Alone

Alone - Chapter One, Dining with Death

Mondays were never the best for Detective Carlson, especially not Mondays at 4a.m. But on reflection, Carlson realised his day could be a whole lot worse. For one thing, he had woken up this morning. The people in front of him had not. Take, for example, the first victim in this macabre tea party. Sitting slumped at the table, his head rested in a bowl, in the same style of one having fallen asleep during breakfast. He wasn’t sleeping and Carlson didn’t think he would be either, having seen the scenario before him in full.

Congealing in the bowl was the victim’s blood, no longer dripping from the empty eye sockets. The eyes were no great distance away and having already noted the bulges in the cheeks of the victim, Carlson was extremely relieved he had decided to skip breakfast. Revolted as he was by the obvious explanation of the cause, Carlson continued to take in the scene.

The poor lad was what Carlson would describe as stocky, while others would brand as obese. Carlson guessed he was about 17 and from the bus pass in his pocket had been identified as Mark Broad. Nicknames had come and gone, so had the burgers and chocolate and now, so had Mark.

Completing the grotesque scene was a bloodied spoon, loosely grasped in Mark’s lifeless hand. Later investigation revealed it to be the implement used to remove Mark’s eyes from his head. Only one had been removed post-mortem.

Turning away from the bodies seated at the table, Carlson then faced the entrance to the warehouse. It was bare and derelict, deserted until new owners came along, not that that was likely now. The taint would remain, the smell of blood would linger. With photographers from forensics highlighting every shadow, Carlson could almost feel the presence of a murderer. People don’t tend to like that kind of history.

“Kids used to have parties here.” Detective Mills commented.

The exception of course was the kids. They would still come here, maybe even more after the element of terror and a gruesome history had been added.

“Not yet they won’t, we need to finish examining the place.” Replied Carlson.

Returning to the centre of the warehouse, Carlson began to take in the details of the second victim. Carlson didn’t need a bus pass to identify this one. Tom Smith, the town’s local handyman, had involuntarily joined the party. Compared to Tom Smith, Mark Broad was the peak of fitness. Tom was short and even Carlson could not deny, severely obese. The quality of his work had depended upon not just the time it took him and the cost, but also the quality of your own biscuit tin.

Focusing on the injuries, Carlson knew he still wouldn’t be prepared this time. Tom’s hands were gone but again, not far. Sawn off at the wrist, there were merely two stumps on Tom’s arms. But no, not just stumps. Thrust into the flesh of one arm was a fork, protruding from the arm as if to replace the hand. Knowing what he would see, Carlson glanced at the other arm. A knife, with the point stuck outwards, towards the plate in front of him.

On the plate lay the mangled remains of what had once presumably been the victim’s hands. They had been minced, albeit very unsuccessfully. Carlson could already tell what the first comment from Paul James - coroner-in-the-field as he liked to call himself – would be. In fact, he wouldn’t eat for the rest of the day if Paul didn’t mention the fact that the handyman wasn’t so handy anymore.

Mills returned to the table, noting the revolted expression on Carlson’s face that he supposed he was probably wearing as well.

“This is some twisted, sick stuff…” Muttered Carlson.

“Have you seen the third body then?” Queried Mills.

“Not yet”.

“You’ll realise just how appropriate the word ‘sick’ is then.”

Mills was right; the condition of the third victim was absolutely repulsive. Most of the putrid stench in the room was emanating from this victim. Damp rags surrounded her, each seemingly contributing a different aroma to the venue. Carlson, having young children of his own, was no stranger to the prevalent smell on the body of the woman in front of him now. Vomit may contain different foods depending on the previous dietary habits of the provider, but it always has the same vile smell. The woman’s face was unrecognisable, due to the fact that the stuff was covering it.

What Carlson could see was the electrical tape covering her mouth, preventing the further escape of the content of her stomach. Carlson now realised the purpose of the rags was to provoke her stomach into this kind of response, resulting in first the covering of her face and then, after the electrical tape was on, the victim choking to death on her own vomit.

Carlson had seen enough of the bodies. Once again he had his two questions: who did it and how long are they going away for?