If you want to understand the events in Part 2 better, please refer to Part 1 of my story "Thorn in the Flesh". You can find it on my feed. :-)
Well, this is going to be Part 2 of the story... Will we find out who is the killer in this episode? Will there be any clues that lead to this illusive person? Let's find out...
Smoke poured from his mouth as he put down the cigarette and exhaled. Peter Goodall sat in his leather chair with pictures of the victim in her "musical" position, a thick case file, and stationary littering the desk in front of him. He hadn't slept since he was called to the scene at something before 1 a.m. that morning. He remembered that David Johnson was sitting opposite him in a leather chair as well...
David shook his head as he took the photos and studied it, "Shit! That's what this is! A whole damn pile of it!" David tossed the photos back onto the desk and shook his head again. Peter looked at him as if in amusement. He tilted his head to the side and picked up his cigarette again. He sucked on the cigarette and another plume of smoke followed as the cigarette was gently placed on the rim of the ashtray again. He thought...
David understood his former-partner well enough to know that he had to leave him in silence, but it was really growing old. He had been sitting in his 'smokey' office since 4 a.m. - it was 7 a.m. already.
"Well!? What have you got?" David bellowed desperately, and a brief silence followed.
"This killer knows something about music..." Peter said stolidly, with no hint of any intelligence in his voice.
David got up out of his chair in a flurry and tossed his arms in the air, "Bloody of course! He or she knows what a freakin' minim looks like! Useless information!" David went to the window and peaked out of the window by tugging a little at the closed shutters.
"I'd say it's a crochet..." Peter said and David frowned as deeply as he sighed. He turned around and Peter pulled out the picture of the corpse in its position. "You were too shocked to notice that the killer poured blood between the victim's lower and upper leg. Remember, she was laid with her legs tied up behind her..."
"Yes... That means the killer-"
"I Googled music notes and found this picture..." He pulled up the picture on his laptop.
"
"This can mean only one thing..." David said as he went to sit in his chair again.
"The killer is starting at a 'lesser note', and is going to work his way up till he kills the 'major note'... a semibreve..."
"Me..." David said and Peter could only nod his head as he lifted his shoulders.
His wife -Christina- frowned at him as he trudged into the house at around 8 a.m. She was in her gown holding a cup of coffee.
"Where were you? I was worried sick..." She left her frown and coffee on the counter and ran to hug him. He hugged her back, but not with much enthusiasm.
"I'm one note away from death..." David said and Christina let go of him with a frown.
"What? Are you quoting Bach again?" She asked and attempted to laugh.
"No... There was a murder at the music school... Someone who knows about music, someone who premeditated it... He left the teacher in the shape of a crochet..."
"He? You know that much?" His wife was sharp. After being married to a detective for 7 years, she had picked up a few tricks. She almost handled his cases heartlessly, just as he had asked her to. One night long ago she asked to sit with him as he studied a gang-rape murder case. She had seen the pictures of the victim and burst out in tears. David hugged her and told her that she had to look at the cases heartlessly, like he did...
"The killer laid the woman down there in the position of a crochet, and there was blood in the corridor... The suspect carried her, and no woman I know would have been able to carry the victim all that distance. That teacher likes her hamburgers too much. It was probably a man."
"Never underestimate your suspect..." His wife said and shook her head. "What makes you so sure that you are '1 note away from death'?"
"First the killer took a 'crochet', then comes a minim, and then a semibreve." I am the chairman and therefore, I must be the semibreve."
"You seem to have forgotten your music theory..." She pulled him by the arm to his music room. She showed him the poster against the wall. "4 crochets is equal to a semibreve... 2 minims is equal to a semibreve..."
"And?" He asked confused...
"And!?" his wife shook her head, "This means, that before the killer reaches you only after 3 more crochets, or 1 'minim' and a 'crochet'... In other words, if the killer is concerned with music theory, he or she will first kill a few others before coming to you, you can't fit in the music bar if there is a crochet there already."
"Well, that's good news..." He said and sent his hand through his hair...
"And you're happy with knowing you're going to die, but you don't want to do anything about it?"
"Like what, Christina?"
"Find the killer! Get up off your ass and find the killer!"
"That is Peter's job... Lest you've forgotten, I am only the chairman of a music school, not the local private-eye... Anymore."
"And lest you've forgotten, your gun is in the safe... Take it out and strap it on... You are better than Peter ever will be at this job. I remember the days when you brought in killers with little to no evidence; where you found drug caches and made arrests like gang leaders, as well as multi-million Rand owners of companies; and where you were able to trace murderers to the very couch on which they sat with E-VI-DENCE. You have a lot of E-VI-DENCE in this case, take it and find the killer..." She stood back and was about to exit the room, "And remember, crochets and minims have families too..."
'She always seems to speak in metaphors... Yes, the people killed have families... I know... I will find this killer, and I will bring him or her to justice...' He thought to himself as he walked out of the room. He immediately went to the safe and retrieved his gun in its holster. He cleaned it and loaded it with bullets and put a few magazines in his pocket. He got in his car and was driving down to Peter's office to get a copy of the case file when he got a phone call. He answered his hands-free kit.
"This is David..."
"David... Come quick... Music school..." Peter said out of breath and sounded jittery. He hung up immediately.
"Aw no... Not another one..."
09:29 a.m.
David walked into the music school right passed officers who only nodded at him -no restraints this time. He followed a blood trail being investigated and his heart sank. 'No... No... No...'
He ran down the hallway right into another teacher's room. Peter looked at him...
"Blimey... Another crochet..."
Peter was worried - David could see it. When Peter started worrying, he often babbled.
"What on earth-" David was interrupted.
"This is a bloody mess! Another one dead on MY investigation! This is outrageous!"
"Hold on!" David shouted, and then calmed down, "Have you set up a search of the perimeter? Anything caught on the security footage? The K9 unit find something?"
Peter frowned, "What's gotten into you? You're not that sorry for yourself old mutt that dragged his bottom out of my office a few hours ago."
"Let's just say my wife kicked me under my bottom, and I got up from the floor. Now, answer my questions!"
"Well, I have had the security footage scanned through ten times by computers, people, anyone/thing I could find with sense was posted in front of a computer and nobody came up! The K9 unit found nothing accept a piece of tossed away hamburger in the trash can over there, it must be 4 days old." Peter said, panicking.
"Then there is a 'Phantom of the Opera' in the music school, and I intend to catch him before I'm singing Andrew Lloyd Weber on MY funeral!" David said and tried to keep his heart rate from going haywire with excitement.
"Hold on, I think this 'Phantom' you are talking about is a 'She-Phantom'." Peter frowned and pointed at nail scratch marks on the victim's exposed shoulder, "We got here whiled she was still breathing, but, we got nothing out of her and she kicked the bucket before paramedics arrived -they probably got lost somewhere. Bastards."
"I think we have to search the music school..." David said and he nodded his head as if to confirm his own thoughts.
"Hold on. I think let us investigate this scene for any more clues." Peter interrupted on David's idea. David nodded.
They looked at the scene and found it had been hastily cleaned, with a sponge, and most of the blood had been sucked up. No effort had been made to conceal the way the victim had died. Her throat had been sliced open and the killer had dug her hands into the throat while the victim was still alive to pull out some sort of internal organ...
"Dear God, killers have no lack in inventiveness." Peter said with a wrenching stomach as he studied the fatal wound.
"As if God had something to do with it..." David said dryly to himself and shook his head. 'God isn't in Cape Town this time of year.'
"How do we determine who the killer will go for next? This phantom is as clever as a bloody serpent!" Peter anguished.
David made up his mind... he wouldn't search the building today -he might end up being killed. He took pictures and then looked at the scene, he smelled the air -moldy, bloody, sweaty. He walked out of the room.
"Oh, Peter, I want a case file. Have the clerk send me the updated file before 1 p.m." David didn't look at Peter as he walked down the hall.
Peter was very thankful to have his leader back in a certain sense, and he called down after David, "Yes sir!"
Christina had finished cleaning the house when David arrived back home. He hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. She smelled a little sweaty and the verifiable aroma of Pine Gel was all over the house.
"You find something with Peter at the office?" She asked with a knowing tone in her voice.
"I found another crochet -corpse number 2." David said and pulled up pictures on his phone.
"Dear God, I hope she believed in You Lord Jesus..." Christina muttered a prayer upon sight of the open throat.
"What would it help her anyway? God doesn't exist!" David snapped.
"Just because you deny finding evidence, it doesn't mean that it isn't there..." She got up into his face and spoke to him in a soft tone, "You know as well as I that God exists, you just can't bare the thought of having someone in charge of you, can you?"
She stormed off into their bedroom and shut the door. He lifted his hands into the air, "That was sudden! It is unnecessary Christina! I don't need that!"
'Why did she always get so upset? And that about... 'God'... What if she's right... I did believe in God till... Till... what happened... '
He went to his music room and shut the door. He got on his knees and muttered a short prayer -more in fear than in hope, "God, if You want me back on, well, 'Your side', deliver this killer into my hands with visible signs and do not let him or her kill me... Amen."