Catherine gave the man a nod and spoke, “We will do all we can to solve this. Can you tell us what has happened so far? Number of victims, cause of death, any notable oddities or details that seemed to stick out?”
Catherine took out a note book and pen from her inventory and looked expectantly at the priest. Father Sullivan took a moment to gather his thoughts before he began to speak.
“It started around three weeks ago. During Sunday mass it was noted that one of our flock, a Mr. Grady Donnavin, was not in attendance. While that normally wouldn’t be notable as things happen and people grow sick and can’t always attend, it was notable due to the fact the Mr. Donnavin had sent me a letter requesting to speak with me in private after mass. From his letter he sounded rather troubled, almost afraid, and he mentioned in it that he would be sitting in a specific pew and if I agreed to meet with him, I was to make a specific gesture during the sermon. Come the end of mass he was still not in attendance and I became worried, so I sent one of the altar boys to check up on Mr. Donnavin to see if he was okay.”
The Father took another sip of his drink before continuing. “The boy returned with all the blood drained from his face and babbling incoherently about a death inside of twenty minutes. So, I called out to some of the able-bodied men and women who had stayed behind after mass to accompany me to see what was going on. We found Mr. Donnavin on the floor of his living room, eyes open wide in fear, and pale as a ghost as if there was no blood in his body. There were gouges in the floor by his hands with dried blood and broken pieces of his nails from where he seemed to have struggled and flailed on the floor. It was quite a frightful sight and I’m ashamed to say that I had to go back outside to collect myself, so everything I tell you after is second hand information.”
Father Sullivan looked slightly embarrassed before continuing, “Going through his belongings turned up nothing that would show what or who could have been responsible for Mr. Donnavin’s death. No signs of forced entry were found either and all other entrances to his home were still locked tight, only the front door was unlocked. We called the undertaker, Mr. Hanns Kistenmacher, to come take him away to be prepared for burial ”
Catherine nodded and took notes on her notepad before turning back to the priest to ask, “Did the autopsy turn up anything significant? Time or cause of death, or any abnormal marking that could give us something more to go on?”
Father Sullivan gained a disturbed look on his face as he looked at Catherine. “Autopsy? We would never desecrate someone’s body in such a manner!”
Catherine was about to speak when she felt Damian put a hand on her shoulder. She looked to him and he shook his head causing her to drop the subject, for now. Damian took the opportunity to speak up
“Apologies Father, Catherine only means well. The MHL has a sizeable number of medical experts who have helped field agents greatly by finding minor clues on the bodies of the deceased. She is used to our own practices and forgets that even those are only done with permission of the family of the deceased.” Damian lied through his teeth. “You mentioned this was just the first occurrence. What of the others?”
Father Sullivan’s face while still guarded was at least no longer looking at them with suspicion. “Understandable, I suppose. Sometimes I worry that men push to far in the name of their science. Anyway, there have been six other cases similar to Mr. Donnavin’s. All men in their mid-twenties, some married and some, like Mr. Donnavin, single. All were killed in their homes when no one else was around all showed no forced entry but all had the same posture and look in death as Mr. Donnavin. The only difference is that their doors were locked unlike Mr. Donnavin’s”
Damian nodded, “Thank you for the information, Father, would you be able to provide us with the addresses of the deceased please?”
Father Sullivan agreed easily and rattled off the addresses of the seven deceased victims. Catherine noted them down and they stood up to leave. As they were making their way out, they found a pale and lanky German man talking with one of the other priests in the entryway, their discussion seemed rather heated. Catherine turned to Father Sullivan and asked, “Who is that?”
Father Sullivan looked where she indicated and sighed in exasperation. “That would be Mr. Kistenmacher, the local undertaker, and the man he is arguing with is Acolyte Scherman. This is a familiar argument, Scherman is most likely lambasting Mr. Kistenmacher over his profession…...again. Excuse me, I need to stop this before they come to blows…...again.”
Damian and Catherine left the church and moved to the mouth of an alley before Catherine asked a question. “Why was his reaction to my question of autopsy results so exaggerated? Shouldn’t autopsy be a common practice when a murder happens?”
Damian looked around for Bronze as he answered, “During this time in history, the public at large viewed it as a violation of the sepulcher, add on the prolific body snatching and the popularity of the Frankenstein story and it’s a recipe for superstition and fear.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Catherine nodded in understanding before moving to her next question, “I believe we should look at the homes of the deceased to see if we can find anything. Do you have any ideas where to start?”
Spotting Bronze circling above them he waved her down and let her land on his arm before responding, “That’s not a bad plan, if we start with the victims that lived alone, we might find something that was overlooked. As for other ideas……. you probably won’t like it.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow at him so he sighed and continued, “The pattern is a victim shows up every three days. If the Father was worried about another victim would surface if we didn’t arrive soon, it means the next attack will happen today or tomorrow. I believe we would be best if we wait for the next victim if we hope to find anything.”
Catherine sighed, “Your right, I don’t like it but you also have a point. We have nothing to go on that gives us a clear direction of investigation. I would still like to look over the most recent crime scene though, with luck we just might find something.”
Damian agreed with her and so they made their way to the home of the latest victim. It was a five-story brick building with four apartments per floor. The victim, one Connor O’Mally, lived on the top floor, apartment two. Outside the apartment were two constables standing by as if waiting for something. Upon seeing the duo approach they straitened up and the elder of the two spoke up.
“I’m sorry but this area is off limits due to the attack that happened recently. We are waiting for the MHL investigators to arrive and take a look. Until that happens, we can’t allow anyone inside as that could mess with the crime scene.” His voice while authoritative, was monotone, as if he had been forced to give that line to multiple groups of curious people all day. Damian gestured for Catherine to go first and fell in line behind her, doing his best to look like the dumb muscle of their duo.
“Gentlemen, I am MHL Inspector Catherine O’Clair and this is my partner Senior Exterminator Damian Campbell. We were given this address by Father Sullivan and would like to get started as soon as possible; do you need us to wait while you verify this?” Catherine asked the two. Her voice stern and commanding.
The officers snapped to attention, “No, Ma’am! Please come inside we have kept it as pristine as we could as per MHL regulations. We will remain out here if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Catherine just nodded and moved into the apartment. Damian followed her after a short beat, giving the indication that she was in charge here. While it seemed unnecessary, if this was done by an intelligent creature or human, he thought it wouldn’t hurt if they assumed only Catherine was a threat to finding them. Guarding against two individuals is harder than one, if he can give false confidence to whatever perpetrator may be keeping tabs on their crime scene, it wouldn’t hurt.
The inside of the apartment was surprisingly well preserved. None of the furniture seemed to have been moved, no personal effects were thrown out or taken away by family, and the place the body was found was clearly outlined in chalk. Damian watched as Catherine made a quick circuit of the apartment. She briefly ducked into the bedroom and rifled through a few drawers after putting on a pair of gloves. When she failed to turn up anything that seemed connected to the murder, she would move on to the next set of items in the room until there was nothing left to search. She did the same for each area of the apartment, from bathroom to closet and kitchen, before she made her way over to the outline of the body. She ran a hand over the grooves that were carved into the floor with a grimace.
“With the amount of force that would be required to do this, and the adrenaline needed to ignore tearing off your own nails, the floor shouldn’t be the only thing messed up. The signs of struggle should have extended to the surrounding furniture. Knocked over tables and the couch should show signs of being moved, but there is nothing anywhere but in this one spot.” Catherine mused out loud as she considered things.
Damian, while being more of a hinderance than help to a normal search for evidence, took this moment to see if there were any lingering scents in the apartment. While it had been roughly three days and multiple people had come through, there might be something he could glean. Damian took a deep sniff and let the scents sort themselves out, he engaged every partition of his mind into identifying what he could.
He immediately ignored his and Catherine’s scents, what he was left with were an odor of unwashed bodies, lingering traces of fear and nervousness, and a strange mix of damp earth and sulfur. That last combination drew his attention; they were concentrated directly over the location marked as where the body was found. He circled the spot and noticed that the scent followed a faint trail that led from one of the windows and to the front door. Catherine watched as he came to a stop by the door and approached. The deadbolt was saturated with the same scent of damp earth and sulfur.
“What are ya’ thinkin?” She asked
Damian considered the door for a second, “The priest said that all other doors besides the first were found locked right? No sign of forced entry?”
Catherine caught on quickly, “He said no signs of forced entry. Just a second.” She stepped out the door and had a quick chat with the officers waiting on the other side. She stepped back in and nodded at Damian, “The door was locked, the man who found Connor was a friend who didn’t see him at work and came to check on him. When he received no response he asked the landlord, who happened to be his uncle, to let him in. Had to use the master key and everything. What did you find?”
Damian stared at the deadbolt on the door, which was saturated with the scent of damp earth and sulfur. “Whatever killed our victim, paused to let in an accomplice, its scent lingers on the lock, as if it had to spend a considerable amount of time unlocking it. Something it wouldn’t bother with if it was just acting alone.”
