51

  Night had settled in and put its feet up by the time Nairo and Ridley arrived at the morgue. Ridley argued briefly with cabbie, trying to swindle him out of his two coins, before Nairo kicked him in the calf and paid the driver. Ridley grumbled all the way to the back entrance to the morgue. Nairo ignored him and knocked on the door. It opened a moment later, and Drake stood there in a bloody apron and mask that covered the lower half of his face.

  “Ahh Sally!” he said in his odd, lilting voice. “Come in.”

  “Thank you Drake,” Nairo said, smiling up at him.

  “Ridley,” Drake said, nodding coolly at the PI.

  “Draco,” Ridley said with a nod. “Messy dinner?”

  Drake looked down at his bloody apron and then gave Ridley a weak smile. He had given up trying to convince Ridley he wasn’t a vampyr and now just silently accepted the little bags of mysterious blood Ridley would slip him every now and again with a wink and nudge.

  They walked through the chilly morgue and Nairo noted it was more empty than the last time she had been here. Although there was a fresh load of bodies, wrapped in white cloth, awaiting the coroner.

  “Are those the OD’s from last night?” Nairo asked.

  “Yes, just as we were clearing the last few, more have shown up.” Drake sighed, wringing his rubber gloved hands.

  Nairo shook her head sadly at the bodies.

  “It’s such a waste,” she said quietly as Ridley breezed past them to the main room.

  “So what did you discover?” Ridley asked as he lit a smoke. “Please tell me LaRue had a name carved into her flesh somewhere, maybe with an address of our killer.”

  “Killer?” Drake said. “Ms. LaRue wasn’t murdered, she overdosed.”

  “Yeah right,” Ridley said, dismissively waving his smoke for Drake to continue.

  “So you’re sure it was an overdose?” Nairo asked him.

  Drake nodded and pointed at a body on the cold, octagonal stone slab in the middle of the room.

  “The poor thing,” Drake said, a tear glistening in his eye. “She was so young.”

  “So you’ve got nothing for us?” Ridley asked. “No signs of injuries? Nothing that suggests maybe she was poisoned? Anything?”

  “Ahh well…” Drake floated over to the file he had been filling out. “There are two interesting discoveries.”

  “What?” Nairo asked.

  “Firstly, and tragically, Ms. LaRue was with child."

  “What?” Ridley said, his smoke paused at his lips.

  “She was pregnant. Perhaps only a few months, but most certainly pregnant.”

  “And the second?” Nairo asked as pieces of the case began to clunk into place in her mind.

  “She had a rather interesting mouth rot,” Drake said.

  “Mouth rot?” Ridley repeated.

  “Yes. At the back of her mouth. It seemed unusually aggressive. I thought it was strange since Ms. LaRue had perfect teeth otherwise. She clearly looked after her oral hygiene,” Drake said.

  “Mouth rot?” Nairo muttered to herself. “Can we see?”

  Drake put the file down and walked over to the body. With a slow, reverential movement, he lowered the sheet to reveal Lana’s face. They had investigated her for so long now and in such depth, but this was the first time Nairo had ever seen the starlet’s face in person. She wished she hadn’t. Those pictures and paintings of her so full of life and energy seemed mocking now. Her flesh was pale and pallid. Discolouration had begun to set in, and her skin had gone dry and paper-like. Her eyes were sunken, and her lips had shrivelled. She had also begun to smell. The scent of rotting flesh wafting from her. She looked like some excavated fossil—not a once in a generation beauty.

  Carefully, Drake prised her mouth open with a metal implement and then flicked on a glowstone and held it up. Nairo, covering her nose as the smell of rot intensified, peered into her mouth. Drake was right. She had perfect white teeth, but at the back of her mouth, there was a black, mould like, rot forming.

  “What is that?” Nairo asked, stepping back.

  “I’m not sure,” Drake said, closing Lana’s mouth and pulling the cover back over her face. “I have never seen something like it before.”

  “Did you find any other signs of drug abuse?” Ridley asked, his eyebrows drawn together in thought.

  “None of the usual signs,” Drake said. “There were no cuts, no damage to her gums, teeth, hair, or nostrils. Her skin was healthy and unblemished. Ms. LaRue was seemingly in perfect health.”

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  “That doesn’t sound weird to you?” Ridley asked.

  “What do you mean?” Drake asked.

  “Young girl finds out she’s pregnant. Stops taking any drugs or drink, then OD’s?” Ridley muttered.

  “Ms. LaRue was an unfortunate victim of this Bad Batch of Burn,” Drake said. “I have had dozens of similar cases. It seems that a single use can kill.”

  “Why should she be doing Burn while she’s pregnant?” Ridley snapped.

  “I…I…” Drake stammered, and Nairo placed a gentle hand on his arm.

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered to him. “He’s talking more to himself at this point.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Ridley said again, beginning to pace. “We know Shumacker. He was ready to run away with her like he did with his wife. Why would he kill her if she was pregnant with his child?”

  “Who is Shumacker?” Drake said. “I told you, Ms. LaRue…”

  Nairo shook her head at him.

  “Maybe he wanted to cover it up?” Ridley muttered to himself. “Hide it from his wife… No, he didn’t give a shit about his wife. Why would he need to cover anything up? He was brazen. He’s an Owner. He does what he wants with whoever he wants… If he planned on offing her, why go to such lengths? Poison? Cover ups? He could have just made her disappear. But she’s high profile. Even her disappearing would raise questions… Shit!” Ridley stopped his pacing and threw his smoke on the floor, stamping it out bad temperedly. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

  Nairo sighed and looked back at Lana LaRue’s body.

  “I’m sorry Sally,” Drake said. “I wish I had more for you.”

  “It’s okay Drake,” Nairo said, giving him a small smile. “I really appreciate all that you’ve done.”

  Drake nodded, absentmindedly wringing his hands for a moment before perking up.

  "Ahh, but I do have these for you!” He bustled away and returned a moment later with some dog eared filed in his hands. “I found those reports you requested.”

  “For the three women?” Nairo asked.

  “Yes. It took a bit of finding; the record department is in a shocking state. But here they are: the coroner reports for Stacey Alibaster and Gwen Fortuna.”

  Nairo accepted them from Drake while Ridley continued to pace and murmur to himself, stopping occasionally to curse and scratch his hair. Nairo scanned through the files absentmindedly. She had already read the police reports and doubted the coroner's report would say anything different. As she flicked through Stacey Alibaster’s file, she froze. She flicked back a page and read again. She then flicked forward and read intently.

  “Ridley… Ridley!”

  “What?”

  “Look!” Nairo pointed to the file.

  “Now’s not the time for reading, Sarge.” Ridley said, waving her off.

  “Look you idiot! Stacey Alibaster had mouth rot!”

  “What? The first mistress?” Ridley charged over and grabbed the file from her.

  Nairo picked up the second file and hastily flipped through it. She squeaked in excitement as she read.

  “Don’t tell me,” Ridley said, looking up at her.

  “Gwen Fortuna, decay of the back portion of her mouth!” Nairo read excitedly.

  “That ain’t no coincidence!” Ridley said. “Stacey, Gwen, Lana, they’ve all got rot in the back of their mouths?”

  “Cecilia Brown!” Nairo exclaimed. “Drake, have you still got Cecilia Brown’s body?”

  Drake looked at them and suddenly felt very flustered with all the excitement.

  “Oh… umm… I… perhaps… Let me check!” Drake cried as he ran off to check the records. He came sprinting back, red faced, less than a minute later. “She’s still here!”

  “Then bring her out and crack her mouth open!” Ridley shouted at him.

  “Follow me!” Drake sprinted away again, almost slipping on the slick tiles.

  They ran after him to the cold storage room. It was freezing in here, but Nairo was sweating. Her heart was racing. Could this be the final piece of the puzzle? Would they finally have proof that these women did not overdose but were murdered in cold blood?

  Drake pulled a drawer open to reveal Cecilia’s stiff body. Carefully, he prised open her mouth and lit his glowstone torch. All three of them fought to peer into her mouth.

  “That’s rot!” Ridley cried out.

  “Hold on!” Drake said, shifting the torch and looking closer.

  “Is it?” Nairo asked.

  “I believe… it is.” Drake looked up at them with a mixture of horror and fascination. “The same rot as Ms. LaRue.”

  “And the same rot present in the mouths of Stacey Alibaster and Gwen Fortuna!” Nairo barely stopped herself from punching the air in triumph. “Do you know what this means?” she said to Ridley.

  “That all four are connected. All four of them were murdered and probably in the same way, almost a decade apart.” Ridley said.

  “And the only link between the four of them is Shumacker!” Nairo said breathlessly.

  “We already knew this, though.” Ridley said, crossing his arms.

  “But this is proof! This is evidence! We can take this to the police now. We can go after Shumacker legitimately. This is hard evidence, Ridley!”

  “Is it?” Ridley asked before looking at Drake. “Could this be evidence of poisoning? You know, like a poison that causes mouth rot or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Drake said. “This isn’t an area I am knowledgeable in, but it is a possibility. Some poisons are known to cause decay and cell death.”

  “We need more,” Ridley said. “We need to know what the bastard is using.”

  “Can you find out for us?” Nairo asked Drake.

  “I can look into it,” Drake said. “But with all these fresh OD’s it may take some time.”

  “We don’t have time,” Ridley snapped.

  “What Ridley means,” Nairo said, shooting Ridley a hot look. “Is that we would really appreciate if you could look into this as soon as possible, Drake. There are lives on the line.”

  “And the fucker that killed Lana LaRue has all the gold in the world to skip town and disappear,” Ridley said. “We need to get him, and get him fast.”

  Drake looked around and then back over his shoulder at LaRue’s body before giving them a determined nod.

  “I will not allow Ms. LaRue’s killer to evade justice!” he said, holding up his gloved fists. “Give me 48 hours, and I will have an answer for you!”

  “And while you do that,” Nairo said, her nose back in the files. “We should go pay a visit to this doctor… Watkins.”

  “Who?” Ridley said.

  “He’s listed a doctor for all the mistresses while they were still working for the theatre, maybe he can shed some light on what happened to them?”

  “Worth a shot,” Ridley said. “Let’s go see Dr. Watkins.”