InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Good Twin, Evil Twin ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter Four

“Yup, yup, this appears to be it,” the man behind the wheel said matter-of-factly. And it was it as the flashing lights of an ambulance already on scene indicated. “We missed the party.”

“Told you to take that left turn an Albuquerque,” the man next to the man behind the wheel quipped. “Ah, but we always miss the party, Ken, that's the point, I guess.”

Ken shook his head and `parked' the vehicle half-on and half-off the grass of the park. Even as he cut off the engine Kev was exiting and fumbling with his notebook and pen, those trademarks of each and every detective the world over.

At once Kev was met by an officer wearing a raincoat - the rain that marred that day from sun up to sun set had been settling into a sort of mist while the air that was cold and rigid was evolving their breaths into a kind of smoke. The figure, standing under the conical shaft of light of a lonely streetlamp upon which were the mutilated, soggy remains of a poster, asked amid stern, Japanese tones who he was and what he was doing.

Kev did not miss a beat, extending his badge and saying: “Detective Kevin Markus, Omega Squad.”

Yet, it was not until Ken also showed his badge and introduced himself to be Detective Kenshin Matsui that the officer - who remained to be named - seemed to be satisfied.

All in all, Kev took the encounter well. Mostly because the alternative would have been a useless gesture. After five years working at Tokyo's Omega Squad, he knew officers unfamiliar with him would be naturally inclined not to believe an American in Japan could be a real detective. A decorated detective at that.

Kev continued: “Heard the boss say you guys found another body. Maybe you can take us over?”

“Yes, yes,” the still-nameless officer nodded and pointed toward the center of the park.

It occurred to Kev that he did not know the man's name. He just assumed the man was a real cop. And in the back of his head lurked the urge to ask to see his badge.

“What is that?” Ken asked while the officer walked ahead - before them a structure was emerging through the darkness of the night.

“Seems to be an open air theater,” Kev answered. It appeared to be an open-air theater but it was not easy to say through all of the shadows. “If that's where the body was found there could have been witnesses,” he added.

“Hmmm.” Ken frowned; he was not as impulsive as Kev and often kept his suspicions and observations to himself. Or, if they were to be discussed, they were talked about inside the squad room. He disapproved of his partner being so glib, so open, but dismissed it as the side effect of raw nerves - he knew his brother resented being asked to see his badge all of the time.

“The body was found under the pavilion,” the officer interjected. He raised the yellow, caution tape and helped the detectives through. “It was found beneath by the restrooms.”

Behind the tape the path they trekked forked. One side led up to the pavilion, the other side descended down to the bathrooms. And utility closets. The officer, who continued to be nameless, pointed the detectives onto the proper, down-sloping pathway and stopped - he was not allowed any closer.

“Oh - and one more thing,” stammered Kev. He stopped and looked at the officer, flipping his notebook and clicking his pen. “Paperwork. I'll need your name and badge number, sir.”

Ken smirked carefully turning his face away.

The officer pushed aside his cloak revealing his shirt and his badge pinned upon it - Kev jotted the information.

“Thanks.” He followed his partner into the depths.

The officer bowed quickly and spun back toward his post by the lamp.

“Paperwork,” Ken said.

“What?” Kev smiled, putting his notebook and pen away. “What?”

Within the abyss that greeted them as they approached, it was impossible to be oblivious of the frenzy of police work. Notably the intermittent flashing of cameras taking pictures. And as they neared, one step at a time, for those present it was impossible to be ignorant of certain, underlying familiarities between the detectives Kenshin and Kevin: from the contours of their profiles to the manners of their postures, even the timing of their gaits, hinted of the ingredients of their shared parentage that otherwise only could be seen here and there through the most subtlest of things.

“So what's the story, boss?” Kev asked. Despite everything, he could not lose the quick, easy was of an American.

“That's the evening caretaker, kid.” Kid was the boss's - Captain Takeshi's - favorite nickname for the foreigner. It was a term of endearment. “He says he found the body at nine.”

Kev fumbled again for his notebook and pen.

While Ken asked: “What was he doing here at that time? Still raining wasn't it?”

“Yes, heavily, too.” The boss nodded. “Says he comes here at that time to shut the bathroom for the night.”

Kev noted the information. “Makes sense. And so he finds the body where?”

The boss thumbed at the opposite end of the tunnel that ran beneath the open air pavilion. There, slumped along the edge between the floor and the wall, was a white nylon tarp whose contours revealed the telltale signs a body lay beneath.

“No blood. The rain could not have washed it away,” Kev observed.

The concrete was wet, proof rain flowed through the tunnel.

“Yeah, yeah, the weather fucked up. Washed it away, whatever evidence there was. Kano!” he called into a group of officers who, at the time, were photographing and collecting evidence. “Kano.” A sleek, slender man, who looked as if he was in his late teens and not in his late twenties, faced the boss and the detectives.

Kev gave Kano a quick, sharp nod - Kano gave Kev a smile and walked over.

“Yes, sir,” he asked with an airy, light voice. “What is it?”

“Pictures, medic.”

Medic Kano produced a folder and gave the detective - Kev - the pictures.

“Let's see, here, hmmm.”

His partner allowed himself a `hmmm' too and added, as he scanned the pictures: “Another one. Female, age fifteen. Typical high school girl, typical high school uniform.”

“We found her ID.” Medic Kano continued: “Her purse was not ransacked.”

“Again, robbery was not the motive,” Ken said freely, taking the pictures away from Kev to examine them himself up close.

“Cause of death is blunt-force head trauma.” The unnaturally young appearance of the technician belied Tokyo's brightest forensic mind and its years of experience. “Just like the rest. And just like the rest no evidence of sexual activity.”

“No signs of underwear.” Kev pointed at the image Ken was studying. “No penetration, no semen, you know, more and more I get the feeling the perp is a woman.”

“Serial killers are men, Kevin-san,” Kenshin stated reflexively.

“Almost always men.” The American passed the folder back from the detective to the medic.

For a moment, for an instant, as the folder went from one hand to the next, their fingers touched. It was a small, simple act - fleeting and passing - and Detective Kenshin and Captain Takeshi just could not see it. But between the Kevin and Kano their mutual contact resonated with the force of an act of physical intimacy.

“My gut tells me it's a woman.” Detective Kevin started to pace about the scene as the wheels of his mind began to spin. “Victims are teenage girls right out of high school. Murdered brutally. Undressed and redressed after death. And yet we are shocked by the lack of sexual activity. Maybe we have it wrong. Maybe we're looking for male sexual activity when we should be looking for female sexual activity.”

“Wait.” It was Detective Kenshin's turn. “This would be his fifth murder. He's been doing this for a while, he's been getting experience. And we know he takes an item of the victim's clothing. And it makes sense that someway, somehow, he uses that item to clean up.”

“Hmmm,” the bossed nodded, frowning. He was an old, old man into his seventies. Bald but he would have been white-haired. “The kid's idea is interesting. Could be why we're missing the mark - if we keep looking for a man when we should be looking for a woman. Still, I agree with Kenshin, serial killers are men more often than they are women. So, so; he doesn't abuse them when he kills them. At home, when he's alone and safe, then he abuses them with the items he steals.”

Kev nodded a sort of `resignation' but added: “Serial killers who collect items, they put their trophies into boxes and hardly, if ever, look at them. Well, hardly, and when they do, every now and then, they look through their collection the way we look through our albums. We don't make out with our pictures, they don't make out with their trophies.”

“Granted.” Ken could not help but tag onto it a last word. “But we've got a fifth victim killed by blunt-force trauma.” He emphasized those worlds, blunt-force, implying that only a man could have been that powerful. “You know, boss, it is the fifth victim. As much as you hate them, you can't keep them away. Reporters.”

“I don't want to glorify this son of a bitch,” the boss interjected. “And give him the popularity he seeks.”

Suddenly Kev was struck by a flash of inspiration and could not help but amend his theory with his own, particular brand of psychoanalysis. “Because at the most fundamental level he is barren and sterile, the male seeks validation through the acknowledgement of actual, physical acts. The male killers boast of their crimes; it gets their names out in public and they feel validated. The female killers, though, are motivated not by ego but by objective; they are the coldest, most-calculating killers.”

“And you're point would be?”

“Our killer doesn't want our limelight.”

“Ah,” Ken protested with a wave of the hand.

By that time the boss and the medic were more than a little bored of the two detectives and their dueling theories and went back to their business.

“You're looking at serial killers like they're sane and logical.”

“Yes - remember - they think they're normal.”

“You're nuts, nuts!” And with that the duel was settled - a draw.

After a brief moment, Medic Kano and the rest of the technicians placed the body within a bag atop a gurney. The team wheeled the remains out of the tunnel into the ambulance. Later, the evening caretaker was escorted into a vehicle whose destination was Omega Squad's headquarters for questioning and fingerprinting. Soon, only Ken, Kev, the boss and two officers were left at the crime scene.

“Let's see. It was raining throughout the day except the afternoon. It was quiet.” Kev said.

“Afternoon's when school's let out. Boss, you've called the next of kin, right?” Ken asked.

“Yes,” the old man answered, without looking back. “The parents should be at the station.”

Ken looked at Kev: “She walks through park alone - she would have been alone - “

“Or she would have been missed. Friends would have looked for her and found her sooner rather than later.”

“Yes. She goes into the bathroom and there the killer lays in wait. The report talked about a dent inside a stall that could have been formed by her head. If her head were smashed against it. And blood. Death must have been instant, which meant he had her with him for many hours. He writs and ankles were unbounded; of course she was dead, she was not going anywhere.”

“And then what? What does he do with the body for all of that time?”

“I don't know, I just don't know.”

“Time passes and it rains. He or she waits to ensure there are no eyes looking - there is no body within park - he or she takes the victim out of wherever she was hid. In the bathroom. In the closets. As soon as it's safe the body's placed out in the tunnel where the water would have washed the evidence away. Then, he or she, leaves.”

“But he's not from this area; he's already killed four other people four other places. He's got the remarkable ability to blend into the woodwork. To be in plain sight yet invisible.”

“God damned son of a bitch,” the boss cured as he was informed a satellite truck reached the park. “They swarm a crime scene like vultures.”

The two detectives approached Captain Takeshi as he stood under the arch of the tunnel's entrance communicating via radio with the officers already on-scene with the reporters.

“They smelled blood, kid.”

“Wait, boss, maybe we can use them?” Kev emphasized the word `use'.

“What do you mean?”

“Go to the press and tell them my theory. If I'm right, we get leads. If I'm wrong, and the killer's a man, it'll be such a blow to his ego that he'll be forced to speak once and for all.”

“And we get solid evidence.” The boss nodded, a sort of wry, half-smile came to his face. “Better - even better - I'll say the killer's either a woman or a man unable to sustain an erection. Impotent and taking his frustrations out in this way. Now that, kid, is a blow.”

The boss had a weird, mean streak that caught everyone off-guard. Everyone except Kevin.

“There's hope for you yet, boss,” he said.