The Demon Hunter

22: "Those damn eggs..."

Those who were familiar with Malthorn City and all its open and hidden corners, and had even the slightest interest in physical activity during their leisure time had a saying: "The rich folks go to exercise in the country club, the Average Joe goes to Average Joe's, the poor people go to 'The Collosseum', and the weird ones go to Central Gym."

And there was some truth to that. The entire area, known to the public "Malthorn Central", although it was three miles away from the actual downtown area, was rundown, almost entirely covered in graffiti - actually almost to the very last square inch of building wall - and dirty. Windows were locked and barred on the ground level and had similar precautions on the upper floors. Shop windows were either barred or completely nailed over with wooden planks. From all the shops that had been on the main street of this district, three quarters had been abandoned, and the few that were left were either tattoo studios, pawn shops or establishments with questionable business models.

But the same couldn't be said for the inhabitants here. After a long period in which only poor people and drifters would decide to live her, in the past few years a community of "alternative" people had arisen. Artists, poets, foremost young people of all color, religion and sexual orientation had come together and tried their best to make this part of the city a happy, colorful and remarkable place. Most graffitis from local gangs had been replaced by real pieces of art, painted or sprayed over by people with huge talent. Flowers were growing at every possible site. And the Central Gym, one of the few remaining relics of way better times, catered to this exact kind of clientel.

The multi-storey car park behind that gym however was a big, dark and nasty place. When David and Stella arrived there, with Simon waiting in the car - he wasn't allowed on the crime scene - he instantly noticed the strong smell of urine and other unpleasant things. It made him cringe. The lights in here were even darker and faultier than in the basement Stella had her office in, and the elevator had apparently been stuck on the ground floor for ages without anyone bothering to repair it. Or clean it up from all the filth that bums and lowlifes had left in it. The car park was still in use, despite its shabby and disgusting condition - and that was the reason they had to come here in the first place.

The victim was on level 2, next to a car that assumingly was his. The old and rusty, but still affectionally cared for VW beetle matched the appearance of the dead body on the floor like a sexy young cowboy doing a jeans commercial on TV. The long brown hair in dreadlocks, the trousers greybrown and patched up many times, the handcrafted pullover showing all colors of the rainbow... The left arm of the victim was pointing away from the body, the hand had dropped a small item that had landed in a pool of blood. David almost expected it to be a joint, but his prejudices got the best of him once more. Stella had put on some gloves and carefully picked it up. It was a pencil.

"Hey Bloom!" she greeted the coroner on the scene. "How's it going?"

The coroner, an elder woman with long grey hair in a ponytail, wearing a protective bodysuit over what looked like a white lab coat, looked up from her work. "Ortega," she replied to the greeting in rather unhappy fashion. Which probably hadn't to do with Stella as a person, but with the situation here. "Glad that you came. Here's another one for your collection." She pointed at the dead body. "He's a local. Warren Gatwick, sociology student and part-time poet, as it seems. We found a small notebook in which he had been writing."

So that's what the pencil was for, David thought to himself. He stepped forward as Stella introduced him: "This is Seargeant Miller, the detective on this case."

"I think we've met," David said with a nod to the other coroner. "Doctor Bloomington, right? From that narcotics case two years ago."

Doctor Bloomington remembered. "Ah yes, you are Wilks' boy. What's this old fool up to now? He's not your partner anymore?"