Heartbreaker (2 page)

That must be a particularly unlucky day, because when Shim crossed the common room from which all offices could be reached, he almost immediately met someone that wasn't used to be there at such an early hour at all.

Celendlinis Delmenar, head of the first homicide squad, watched him going by as if he had left the comfort of his bed only for the purpose of seeing that show. It was almost impossible not to read in his eyes an underlying note of acrimony toward Shim, something that had nothing to do with the well-known difference of opinions of their respective races, and was instead deeply personal.

When the Magic Control Department was created, only two people were in the list of candidates to be appointed head of it, and the elf had already established that the place would be his. He wasn't even able to see a reason why it should be given to Shim, especially given that he had some natural affinity to magic, while the dwarf, like any other member of his race, had none at all. When the choice had been made, and not in his favor, he had accused Shim of any kind of subtlety and mischief, from corruption to kidnapping firstborns, being soon forced to stop in order not to change a missed appointment into an actual sacking. Still, he had never changed his mind, in spite of having to show otherwise, and kept dealing with his colleague with an arrogance far greater than that he used with anyone else, although it was quite hard to notice any difference.

On the other hand, Shim reserved to the elf an affected courtesy and an extremely polite attitude, treating him not with warmth but without any trace of despise or lack of respect. Partly he did that not to give him any kind of excuse to start quarrelling, but mostly he did because he knew how much that upset him.

«Good morning», he said even before his colleague could think about greeting him. «Early start today? I hope there is no emergency.»

The elf looked down at him, not a difficult thing to do as there was at least half a meter between their heights. Actually, Celen was very good in the not so easy task of looking down at anyone, even creatures he could have looked in the eyes only with the help of a ladder.

«I've been here since yesterday», he replied with an acrid tilt in his voice, that was to say in his normal tone. «I spent all night on a case and now I have been ordered», he made sure that that single word carried all of his scorn for the simple idea that someone could order him anything, «to give everything to you.»

Shim looked at him, unsure about what to think of that. It was fairly unusual for an homicide to be assigned to his department. Not that homicides by magic were rare in themselves, it was just unusual that investigating on them was up to him. If the case was assigned to him, it had to be more than someone who had simply been killed with a spell or an enchanted weapon, it had to be a more complicated matter.

«What's it about?» he asked, genuinely interested.

«I have been told to give you the file, not to report to you», the elf grunted in reply, handing him a folder. Shim opened it. He barely had the time to put the portrait of the victim into focus when Celen, in spite of what he had just said, started talking again.

«It seems that someone took fun in ripping out the heart of a man without even bothering to slice his chest open first. Very fancy, but I don't think it is something that should concern your department.» He pronounced the word
your
with an ironic tilt, as if to stress out how deeply unjust it was that such a definition could be used in that case.

If Shim noticed, he pretended not to, and just checked the papers in his hands, as if to look for a confirmation to what his colleague had said.

«Necromancy», was all he said after perusing the brief file. The folder included a complete transcription of the autopsy report, but for the moment he ignored it, he would watch the recording later.

«Whatever», replied the elf, making him scowl this time.

«If there is a necromancer working without a license in town, this is a concern of mine. And to be honest... I don't think anyone has issued a license to rip hearts out.»

Celen was about to say something, but he didn't gave him any more time. «Have the corpse sent to my department's morgue, I have to arrange a complete autopsy.»

«Crew already did that, if you had read...»

«Crew did his job, now I have to do mine. If the necromancer left a signature on the body, it is not Crew the one who can see it.» He didn't left the elf a chance to reply and quickly went to his office, where he wanted to check a list of known necromancers while waiting for his men to arrive. He could have stopped the night-shift officers, but since there was no real emergency yet, he preferred not to. A few minutes weren't going to make any difference, especially if he didn't spend them doing nothing.

The elf too got back to his office shortly after. He sat at his desk and put one hand on the communication crystal.

"Doctor Crew, this is detective Delmenar."

The voice of the doctor replied in his mind a second later, "Yes, tell me detective."

"I need deeper examinations to be performed on this morning victim, that Rupert. You have to do all possible tests on the magic used on him."

"I thought I had to send the body to Owlfeather", Crew remarked.

"No, not now. It's an homicide, so it belongs to the homicide squad. Sent me the report at the soonest."

"As you wish", the doctor replied, ending the conversation. He didn't think it was too logical to perform examinations that usually belonged to his colleague, regardless of the reason why they had to be performed and of whom had to investigate on the case, but he wasn't used to contest his orders, so he started working.

In his office, Celen took a relaxed posture, which in his case was all but indistinguishable from a tense one, and told himself that this time he would show without any doubt who was the one who had the more right to be head of the Magic Control Department.

The entrance of Elmond Clinic was white and sterile as a place like that was expected to be. The reception counter looked like an island in the middle of the endless see of the anteroom, scattered of small couches so distant from one another as to convey the idea of being separate worlds, each enclosed in its own intimacy sphere, allowing its inhabitants not to worry of the stares and questions of people outside it.

Strangely, there wasn't anyone waiting.

Shim walked at a fast pace towards the counter, followed by two officers in blue uniform. One was tall and blond, his features clearly human. The height of the other one seemed to be the mathematical average between that of the first and Shim's, and his constitution revealed that there was at least one dwarf between his ancestors. Both had on their uniform the police badge and the mark of the department.

Shim showed its own badge to the receptionist who was staring at him with a questioning look, leaning over the counter in order to see him and, at the same time, trying with poor results not to make obvious that he was doing just that.

«I need to speak with doctor Elmond», the dwarf said.

«If you are so kind as to wait, she will be able to see you in a few moments.»

«It's fine Greg, let the detective in», the voice of a tall and slim woman said. She was peeking out the door of a room from which a girl had just came out. The face of the latter bore a weird mixture of ear-to-ear grin and swelling, tear-filled eyes.

The woman gestured the trio to go in.

Grace Elmond, formerly Gretchen Ealdfeond – a change of name made in compliance to all laws and for reasons the detective didn't find too hard to understand – was one of the most affirmed surgeons in the area, maybe in the whole continent, as well as one of the most powerful necromancers Shim knew of. She had an incredibly high level of authorization to use that art, and all of the contacts needed to make good use of it.

Gaining power in necromancy was always based on sacrifice, a ritual that had to be performed constantly in order to keep one's power intact. The more the power was, the more the required victim of the sacrifice was likely to be something which killing was dangerously illegal. Or, better, it was likely to be someone. Even the few authorized necromancers were obviously not allowed to sacrifice anything more humanoid than a goat, unless they knew the right people. That being the case, there was the chance to be called to perform death sentences of criminals who were just too dangerous to be simply thrown into a cell which key could be lost forever. No one cared if, before the execution, someone consecrated the room to Death, or if some ritual word was spoken during the event itself. In the end for anyone, sentenced included, the result was the same. For anyone but the necromancer.

«Detective Stonehand, how come you are honoring me of your visit?» the doctor asked once she had let Shim in and made him sit. The two officers were left standing close behind him.

Shim looked at her for a second before answering, trying to assess the tone she had used. She had untied her long blond hair, just as she did every time. Shim had never been able to understand whether it was an attempt to seduce him or plain simple ostentation, although he was inclined to believe in the latter.

«I am here to ask for your advice, doctor», he explained. She didn't say anything, just propped her elbows on the desk and her chin on her joined hands, slightly leaning forward as if to ear better. «Is it possible to take the heart of a man with necromancy?» asked the detective. «Leaving the body intact?»

The woman straightened her back, moved back her torso and left her hands fall.

«Don't insult my intelligence, detective. You know more than enough about this matters, you don't need my answer», she said in an arrogant tone. «If what you are trying to ask is whether I used necromancy to remove a heart, the answer is yes, I did. Three times last month. Three perfectly successful and duly recorded transplants, I am willing to deliver you a copy of the clinical file and save you the time for an official request.»

«That is not necessary», Shim replied with no alteration, as if the conversation had never left the tones of formal courtesy. «What I need to know is why someone would want to do something like that.»

She gazed at him with a crocodile smile. When she spoke again, she was oozing with courtesy, not a bit more genuine than her grin. «To make room for a new heart. Or to transfer the heart to its new owner. In which case we would be speaking about an organ donor. A dead one.»

«What if the heart was in the chest of a living man?»

«That would be homicide.»

«Thank you for the information», he said with just a slight ironic tilt. «There are many ways to kill someone, and this didn't seem the more straightforward to me.»

«It is undoubtedly straightforward, if you do that to someone who doesn't have a spare heart and cannot make it grow back. But yes, I think there are more straightforward ways. Not with as much scenic effect though. Given there is someone to appreciate it; I don't think the victim would have any time to.»

«Scenic... effect?» The idea that someone could be killed that way just for show made a wave of disgust raise in him.

«You have no idea how many try to secretly record my surgeries to resell them to some weird fetishist, or maybe just spread them around, who knows?»

«Can't you think of any other reason?»

«Don't know. Organ racket maybe.»

«Could be.» Actually it was quite unlikely. Why just the heart, if that were the case? «I suppose», Shim started again «that some expertise is needed for this kind of feat.»

Grace looked at him with a loathing note in his eyes. «It doesn't require much power, but I admit it takes some knowledge, especially unless the victim is willing or incapacitated.»

«Would you be able to make a list of people who could do that?»

«Another question you need no answer to», she answered bitterly. «I am the only one here with enough knowledge to perform something like that. And it was not me who did, for sure I don't have any spare time to rip someone's heart out if not in my operating room, neither I have any reason to do such dirty work in my position.»

Shim believed at least one of the two things she said. The doctor was a ruthless social climber, suffering of omnipotence delirium, and for sure she would not hesitate to kill someone if she had a good reason to, but she would never do that in a way that would allow to connect the homicide to her so easily. She wasn't going to throw her career out the window just like that.

As per her statement that she was the only one who could succeed in doing that, well, that was sheer presumption. Maybe she was the only one among publicly known and officially authorized necromancers to have such power and expertise, but that didn't make her the only one in general.

Several hours and several useless visits later, Shim and his escort were walking through the alleys of one of the poorest areas of the city, a concept that had anyway to be seen from the right perspective and the correct point of view. In reality, the worst neighborhood of Tejarak was probably on the same level as the upper side of some neighboring towns.

They came in view of a shop owned by the last name in the list of official necromancers that the detective had found in his archives. After that, he would have to start looking for the names of his personal black list, people who were suspected of performing necromancy illegally, but against whom there were no proofs.

The shop had been made so macabre that it went all the way to ridicule. It was a small place, whose windows had been painted a dull dark grey, so that their contents could barely be seen. Above the door there was the name, "Death do us parts", in a blood-red paint – actually too red to really seem blood – artfully smeared to make it look as if had been written by someone about to die, or something like that. Right below it there were samples of anatomical parts, mainly legs of chickens and some other unidentified beasts, while on a side of the door two fairly underfed live chicken were clucking, each into its barely large enough cage. A poorly placed sign over the door, announcing "Supplies and accessories for voodoo, necromancy, spiritism", was maybe the only thing which prevented the shop from being mistaken for a crossbreed between an exotic souvenirs store and a cattle seller.