It wasn’t a day Kira liked to remember.
Or could ever forget.
But the events of this recent case, and what happened four years ago the similarities were something that Kira couldn’t help but think over.
Three months before, Louis was acting odd, even though they had just finished with a routine house call, for what Kira could recall since she was dealing with her girlfriend and an obsessive ex that wouldn’t leave Lu alone, in certain cases, while important, seemed to be of little consequence than an ex claiming to want to smash Kira’s skull in and other forms of physical threats as well as a cancer scare with her Dad. It all felt overwhelming, and work felt of little importance at the time.
She noticed how Louis was being rather secretive, working late into the night and starting right at dawn. It was as if he were driven by some unseen force, he seemed focused on one particular thing, would go on stakeouts without telling anyone, and declined help from others, even from Freddie.
Louis was on the fast track to becoming a detective and would have been a damn good one with how thorough he was with his work.
Many thought he was just working on something for the long haul, old cases that were never solved since he did it as a hobby and had solved one at the start of his police career.
But, one day, he suddenly went dark, and no one heard from him for days.
This was unusual because he would at least keep others informed of what he was doing in case something went sideways. Yet there was nothing.
On the fourth day, Kira began to think the worst. That day she had been trying to get in touch with Louis. Until the call of a body being found at St. Michael's Cathedral Basilica, the body was posed like Jesus Christ, nailed to a cross, crown of thorns and all. Kira was one of the officers that were close by and rushed to the scene all the while planning on calling Louis’s wife afterwards to see if she knew anything about her missing husband.
Such thoughts came to a screeching halt when she entered the cathedral, and saw Louis. His hands and feet were nailed to a wooden cross that had been hoisted up by a thick rope, eyes half open and head tilted in the way Jesus would have been in all motifs of the cross. Even his blond hair had been touched up to look like the man who died for everyone’s sins.
Even the stab wounds where Jesus had been pierced were the same.
All Kira could do was stand there in the cathedral and look up at her now-deceased partner, unable to do or say anything before being led away by Freddie. He was trying to comfort her, but none of his words penetrated the fog of shock that overtook her mind.
No one knew how Louis got there, and rumours of a serial killer plaguing the province of Ontario and Canada as a whole, for the past few years now, even Kira knew about such a person, and always questioned what drove such a person to kill in such morbid ways. A person who went by the name Cadavre Exquis, Exquisite Corpse.
The name was given as the killer would pose the bodies like works of art, and, almost always, removed their organs and limbs while the victims were still alive. Meaning that they would feel everything that was happening to them before death.
The person who named them this was some overzealous reporter wanting to gain notoriety and even coined the name for rights to the name.
Though some speculated that whoever killed Louis was imitating this serial killer, because it wasn’t painfully obvious that his organs and or limbs were taken until they got Louis back at the station’s morgue, where they found that he had been embalmed, given makeup to look as though he were alive, and almost invisible stitching, revealing that he had been cut open, his heart had been expertly removed and replaced with a robin. One that had been made as if it were asleep.
Strangely, this was done to him after death, and not while like how Cadavre Exquis had been known to kill his victims. This was different from the usual MO.
What’s more, his neck had been snapped. Louis died instantly.
The killer wanted Louis to be preserved, almost as if he wanted Louis to last forever.
But why?
What made this killer change his way of killing when it came to Louis? What did Louis find about him?
Was this a warning, or a message to others?
Either way, regardless of what it meant it mattered little to Kira, this monster killed someone whom she looked up to, and admired. She would make the bastard pay, no matter what, she swore she’d take Cadavre Exquis down no matter what.
“So,” Freddie’s voice pulled her back to the present. “From the documents I’ve gathered, I’ve found nothing that connected the two. Although, from what we do know, Father Patrick would do what he could to protect the youths from getting into trouble. Especially from their parents who were accepting of their kid’s sexuality. However, there is one thing I did find from asking around before coming back to the station.”
“And that would be what?”
“The victims in question had quite the bone to pick with a certain type of individuals.” He said as he sifted through his notes.
The two had gone their separate ways after finding the initial bodies, mainly because Kira still had paperwork to catch up on, looking at other leads for a few other cases to see where that might lead anywhere if at all, something she always struggled when it came to time management. “Which one?”
“The Irish. Apparently, from what’s been looked into, the husband and wife refused to allow anyone with “dirty red-head devil blood’ into their shop. Even though Giovanni’s sister, Eloisa, would try to do so before her brother kicked her out of the store calling her a: ‘Irish loving whore’. And that if she loved them more than family, to just go join those drunken devils.”
Christ. “Maybe that’s why they were in the church? It was built by the Irish back in 1852.” Similar to how St. Michael’s was also financed by Irish immigrants.
“That could explain why, but how do you know that Song?”
“My mom’s Irish, back when I used to go to church regularly, St. Mary’s was where we’d be every Sunday. Till I turned Atheist.”
“Really? How’d that go in telling them?”
She shrugged. “My parents openly accepted the fact that I like women, and only women when I was thirteen. Something like religion kind of becomes just another part to accept or not. My parents were happy for me and were overjoyed that I trusted them to tell them, if anything, my Dad keeps asking when the wedding is. And my Mom continues to support and even aids those who are LGBTQ+ with that of the Metropolitan United Church.” She then changed the topic back to the case. “It’s been years since I was there, but I don’t think there were any security cameras.”
“Your perception isn’t wrong. There was one camera by the front and back door, however, those are just for show. They’re mainly props to scare off anyone who might want to steal something.”
“But not good enough to deter a serial killer…” Kira muttered to herself before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Great, just great.”
Freddie was silent for a moment. “Nothing about this Ghost Woman?”
“Absolutely nothing, the hair fibres are from a synthetic wig, and no prints. It’s another dead end, just like all the others.”
“Don’t be so hasty to call up defeat.”
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“I’m not, just annoyed with the number of dead ends that we keep running into.”
“Then let’s go looking, I still need to go speak to the father who was harassed by Giovanni Sarto, and Sarto’s sister.”
Kira looked at him. “You have the father’s address?”
With confidence, he held it up between his index and middle fingers. “From the officer who had taken the father’s statement, got it a little after we came back from the church.” He looked at her. “So? You up for it?”
“If it means I get away from doing more paperwork for more than an hour, yes.”
Freddie stood up with a slight smirk on his face. “Then let’s get to it.”
* * *
An hour later, close to four, Kira and Freddie were at a home out of the city. Where a ramp had been built to accommodate a wheelchair, and it looked as though there had been an addition done to it as well since it was a bungalow-style home.
The two walked up to the front door only to hear the sound of something being done in the garage, they looked at each other before walking over to the open garage to see a tall man working at a woodworking table, with music from Hank Williams’s Alone and Forsaken playing from a tape deck radio that was atop a metal shelf.
The whole garage gave off a type of man who worked with his hands, Kira’s eyes then went to a motorcycle with a sidecar attached. It was a Harley Davidson 1990 soft tail.
Dang. Nice.
“Jole Miller?” the man paused when Kira spoke the man’s name. He then turned, showing a face with black-bearded face, with pale skin that became tanned from the countless hours of being in the sun which brought contrast to the bright blue eyes as he was dressed in a black plaid shirt, its sleeves rolled up, jeans, and steel-toed boots.
Bear mixed with a lumberjack was surprisingly accurate.
What Anthony didn’t include was just how tall this man was, a sturdy six-foot-two.
He leaned against the workbench. “Yes?” the man had a rather calm even voice form such a physical figure. And even though it might not have been the intention but he gave off a rather intimidating aura. Though that might just be because of his height and muscular build.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Freddie spoke up as he didn’t seem bothered. “My name is Fredrick Louds, and this is my partner, Kira Song.”
Joel eyed them both. “Is this about what happened with that man who variably abused my kid, officers?”
“Yes, merely some follow-up questions, if you don’t mind.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I do mind, I get that it’s your job, but there’s nothing else I can tell you besides what I’ve already said to the last police officer. That man said that my kid is better off dead because she’s a blight on society. My little girl. The man’s lucky I didn’t toss his ass back through his store window. As tempting as it was.” He muttered that last part. “If that’s why you’re here, I can tell you that I didn’t go out to hurt him, I was helping my neighbour, Tess, with an issue with her drain pipes.”
“And where were you last night at three in the morning?”
Joel frowned but answered. “Asleep, and before you ask, I have cameras in and outside the house to prove it. With how things are with the recent break-ins I want to make sure that we’re safe. I can send you the recordings if need be.”
“Whose Tess?” Kira asked.
“Tess Williams, her daughter Ellie is the same age as my daughter. They often hang out with each other.” Joel added before the garage attached to the house opened, Joel silently went over to the open door. “Sarah, you need something?”
“I saw a car pull up, is it a friend?”
“No, it’s the police,” he crouched down so that his daughter wouldn’t have to look up at him from her motorized wheelchair. “They’re here to ask some questions about what happened, after the doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh,” the tone of the girl’s voice sounded worried. “Are… are we in trouble?”
“No baby, we aren’t. They just want to confirm some things.” He then glanced at the officers. “You don’t need anything from her, do you?”
“No,” Freddie says. “Not at all.”
Joel looked back at his daughter and smiled. “See? It’ll be alright. Why not go back and play your game? You said you were getting better in Unravelled.”
“Okay,” when the girl turned her chair around and left Joel brought the door partly closed.
“He’s dead isn’t he,” Joel said as if it were fact rather than a question. When neither responded the man added. “I suppose that’s not surprising. If he was so pissed off from seeing a girl in a wheelchair. I can only imagine him going off on the wrong person.”
Well, he’s got that right. Kira thought deadpan. As much as she hated Cadavre Exquis she couldn’t feel much in the way of sympathy for the man that was killed.
“But like I said I did nothing to him. As much as I hated the man it would be a waste of energy and time to deal with some small, pathetic, angry man with a disgusting outlook on those with disabilities. Whoever did kill him though I can say that whoever he pissed off was someone he probably never expected would cost him his life.”
* * *
“That was exhausting…” Kira said with an exasperated sigh when they drove away from Joel Miller’s home before looking at the time, it was nearly five in the early evening. “So, now what do we do?”
“Well, we still need to speak with Eloisa, so we’re not done just yet.” He paused glancing at her and asked. “Still not sleeping properly?” Kira didn’t answer. “Maybe it’s time to see a specialist for this.”
“Seeing a specialist will take months, and even then, it’ll take even more months until I get told what’s wrong with me.” And no amount of medication or meditation will change it. At least not until that bastard is finally caught.
“Alright, but you should at least get it looked at still, that kind of thing can become worse the older you get.”
Kira glanced away. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, though she didn’t have to since Freddie changed the subject.
“Did you see Miller’s bike in the garage? Man, I’d love to have something like that in my life one day.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You want a motorcycle?”
“Not just any motorcycle, I’d love to get a Harley.”
“I didn’t know you were into bikes.”
Freddie shrugged. “Well, I have my licence, but I haven’t found the time, or budget to get one. One day though.”
“And how’s the wife feel about that?”
His smile grew. “Oh, she thought I was nuts, but when I showed her the bike I was looking at, she started to warm up to the idea. Going out on Sunday, for a long drive on old back country roads. Same for the kids.”
“They have no problems with it?”
“You kidding? They think it’s cool!”
Kira found herself laughing, the feeling of agitation she had was slowly starting to find her sense of humour again, she hoped that it would last as they continued down the streets of Toronto to their next location.
* * *
Sarto Tailor’s was near the outskirts of Little Italy in Toronto. The smell of food, and people milling about, a mixture of languages, as people were trying to get good deals on things or haggle for them.
Kira never really ventured into Little Italy all that much, never had a reason to. But it did have its charm, much like every other multicultural area in the city.
Much like the building itself where the shop was also part of a high-end apartment complex. It even had a plaque for how many years it had been making suites for not only men but women and even started to branch out for kids. From the looks of it, it started after the second world war. And for it to last this long said a lot about how the business was run.
When they entered the shop Kira saw a small thin woman, was about five foot two in height, with mousy brown hair tied up in a braided bun, dark brown eyes framed by a thin pair of oval glasses and dressed almost as if she were an Edwardian time traveller as she wore a high collar long-sleeved white blouse, with a broach and a long tweed brown skirt. Heck, even her shoes looked to be from another time.
Eloisa Sarto looked at them both before going to a place in the store where a computer was all set up. “Hello, how may I help you?”
“We’re detectives Louds and Song, I called earlier about needing to speak with you,” Freddie said.
Her shoulders became tense. “Yes, if you’d follow me, I have a place upstairs where we can talk in private.” She then led them to a set of stairs in the back before going up them, Kira noticed how she didn’t even hold up her skirt as she walked up the stairs. Noticing how the fabric seemed a bit stiff than other skirts. Kira wondered if this woman made the skirt herself. When Eloisa opened another door, it led to a rather large apartment, and from the looks of things, it looked to be two floors. “Since my brother and his wife went missing, I received calls from regulars asking me to take over what was needed for them, so it’s been left to me to look after the shop.” She said as she went into the decent-sized kitchen. “Are you alright with coffee?”
“You don’t need to get us anything,” Kira responded.
Eloisa stopped, before going over to a nearby chair in the living room area and sat down. “Did you find my brother?”
“In sorts,” Freddie spoke. “However, and I’m sorry to say this, your brother and his wife were murdered, and found in St Mary’s Church.”
Then silence.
“What…?” her voice came out weakly.
Kira glanced at Freddie; did he not tell the woman?
Then again, if Freddie had, it could lead to problems with asking questions.
“Is he actually?”
“Yes,” Freddie responded with a curt nod.
Eloisa moved to sit in a nearby chair, elbows resting on the table as a hand touched her forehead. “Our father always did warn Giovanni that if he continued to act like he was superior to others it would come back to bite him. It only became worse when he met Miriana.” She let out a breath, and then immediately shifted into a more stoic expression, sitting properly with her hands in her lap. As if a switch had been flipped regarding professionalism.
It was certainly something, to say the least.
“What do you need from me?”
Freddie was about to speak only for a buzzer to go off.
“What’s that?” Kira asked.
“A customer,” Eloisa said as she stood up and moved to the door that led back downstairs. “I have an order waiting; he did say he was coming by to pick it up. Apologize, do you mind waiting here while I go and take care of it?”
“Sure,” Freddie says as Kira fought the urge to sigh in annoyance.
She smiled. “Thank you,” and then went downstairs to greet this customer, and faintly heard a name. No freaking way.
She went down a few steps while ignoring the puzzled look from her partner, who ultimately joined, possibly to keep her out of trouble, and saw who it was that came.
Alastor Hilmarsson.