well, Ewan Orso too. They’re furniture designers, and they use glass, but I don’t think they make it themselves. They order it.”
“We should talk to Violet,” Bel addressed her comment to Olivia.
“Get the name of the company she orders from. I would guess our killer is someone familiar with Bajka, since he knew about the lake's restricted area, so he’d be aware of Lumen’s Customs. All it would take is a convenient lie for the killer to learn Violet’s glass supplier. ”
“It makes more sense that he ordered these mermaids instead of creating them himself,” Olivia said. “And this isn’t exactly a standard order. The company that shipped these will remember, and it should lead us right to our killer.”
“In a perfect world, it’ll be that easy,” Lina said, pressing her palms against the sculpture. “But for now, let’s crack her open.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your time.” Bel hung up the phone and shared a disheartened glance with her partner.
They’d left the morgue with a promise that Lina would contact them with the cause of death, and Bel had called their friend while they drove to the Bajka funeral home.
Violet gave the detectives her glass manufacturer’s number, and both officers knew not to get their hopes up, yet it didn’t appease their disappointment when the company confirmed they only made basic panels and shapes for businesses like Lumen’s Customs. They provided raw materials to builders, artists, and designers, not human-sized mythical creatures to unstable serial killers.
“We knew it was a long shot,” Olivia said as they pulled into the funeral home’s parking lot. “Our killer stayed hidden long enough to create over a dozen mermaids. He wouldn’t use an obvious choice of glass supplier.”
“I know,” Bel said, hating that, once again, she was staring down the barrel of an impossible case. “It’s just frustrating because I can almost guarantee you that only a handful of businesses are capable of creating sculptures like that, and if we find them, it’ll lead us straight to our guy.”
“But they won’t be easy to find,” Olivia finished for her. “Especially if we’re looking for local artists from other states.”
“I’m tired.” Bel sagged in the driver’s seat, choosing to forget that Olivia was no longer her best friend.
She needed the support and camaraderie of the only other woman in this town who understood what she was going through.
“A missing girl, and now over a dozen dead girls. Sometimes, it’s exhausting doing this job as a woman. Men hate to see us alive.”
“Is that why Eamon has been showing up at crime scenes?” Olivia asked, and Bel forced herself not to gawk at her partner for crossing the line into the personal. How long had it been since their conversation had aimed in any other direction than work?
“Dying on your boyfriend has a way of changing everything,” she said. “Police procedure doesn’t seem as important. Not when I know what’s out there. Not when I know how brutally it can kill me.”
Olivia’s eyes slipped to the scars on her neck, and Bel fought the urge to touch the faint pink lines that would forever remind her of the night she met the monster she now loved.
“He’s safe,” she whispered. “Sometimes, he’s the only thing that makes me feel safe.”
But Olivia didn’t answer her. She just stared across the center console, a confused expression on her face, and, realizing that this fraction of a ceasefire wasn’t the reconciliation she’d prayed for, Bel opened the car door.
“Come on.” She nodded for her partner to follow, the detective fully back in charge of her body. “Let’s see if the funeral home knows anything.”
“Wow, they look… alive.” The funeral director leaned over the mermaid photos spread across her desk. “This kind of embalming doesn’t seem normal.”
“So this isn’t something your staff could accomplish?” Bel asked.
“I don’t know of any funeral home that can achieve this level of preservation,” the director said. “Everything about these girls is perfectly preserved. How long did you say they’ve been dead?”
“We’ve yet to ID the mermaids, so we can’t be certain,” Olivia said. “But our guess is the first victims with the least detailed tattoos were there for years.” She pointed to the photo of the girl Eamon had identified as the earliest victim.
“Years?” The woman gawked at the detectives. “Granted, our business prepares people for funerals, so we don’t try to perfectly preserve their bodies for decades to come. This seems more scientific than embalming.”
“Scientific?” Olivia asked.
“This looks like something from a science fiction movie.”