Black Monster

Dr Atkins looked up from his rather cluttered desk, it was hot and stuffy but brightly light, a fire officer would have probably had apoplexy if they had come for a looky, there were crates of journals stacked infront of the fire exist. Emma wondered breiefly if the man had heard of e-readers but then noted the kindle on top of the paper landslides and mental kicked herself with the realisation that she had paper copies in her bag!

He was crinkly old but with brilliant eyes that seemed to look right through her, he sat back in a relaxed open gester, it smacked of lecturer training, put the student at their ease… rather than something that came natural to the man, however it was a polished move.

‘And can I do for you Miss?’ He asked smiling at the question, she realised he was half expecting a reprimand and a demand for a Ms.

‘Dectective Inspector Emma Dursley.’

He raised his eyebrow but she was already producing her warrent card in a fluid motion. Of course she was also a Dr of Paleoanthropology but he did not need to know that, most of collegues had not known it and she wasn’t happy that the Super had announced her credentials to the room at large.

‘A dectective? I am assuming it is not some piece of stolen art or a busted up site? Murder in the trenches perhapse.’ He started to laugh and then stopped at the hard line of her mouth.

‘Murder maybe, maybe not but I need to find things out and what I need you are the nearest expert in.’ She said wondering briefly how much to tell the old pickle.

‘Why go for the nearest? There are emails, hell there are mailing lists and things for this sort of thing I thought? Experts join up to help, I haven’t myself as I am always appear to be running to stand still in my scedule as it is.’

She sighed, ‘I find face to face works much better.’

He nodded then stood up, he was taller than she was expecting, on a par with herself. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

The advice was not to but then dectives worked slightly differently in her office, sometimes more was gleaned from coffee than days of padding the streets and sending emails. She nodded and followed him out of the room and back along the labrynth to the little room of coffee and stale biscuits. She found the rocks and arrow heads and skulls pulling at her concentration but Atkins poured her coffee and they sat down on plastic chairs that looked like they belonged in a school. ‘We have about an hour before the Undergruates arrive here for morning tea. Of course most of them will dissappear of to the refrectory to grab expensive chain coffee but this room will still become more crowded than is comftable.’

She nodded and sipped the coffee and realised that it was only going to be the students up against it that drank this bitter beverage, over stewed and cheap as.

‘I am investigating cereal killings maybe as a result of a cult of some kinds.’ she begain.

‘Ah, then you should get in contact with these people.’ he fished in his pocket and produced a business card it was the smart type with a little sim in it full of email and phone info. She looked at it briefly then handed it back.

‘They told me to come to you, they have no one on file that matches what is going on.’

‘Ah’ he said, it was a sad old sound and he suddenly looked like a little old man cuddling a cup of java as if it was a well loved cuddly toy from his youth.

‘We are finding… young women, drained of blood..’

‘Simply a vampire cult,’ he interupted, she shook her head.

‘No, the throat is slite and they have been hung as if to drain all the fluid for something – yes that could be a vampire cult but that is not the normal motif plus there are other things. An injury to the back of the neck.’ She puased and started to fish for her PDA.

‘Are the women drugged?’ he asked quietly. She looked up from her rummagings ‘yes but not with a modern synthetic its strange, a plant extract that’s not been seen before.’

The old man leaned forward. ‘not opium?’ She shook her head. ‘Similar though?’ she nodded affermation and then finially produced the slime case. Flipping it open she didn’t even look as her fingers danced over the touch screen to allow her entry.

‘These are the wound types,’ a slide show of bruised skin at the nap of the neck, a puncture would surrounded by the gentle discolouration of a hemotoma.

The old man paled but did not look away, ‘Spike and sucktion cup?’ he asked. She nodded.

‘Was anything left in the wound? Splitters, cotten fibre anything like that?’

‘Nothing’ she replied. ‘But thier brain chemistry was right out of wack, far more than expected for the drugged even if we don’t know exactly what it is.’

‘What about around the brusing?’ he asked. She hesitated, she still wasn’t quiet sure what to think about this part.

‘An organic… goo it has traces of DNA in it but… but they are wronge, not human, not animal, not even plant, just DNA.’

‘Just DNA?’ he repeated raising an eyebrow. She nodded.

‘Anything else?’ he asked.

‘No’ she lied.

‘I am not quiet sure what you expect of me, I am not an expert in modern cults, and DNA that is not anything is a mystery to me. But I think your narcotic could be a blue lotus.’ She stared at him in dispair.

‘No they checked that one,’ she said.

‘No they checked one maybe two but there are several plants it could be.’ She nodded, placing her PDA back in the cacoon of her bag.

‘If you could send me a list of plant names that would be helpful,’ she said through gritted teeth. The mans line of questioning had been too smooth, it had been as if he’d been pumping her for information. And interesting result in itself but not one she would have hoped for. He nodded conscent and she strode from the room. She felt dirty which is why she did not hesitate outside the door as she would have normally. She missed him sitting back relaxed with his arms behind his head muttering, ‘Well, well well the plot does thicken.’ He sipped the bitter coffee he liked with every sign of enjoyment.

Posted: Saturday, November 3rd, 2012 @ 5:10 pm
Categories: Uncategorized.
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