“Sonofabitch.” Kyrie (Kira) Song muttered harshly to herself as her dark eyes narrowed at the mess of a house that was now close to being a heaping mess of charcoal.
This was not how she wanted to start the day.
It was too early to be dealing with something like this. Far too early, with it currently being three in the morning. She didn’t even have her coffee yet.
“How bad is it?” she asked as another detective she worked with came out from the mess of a house. The look he gave her was the answer she needed. “God, what a way to start the day…” she muttered before being led to the charred remains of the house. “Where?” she asked.
“Basement,” he says, then glancing back, he adds. “Brace yourself.”
Her brows furrowed. Just how bad was this?
The detective continued. “The fire started around one-thirty in the morning. The best guess is that it might have started at one AM. It practically went up in flames like a box of matches at two AM. Given people came to buy plants or flowers. It’s no surprise it went up so quickly. But it’s what the firefighters found in the basement that led to us being called.”
Kira didn’t respond. Her mind raced to come up with what was in the depths, given how so little remained.
But what was down there, she couldn’t mentally prepare herself.
The basement was immaculately clean. That was the first thing that stood out to her, along with the sudden drop in temperature. Regular items like bleach, cleaner, and other household items followed by seedlings and other plants stacked on shelves with packs of seeds and other plants lining the brick walls, but there was one thing that stood out of place was dead center of the basement.
It was a tree, a fake tree with flowers all strewn into the limbs to make it look like it was in full bloom, but what was at the tree’s base was a human corpse. Which somehow had been used as part of the tree’s trunk.
The body was strung up with the woman’s torso made into a morbid display. Her body was sliced open, with flowers placed within, a flower crown with prominent thorns gouging into her skull, making her short-bobbed haircut slick with blood. She had no arms or legs. They looked to have been expertly removed.
“Firefighters found this when they were fighting off the fire to see if anyone was still inside.” The other detective, Fredrick (Freddie) Louds, Kira’s partner, spoke, bringing Kira away from the horrid sight. “The poor guy nearly fainted when he first saw it.”
Freddie was slightly older than Kira, a man of African American descent with cool dark skin and average height with a stocky build as he kept his black hair styled in a buzz-cut. The man had been a detective far longer than Kira and was well-liked in the community.
“Was there anyone inside?”
“The firefighters discovered a boy down here as well, unconscious, with signs of being drugged, but nothing else was done to him. He’s currently at the Hospital for Sick Children.”
“SickKids,” Kira confirmed.
Freddie nodded. “Yeah, the boy was found responsive but semi-unconscious, but dealing with a small amount of smoke inhalation from the fire. We’ve contacted the father since the parents divorced. He should be on his way to the hospital now.”
“Was there anyone else inside during the fire?”
“No, other than the woman who’s turned into a tree.” He then handed her a file, and as she looked it over, Freddie added. “This woman was a piece of work, with multiple complaints coming from customers and coworkers from the flower shop she ran from the ground floor of her house, going through at least two lawsuits, and having been charged with assault at least on five separate occasions.”
“Six,” Kira said. “It says six on her file.”
“Oh, right, that one’s new. It happened at least a week ago or so, I think? She tried to attack a father and daughter in a bookstore of all things when her son couldn’t get a book he wanted; I’ll contact the officer who was a part of the case to give more details.”
“We’ll need that.” She closed the file and handed it back to him as her dark gaze looked back at the woman’s body. This will be a hell of a case… she thought with discomfort at the horrid scene.
“Where are you going, Song?” Freddie asked when he saw her leave.
“To get some coffee, I’m going to need it. Want me to get you one?”
“There’s one a block away. And I’m fine. When you get back, I’ll let you know if we find anything else, don’t take too long.”
“Thanks,” she walked out of the scene and kept going until she reached a nearby alley where she emptied the contents of her stomach. “Shit…” she cursed under her breath as she let out heavy breaths. This was not the first time she had seen a graphic crime scene, but this one, in particular, was different. One that left a feeling of dread in the pit of her now empty stomach.
* * *
At least five in the early evening, Kira was in the middle of doing paperwork on some of her other cases while inside the Toronto Police 11 Division building when someone came in to be interviewed who worked with the victim.
“Good evening,” Kira said as she entered the interrogation room, where she came face to face with a relatively thin young woman who looked to be either in her teens or early twenties. The woman had short mousy brown hair that was left down, hazel brown eyes and freckles all across her pale skin. “Thank you for coming in. Before we start, would you like some coffee? It’s pretty good, or, if you’d like, I can see if I can get you something else to drink.”
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to get this over with if that’s all right with you.”
“Okay then,” she glanced to the one-way mirror where her partner and another officer were before sitting down in a chair across from the young woman. “First, do you know why you’re here?”
The young woman nodded. “Yes, an officer called, wanting me to come in to talk about my boss. I heard there was a fire. I was supposed to work today, but… looks like I don’t have a job anymore.”
Kira noticed how the young woman almost sounded relieved. “May I have your name?”
“Tracie, Tracie Winship.”
She wrote that down in a notebook. “That’s a nice name. So, how long did you work with Karen Crock, your boss?”
“About four months. My previous job closed down; it was another flower shop. I’m looking to be a florist, and I’ve been trying to gain experience before seeing about going to college for Floral Design.”
Kira paused. That was certainly different. “What made you decide to do that?” she asked this for two reasons. The first was to get a person to relax and be more willing to give information. The other was because Kira was genuinely interested.
Tracie smiled warmly. “My Mom and Grandpa love flowers and the garden they have always looked amazing. Because of that, I wanted to do it as a professional job.”
“It sounds like you really love flowers.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “How did things go with your boss? What was it like working there?”
Tracie hesitated; her gaze downcast as she fidgeted in her seat. “If I’m honest… it wasn’t great. She was super controlling and ignored orders from people she didn’t like. Badmouthed several people and made…” She spoke under her breath. “Racial slurs, especially towards those of colour and those who were Asian.”
What a class act. Kira thought dryly but didn’t let it show on her face. “Then why did you continue to work with her if that’s the case?”
“Because I needed the money, but I didn’t stop looking for other work. Today, I was going to quit. A customer recommended a better place after seeing how some of the other employees were treated, even me. And because of him, I was able to find a better job. I’m sure that’d make her even madder given what she did to him too.”
“Wait, Tracie, who are you talking about?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. About a few days ago, maybe three or four? A man came to Crock’s flower shop. This man wanted to talk to her but ended up getting slapped, like, really hard in the face. She yelled at him, blaming him for a lawsuit and a bunch of other things. It got to the point where none of us could understand what she was saying.”
“And what happened after? Was he angry?”
“Well, anyone would be, but he just… smiled. Like it didn’t bother him, then she stormed back into the shop, closed for the day and yelled off whatever customers were still there. I spoke with him, and he introduced himself, he said his name was Alastor, I thought he looked familiar, and like an idiot, I finally remembered who he was when I got home. He’s the radio host for 66.6 FM. My Mom listens to him all the time in the morning.”
Kira frowned faintly. “Why was Alastor Hilmarsson at the flower shop?”
Tracie shrugged. “He said he wished to speak to my boss in the hopes to air out grievances and come to terms with what happened between them. He did intend to keep the charges held since his kid was hurt, I mean, any good parent would do that, but he at least wanted to hear her out. And she slapped him, can you believe that? He’s a nice man, but given what Karen’s like, I’m honestly not surprised she did that.”
“Was that all you talked about with him?”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Well, I did tell him what was going on. Ms. Crock was treating the employees who were there, and he told me of a place that I start tomorrow, but other than that. No, nothing else.”
* * *
Kira didn’t expect to come back to this home again.
After speaking with Tracie, Kira went back and talked to the officer in charge of Karen’s assault case, and when looking over the file, she saw that Alastor Hilmarsson was the man who pressed charges.
The last time Kira was here, she questioned the man about Lauren Davenport’s disappearance. And though he seemed like a kind man, he had other things on his mind. Given he was a single father raising his only child alone, it was expected. Still, Kira didn’t know what to think as she and Freddie made their way up the street to the man’s home.
They had gone by his workplace but found that he had taken leave to look after his daughter until school started up again. Kira remembered the little girl and her father. She had heard Alastor many times on the radio, a once upcoming star on the stage turned radio host in the center of downtown Toronto. And he was just as charismatic and charming as he was on the air.
Kira knew about his wife’s sudden disappearance and was on the news for at least several months before it eventually faded into obscurity. Much like everything else when things lose people's interest.
“Should you, or should I?” Freddie asked, where Kira gave a wave of her hand, allowing him to go first. “All right then,” Freddie knocked on the door and rang the doorbell, then waited while Kira glanced around the front yard. Nothing has changed in the last few months.
The yard was immaculate.
Then the door opened, and Alastor smiled almost wryly upon seeing who was on his porch as if knowing who they were right away.
“Hello detectives,” Alastor spoke with that sing-song voice of his. “Is there something I can help you with this evening?”
“May we come inside to talk?” Kira asked, then noticed Alastor’s daughter peaking from the back door that led to the backyard watching them with a wary gaze.
Alastor seemed to notice this, for he turned around and spoke to his daughter. “Sweetheart, could you please go upstairs?”
With another glance at the officers, the little girl nodded before quickly going upstairs. Then Kira and Freddie entered the home.
“We can speak in the kitchen if you don’t mind,” Alastor said. “We just finished dinner, so if you’d kindly follow me, we can talk there.”
“That’s no problem,” Kira said as Alastor make quick and silent strides to the kitchen, where she could smell something cooking. And whatever it was, it smelled delicious. There was also a radio on, sitting atop the fridge where music played. The song currently on was I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire by The Ink Spots.
Kira only knew that because her previous partner had a love for old-timey music. It was one of his favourites.
“Please, have a seat. This will only take a moment.” Alastor said as he washed his hands. He checked the pot where a stew was on low heat before removing it from the element and turning it off completely, followed by the radio. “Now then,” he says as he turns to the two detectives he took a seat near the island with legs crossed and hands in his lap, sitting with his back straight. “How may I help this evening?”
“We just have some questions for you, Mr. Hilmarsson,” Freddie says. “Are you aware of a fire that took place sometime last night?”
“You mean the one downtown late last night? Yes, I heard about it on the news this morning. Such a terrible thing. I hope no one was hurt.” The two detectives glanced at each other when Alastor said, which the man promptly picked up on as his hand went over his mouth. “Oh, dear, I’m terribly sorry. But what does that have to do with me?”
“Do you know a woman by the name of Karen Crock?” Kira asks.
“Yes, she and her son attacked my daughter and me while we were at the bookstore that we frequent. I believe it was about a week ago.” He paused. “She didn’t attack someone else who caused the fire? Did she?”
“No,” Freddie said. “It was her home that burned. But, Mr. Hilmarsson, a young woman who used to work for Ms. Crock, spoke about how you were there three days ago. When a week before, she tried to assault you and your child. Only for her to hit you when she saw you.”
“Yes, I did go to her place. It was on the way back from dropping my daughter at the home of a friend of mine, a woman named Ms. Vivian Bone. She’s part of the late-night talk show at the radio station we work for. I had some things I needed to take care of, like dinner for the coming week. And a few other things around the house. I didn’t wish to have my daughter alone when I was out, and Ms. Bone was more than willing to let my daughter stay at her place for a few hours.”
Kira responds. “That’s rather nice of her to do.”
Alastor’s smile grew slightly. “Yes, it was, Ms. Bone is a wonderful woman, such a companionate soul. More people should be like her, in my opinion.”
“Regardless, why were you there, to begin with?”
He then glanced at Kira. “Curiosity,” he says. “She gave me her card before the assault took place. Part of me was curious about what her shop was like. And since it was on the way, I thought to give it a look. And I also hoped for us to come to an agreement. Though I planned to take her to court to face what she had done, I was willing to reach an understanding. Yet the moment I arrived; I see Ms. Crock berate a poor young woman. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. So, I intervened, and I was hit, but I thought it was for the best. If I could help that young woman, I’d say it was worth it.”
“Was that your only reason?”
“Yes, should there be another reason?”
Kira glanced at the man, then plainly asked. “Where were you at one in the morning?”
“Here, at home asleep.”
She looked at him. “Were you doing anything that night?”
“Yes, I was at a local pub called Phantom. An old friend of mine owns it. I go there from time to time, chat about things, life and so on. I was there until eleven thirty and was home by twelve-thirty. The traffic home was abysmal due to an accident on the highway. If you wish to check, you can talk to him. His name is Bishop Huxley, though he tends to be a bit… skeptical of law enforcement.”
“In what way?”
“Past experiences, sadly, that is all I can tell you. If you wish to know more, you will have to ask him yourselves.”
What are you, his therapist? Kira thought with slight disdain, only to look back to her notes when his gaze went right to her as if he could read her mind. “Is there anyone else? Who can confirm where you were?”
The doorbell rang; Alastor then excused himself to answer the door. From where Kira was, she could see onto the front porch where a girl who looked to be in her mid-teens stood. She had a relatively thin build, warm tanned skin and wavy black hair, though her mismatched eyes held Kira’s attention the most.
“Hi Mr. Hilmarsson, sorry to come by unannounced, I uh… I think I forgot something.”
“The book you were reading, yes, I saw it on the coffee table in the living room. It’s still in the same place as you left it. One moment.” Alastor then walked into the house and picked up a book with an artistic image of an Asian woman with green robes and face paint before walking back to the door. Only to pause. “Actually, Miss. Ortiz, are one of your parents at home? There are some detectives here who need to clarify something and will probably need your statement.”
The girl looked startled. “What really? Was it about the accident on the road that you saw or the woman who hit you?”
She knows about both; I guess she’s not lying. Probably the sitter. Kira thought as Alastor handed the girl the book, who now looked worried, couldn’t blame her for that.
“They just need to know when I came home,” he says with a smile.
“If it’s just for that, then I don’t think my… actually wait. I’ll tell them.” She then rushed off across the street to the home she lived in. Not a minute later, the teen’s mother came out, with strides, she held the air of an angry lioness, dressed in jeans and a loose-flowing black blouse that had a flower pattern.
“Hello, Mrs. Ortiz. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
“None needed, dear. Not the first time we’ve had to talk to the police. I only hope these don’t jump the gun like they do in the States.”
Freddie gave a low soft whistle, clearly remarking on the insult, but could understand, that those of colour were always judged first by apparencies, and given the fact the woman spoke of the Sates and her accent, they weren’t from here.
The two then entered Alastor’s home and were met with tense warry gazes of the mother and daughter, though they didn’t seem to hold much in common besides the young girl’s dark right eye. She must have taken after her father then.
“Detectives’,” Alastor spoke, drawing everyone’s attention. “I do hope this is all right, given that you would have gone across the street to speak to her.”
Kira looked at the youth. Who seemed to grip her right forearm, was it injured?
“It’s okay,” Alastor said softly, as he stood beside her before looking to the two detectives with a look that said: “Ask your question.”
“It’s nothing to be wary over,” Kira says to the teen. “We just want to confirm his time of departure and return home.” The mother didn’t seem to believe that as she folded her arms across her chest with a disapproving look. It made Kira think of her own mother.
“Mr. Hilmarsson left a little bit after eight PM; he was showing me around his house and things I needed to be aware of before he left. His daughter and I then looked at the book I brought. She’d never heard of it before, so I read a bit to her before going to bed. Her Dad, uh, Mr. Hilmarsson, then came back around twelve-thirty since there was an accident. He even called that he was going to be delayed because of it and apologized.”
“She then called home,” her mother interjected. “Let us know about the delay where her brother then went to get her when Mr. Hilmarsson returned home.”
Kira looked from the woman to the teen then to Alastor. It didn’t seem like it was rehearsed, though the teen’s mother did not look pleased in the slightest. She might have been a lawyer. Wonderful.
“I see,”
“I think that’s all we’ll need,” Freddie added, causing Kira to look at him with a frown, but that changed when he indicated to his phone, making her understand why. The autopsy was complete, and the courier had news regarding it that they needed to know.
“Thank you for your time,” Kira said, then added. “I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
The man didn’t seem bothered. “You were merely doing your jobs, I understand.” He then led them to the door, and with that same smile, he said. “I hope you find whoever did this and bring them swiftly to justice.”
* * *
Kira never liked heading to the morgue, mainly due to the smell. It was just something about it that always made her queasy, something she’d never admit even after being on the force for ten years.
“What did you find, Liam?” Freddie asked the coroner.
“I can tell you what I didn’t find, no signs of smoke inhalation. This woman wasn’t killed when the fire began. It happened well before.” The coroner, Liam Chen, said while looking over his notes.
“Estimated time of death?” Kira asked.
“Around eleven to midnight, but that might be scud due to the basement’s temperature. When you’re taking care of plants, you’d want to keep the area warm, but from what your guys could find, it was the opposite.”
Freddie confirmed this. “Yeah, the thermostat was set to the lowest it could go. Even with the fire, it was pretty damn cold down in the basement.”
“Any sign of her missing limbs?” Kira asked
“No, the forensics team is taking a closer look at the tree she was in, but from the report, it was just a prop that had been left in that basement for some time now. While the flowers that were put in the open cavity were from her shop.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” Liam handed Kira the clipboard with all his notes. “Many of her internal organs had been removed. And from the looks of it, the killer did it when she was alive, the same with her limbs, and of course, done with clean medical percussion.”
Kira’s gaze shot up from the notes and then down to the body as that feeling in the pit of her stomach came back in full force. “He’s back.” Her voice held venom when she spoke as her anger began to swell within her chest.
Cadavre Exquis (Exquisite Corpse).
A serial killer known for turning people’s corpses into deranged pieces of art and would never kill the same way again; the reason for this was how the bodies would look and for another reason that the body would never be whole. Parts would always be missing.
An arm, a leg, lungs, heart, kidneys, liver, and even the brain.
Anything this monster could get his hands on. Worst of all, these people who were killed would, almost always, always be alive when it was happening.
The reason for it was unknown. Nor was it known to the public for obvious reasons.
The reason why these people were being killed was also unknown; all other victims by him never had any connection to one another.
He would kill indiscriminately. It didn’t matter the person’s ethnicity, gender or sexuality. He would kill all, and that was the worst type of murder. It’d be easier if he had a type, then they’d at least have something to work off of.
Even the FBI had been called in on two separate occasions in the past few years, and they never did shit to help. They always claimed that they would find the culprit, only for another to happen, then another, and another. It was endless.
Meaning that they were left to deal with what they couldn’t find.
A ghost of a man who killed, never leaving a single trace of their existence.
A murderer that Kira vowed to find, no matter the cost.