J. Robb - Chaos in Death

He found life in death. And delight in the whirlwind of fear and fright. To hunt, to steal the light, the life, the blood, the soul. Well, hed been born for it.

It made him laugh to dance around the madness of his creating, cape swirlingand wasnt that a wonderful touchlegs kicking in a joyful jig.

Even the sound of his own laughter, deep and rich and free, thrilled him, made him laugh all the harder.

He was alive.

And youre not!

He hopped, skipped, leaped over the three bodies hed arranged on the floor. Tilting his head, he grinned at his handiwork. Hed laid them out so they satwell, slumped, but that was dead for youin a line against the wall.

Pitiful specimens, really, this trio of junkies whod barely had the wit or the will to put up a fight. But God knew a man had to start somewhere. Still, their fear was his now, and their tears, their cries and pleasall his.

It tasted so delicious.

He needed more, of course, so many more. But hed made a most excellent start. No more playing by the rules, no sir! No more Mr. Good Guy.

Boring guy.

He patted his own chest. I feel like a whole new man.

Chuckling, he stowed the bloody scalpel, the vials, all the lovely specimens in his kit. And inspiration struck.

Clichd? he asked himself, his head tipping from side to side, his gleaming red eyes bulging with glee and madness as he scanned the room, the bodies, the walls. Maybe, maybe, but irresistible!

After dipping a gloved finger into a pool of congealing blood, he composed his message on the dingy wall. He had to dip back into the wellha-ha-haseveral times, but the time was well worth it.

To whom it may concern:

Please take out the trash. Dont forget to recycle properly!

Oh, his belly hurt from laughing. He pressed a hand to it, nearly snagging one of the long, pointed nails that stabbed through the glove. Then found himself hesitating before signing his name. He knew his name. Of course, of course he did. For a moment his glee teetered toward fury, his laughter toward guttural grunts.

Then all righted again. He did another quick jig, dipped his finger again.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Dr. Chaos.

Perfect. Absently, he sucked the blood and grime from his finger and read the message over twice.

Time to go, he decided. Things to do. And he was absolutely famished.

He picked up his kit, lifted an arm in salute.

Adieu, mes amis!

On a last cackle of laughter, he turned, swirling the capehe just loved doing thatas he skipped to the back room and climbed out the window.

He couldnt remember ever having more fun.

And couldnt wait to do it all again.

Lieutenant Eve Dallas studied the scene. Cops saw it all, but there was always something new, some fresh brutality even in the dying summer of 2060 to stretch the boundaries of all.

The room stank of bloodso much bloodand death, of fresh puke and piss. Blood soaked into one of the board-thin mattresses shoved into a corner. One of the three victims had died there, she thought. The middle one, she concluded, the black male, age as yet undetermined, with multiple stab wounds and a missing left ear.

Beside Eve, her partner breathed slowly in and out through her teeth.

If youre going to hurl, Peabody, do it outside.

Im not going to hurl. But it came out as a plea rather than a statement.

Eve shifted her gaze, studied Peabody. The short, jaunty, flippy tail shed pulled her dark hair into looked distinctly out of place now that her skin held a faint green cast. Peabodys dark eyes, slightly unfocused, held their line of sight a few inches above the bodies.

I just need a minute for everything to settle.

What was this place? Eve asked.

It used to be retail space. Peabody still held her PPC, and her hand was steady enough. Apartments above, three levels. Slated for rehab. Peabody shut her eyes for a moment.

Find out who owns it, how long its been shut down. Take it outside. We need the data, Eve said before Peabody could object. Get the data.

With a nod, Peabody slipped out the door to where the uniforms responding to the nine-one-one had cordoned off the sidewalk.

With her hands and feet already sealed, her recorder engaged, Eve stepped around and over the debris of shattered bottles, scattered clothes, trash, a broken chair to the bodies.

Her golden brown eyes werent unfocused, but cop flat. Three victims, two male, one female, carefully arranged to sit, backs against the front wall. Black male, center, multiple stab wounds, torso, shoulders, arms, legs, neck, and face. Left ear removed. Caucasian female on the left appears to have been strangled. Mixed-race male, right of center, bludgeoned. Left eye removed.

Hell of a party, she thought, and let out a breath that fluttered the bangs on her short cap of brown hair.

Three mattresses, some bedding, clothes, mini friggie, battery lamp, two chairs, two tables. It appears all three vics flopped here. Money scattered around, what shows looks to be about a grand. So robberys out. First on scene ascertained forced window, rear of building, street level. Probable point of entry.

She took the female first, hunkered down on her long legs, opened her field kit. Female also suffered blows to the face, knees. Hard blow to the knees, she murmured. Pipe, bat, boardtake her downa couple punches. Manual strangulation.

She ran the victims prints.

Female is identified as Jennifer Darnell, age twenty-four. Current address listed on West Sixteenth. Got a sheet, including juvie. Primarily illegals busts.

Peabody came back in. The Whitwood Group bought the property about seven months ago, she said. From what I can tell, the building was condemned a little over a year ago. Permits for rehab pending.

Okay. So the killer or killers took his ear, his eye. Isnt there a sayingwhat is it? Hear no evil, see no evil . . . Carefully, Eve opened Jennifer Darnells mouth. Yeah, speak no evil. He cut out her tongue.

Jesus.

Work see-no guy, Peabody. I need ID, TOD. Eve fit on microgoggles, engaged their light to peer into the victims mouth. Clean cut, neat and tidy. She was either already dead or unconscious when he took her tongue, and he had a good, steady hand.

Struggling to find her own good, steady hand, Peabody opened her kit. Taking the body parts, those particular body parts, do you think ritual?

Possibly. She looked up at the message on the wall. Mostly, I think he likes to joke. Real funny guy. He did what he wanted, took what he wanted, now hes telling us to clean up the mess. Dr. Chaos.

Eve looked around the room. Thats what this is. The middle guy? The killer took him out where he lay. Uses a knife, or a scalpel. But he doesnt use it on the others, except for the removal. He switches to bludgeoning for the other male.

Coby Vix, age twenty-six, Peabody told her. There had to be two killers, maybe three. One for each vic?

Maybe. Its a lot of work for one man. But only one takes credit?

As Eve had, Peabody studied the bloody message. Dr. Chaos. It could be the name of a group.

Eve considered it while she used the gauges. Yeah, it could. TOD on Darnell, two hundred thirty-eight.

If there was only one, why didnt she run like hell when hes stabbing the bejesus out of that guy or beating the crap out of Vix?

Took her out, blows to the knees. Shattered kneecaps. But yeah, it could be more than one. Three distinct methods of killing.