The Curious Case of Morgrim City

The Body

Life in Morgrim was no fun now that the residents were not allowed to eat the tourists. There had been too many incidents of visitors going missing, that a decree had been passed ensuring the safety of all future guests. Most of the residents had welcomed the notion, declaring that trade was a fundamental part of keeping the city running and that without it there would be no safe haven. A minority had grumbled about it, but considering there were fewer of them, their voice was soon drowned out.

Although the proclamation had been aimed at the shapeshifting part of the community, several of the vampires had been disgruntled. There has also been some mutterings from several of the zombies who lived within the city, though they claimed that they were only after one particular part of the visitors.

The motion had passed several years ago. The tourists were safe. Every new resident of the city was given a pamphlet upon moving in and there was no allowance for ignorance. The same applied to visitors. All visitors were also reminded that they were not to volunteer themselves for being feasted upon either, and this was strictly enforced. The city law enforcement insisted that the rule had to work both ways if it was to work at all.

For several years, despite some quiet mutterings, there had been no incidents of eaten individuals. Aside from that one case of a zombie getting carried away with a dying volunteer. Though the zombie in question had refrained from any real damage, resorting instead to mere ear biting. No one had been convicted at the time, and the law enforcement had issued a curt warning and returned to more pressing matters.

So when the body of an outsider turned up covered in wounds of various shapes and sizes, a lot of questions were asked.

"There's not enough blood."

Laguna was the lead detective of the city, and up until now, serious crime levels had been relatively low.

"Trust a werewolf to pick up on such a detail." Laguna could hear the vampire's eyes roll when he spoke. Terry was one of the juniors who had worked beneath her for a couple of years. He was old school. Adjusting to a modern life within the city did not always come easy, and he still insisted on wearing the old fashions and keeping things black and red. He probably still slept in a wooden coffin.

"There isn't. We both know humans and elves have around eight pints in them. There's hardly any on the floor." She stepped over the body and indicated the walls and ceiling. "It gets everywhere when they're killed, there's no splatter."

"What are you implying?" Terry asked. He looked at the ground around the corpse.

"He was killed elsewhere."

"There are no drag marks, so he must have been dumped here."

Here was a forgotten old shack near the docks. The body might have gone unnoticed for weeks, but the fresh dead smell had attracted some of the younger zombies who had called it in. Laguna was impressed that they'd not just munched on the head and left it at that. She reminded herself that not all undead were mindless, even if they were zombies.

"I agree," she said, "But why?"

"Those bite marks are strange," Terry said. He bent over the body, careful not to touch it. That it had been female was still obvious, but the nude corpse was covered in puncture wounds. The poor woman was in a terrible state; her body blue tinged, eyes frozen in horror. "Look, they don't all match up."

"So what caused it?" Shuten was a cherry faced Oni who has swapped his iron club for a quill. Laguna's head snapped up.

"Who let you in here?"

Shuten shrugged and gestured to the cordon that had been set up around the building. "Don't be like that, I got a right to be here, the people of the city-"

"If you say anything about freedom the press, I am going to eat you," Terry said. For once, Laguna agreed with him. "Get out of here, this is an active scene."

"But I got-"

"Before I have you arrested," Laguna added for emphasis. The oni's face turned a brighter shade of red but it appeared that this time, he was going to listen. "James! Escort Shuten off the premises and make sure he doesn't wiggle his way back in."

A young officer nodded and gestured for the towering oni to follow him. Laguna ran a hand over her face and shook her head, "While I appreciate the sentiment, you can't just eat the journalists Terry," she said.

The vampire wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "Are you suggesting I should try the lawyers instead?." Laguna snarled a response and looked back at the body.

"Let's focus."

Terry's humourless laugh said more than words could about the humour of werewolves. The rest of the scene did not give up many clues. The body had been dumped after murder somewhere else in a draughty old shed.

"There is a scrap of fabric here." Laguna looked up from the body to where Terry was stood by the door. He had picked up a scrap of dark green fabric. "Might be something, might be nothing."

"Bag it. Do we know who owns this shed?" she asked.

"We can find out." Both of them knew this was unlikely to turn up anything, but there was little else to go on. Noise outside drew their attention. A growing crowd were anxious to see what was happening. "James." The young officer poked his head back around the door, "Get this body down to the stationhouse, and this place thoroughly searched."

"Right away," he said.

"Not much to go on here," Laguna said, wiping her hands on her dark trousers.

"Not a lot at all," Terry agreed. "It's almost like the person who did this doesn't want to be caught." She opened the wooden door and looked outside at the gathering crowd. This was not going to go down well, especially if they learned they had very little information to go on. The chief was going to be on their butts over this one and they both knew it.

Laguna and Terry exchanged a glance. Both sighed. "We need the necromancer," they said in unison.