The Sensation

by Amanda Bridgeman

  It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the hub. Hernandez, Bronte and Mitch were there, but no Caine.

  “Hey,” Beggs greeted Hernandez and Bronte. “What’d you get behind the dumpster?”

  “Looks like some guy got beaten to death over a parking spot.”

  “No shit?” Beggs asked.

  “No shit,” Bronte said. “Apparently the vic stole some guy’s spot earlier in the evening, they had a screaming match and the vic hit our suspect. The suspect walked off licking his wounds, then came back, waited for the guy, and beat him to a pulp.”

  “So how does the guy go from running away and licking his wounds to cold-blooded killer?” Salvi asked.

  Bronte shrugged. “I guess he stewed himself into a rage.”

  “There seems to be a lot of that happening lately,” Beggs said.

  “As soon as we ID the guy we’ll bring him in,” Hernandez said. “Then he can stew in a prison cell.”

  Caine entered then and Mitch straightened. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling.”

  “I couldn’t take the call at the time,” Caine said.

  “So where you been?”

  “Working,” Caine told him.

  “On what?” Mitch said. “We’re supposed to working together here.”

  “I’ll have Riverton put my notes in the file soon.”

  Before Mitch could respond, Ford came out of her office and cut him off. “Brentt and Beggs, we gotta reopen the Kelto’s Diner case.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Beggs said.

  “Tell me about it,” Ford said. “Narcotics want a toxicology report on Williams. Get it done.”

  “What the hell is going on with Narcotics?” Beggs asked. “They’re ordering us around, sticking their noses in our cases, locking our toxicology reports and telling us nothing.”

  “They locked your toxicology report?” Ford asked, brow creasing with annoyance.

  “Yeah,” Beggs said. “The one on Myki Natashi, our dead photographer’s girlfriend. We can’t see the results.”

  “Is that right?” Ford said coldly, her mind turning over. “Reopen the Kelto’s Diner case, get the toxicology report done. I’ll speak to Sorensen about the Barker case. The hell they’re going to keep us out of our own cases.” Ford stepped back inside her office and closed the door behind her.

  “Hey!” Mitch called, watching Caine leave the bullpen again.

  Beggs chuckled and looked at Mitch. “Trouble with your new partner, bud? Wanna swap back?”

  Mitch looked at Beggs, then glanced at Salvi, then looked back to his console again.

  “Come on,” Salvi said to Beggs, “let’s get this case reopened.”

  With the Kelto’s Diner case open again and the toxicology request issued, Salvi turned her mind back to the Barker case and began reviewing Chuck Swaggert’s crime scene photos and 4D modelling. She knew how important it was to continually look over the images, as things could be missed the first, second, even third or fourth times. As more evidence came to light, a detective could see the crime scene anew.

  Right now, nothing new was coming to her, though. Myki had been in bed, passed out, and had apparently slept through the whole thing. Barker was on his balcony, dead, and there was smashed glass around him. So had he gone out there to put the glass door between him and the killer? Or had he gone out there to talk to the killer, so as not to wake Myki?

  Barker had been laying face down and the back of his skull had been smashed in. Salvi double-checked Weston’s report and although there were injuries to the front of his skull, they were most likely obtained when he fell. Which means he was attacked from behind. Neighbors reported no yelling, just the smashing glass and banging. So the question was, did someone hack the apartment AI, gain access and sneak up on Barker from behind while he stood on the balcony? Or was he talking to someone? Someone he knew and trusted enough to turn his back on.

  Barker was definitely murdered on that balcony. That meant someone, somewhere, had to have witnessed something. Salvi thought again of the blinds stirring in the opposite apartment.

  “Riverton?” Salvi asked. “Request details on the owner of the apartment directly across the street from Rusty Conner’s. I need full details and their interview report.”

  “Yes, detective.”

  The interview report displayed on her screen. The owner of the apartment was Carole Van der Kint. She was 68 years old, retired, and lived alone with three virtual pets.

  “Ms Van der Kint claims to not have seen anything, Detective Brentt. She said she was only awakened by the sirens and police drones hovering close by.”

  “It was 12.30am and it was in the Sensation,” Beggs said. “Someone must’ve seen something.”

  “If they have, no one is coming forward, detective,” Riverton said. “And with the immediate street security footage erased, and drones not in the area at the time of the murder, we cannot place any witnesses at the scene.”

  Salvi sighed. “What about the fibers Weston found?”

  “One of those fibers has been identified as belonging to that of a sateen-infused cotton, usually found in bedsheets, detective. Expensive bedsheets. However, they have also recently been used in a menswear fashion line by designer Lana Courtier.”

  “Fashion our killer may have been wearing?” Salvi asked.

  “Yes, detective. Lana Courtier’s collection includes a black sateen-infused cotton sweatsuit.”

  “So our killer has expensive taste in clothes,” Beggs said.

  “And possibly bedsheets,” Salvi added. “Do the sheets come in black?”

  “Yes, detective. I have requested a check on Barker’s wardrobe to confirm if he has any of the menswear line. He was not wearing this at the time of his death, so the fibers came from elsewhere.”

  Salvi sat back in her chair and looked at Beggs. “I think we should give Myki another day then chat to her again and see if any new memories have surfaced. She’s the only witness we can place at the scene.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Beggs nodded, then checked the time on his iPort. “Look, I got tickets to the game tonight. I’m calling it a night.”

  “Fine,” Salvi said. “I’m going to keep searching for a bit.”

  “Like a good junior should,” he smirked, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

  Salvi shook her head, then turned back to her console. “Riverton, show me the drone footage of the balconies in the Barker case again.”

  “Yes, detective.”

  Salvi buzzed on Mitch’s door.

  He opened it, then checked his iPort. “11pm. Better.”

  She smiled. “Well, I would’ve popped by sooner, but I had murders to solve.”

  “And did you solve them?” he said, motioning her inside.

  “Nope,” she sighed, entering. “What about you? How’s the Langford case going? You figured that one out yet?”

  “Nope. Langford was working late at his auto accessory business, stepped out into the alleyway to smoke a fauxgarette, and someone almost beheaded the guy. Nothing was stolen, he still had his wallet on him and everything.”

  “Sounds premeditated. Security footage?”

  “Hacked and wiped. No witnesses, and according to everyone we speak to he was a nice guy and no one can possibly imagine why this happened.”

  Salvi took off her gun belt, slumped down on his bed, then laid back. He sat down beside her.

  “Was that in the ‘Sation?” she asked. “His store?”

  He shook his head. “No. Hayes Hill. Right next door though.”

  “Payes Hill,” she smiled. “That’s what we call it here, ‘cause you gotta pay a whole lot to live there.”

  Mitch smiled. “Payes Hill. Well the guy had expensive taste, that’s for sure, and the auto accessories he sold?” Mitch whistled. “You’d need a bank loan to shop there.”

  “Our photographer was in the Sensation,” Salvi thought aloud, staring at the ceiling. “The K
elto’s Diner murders were right in the Sensation too.” Her mind wandered. “Both appear to be premediated murder. The apartment AI had been wiped, but not the diner’s security footage.” She looked back at Mitch, mind still processing. “Hernandez and Bronte are working a murder in the ‘Mission, their footage was wiped too and nothing stolen. They think it was a targeted hit. It sounds similar to the Langford case.”

  Mitch nodded. “But Riverton hasn’t unearthed any links between the cases, right?”

  “No,” she said, stifling a yawn.

  Mitch lay down beside her. He checked his iPort and sighed.

  She stifled another yawn and blinked her eyes heavily. “Something wrong?”

  He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “Caine was supposed to upload information to our case file and hasn’t done it yet. He’s been largely AWOL these past few days.” Mitch looked at her. “I’m getting the feeling he prefers to work solo than with me as a partner.”

  “He’ll adjust,” she said sleepily.

  Mitch studied her and the silence sat.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked.

  She realized her eyes had been closed and opened them again. “I’m sorry… I had other intentions but…”

  He smiled, amused. “Get some sleep, Brentt.”

  She reached out and brushed her fingers down his mouth.

  “I’m sure with a little encouragement you could wake me up again.”

  Mitch’s smile grew broader. He leaned over and they kissed.

  Salvi awoke to the sound of Mitch’s iPort signaling an incoming call. He groaned and unsheathed the apartment’s soft green Bio-Lume light. She saw it was just after 4am. Mitch fumbled with his iPort and studied it.

  “Shit,” he said, voice thick with sleep. “It’s Ford.” He rubbed his eyes, then sat up, put his lenses and earpiece in, and answered the call. “Yeah?” he said, as Salvi rolled over onto her side.

  “What…?” Mitch’s voice fell into a serious tone. “W-what the fuck? When?”

  Salvi suddenly felt more awake, propping herself up on her elbow.

  Mitch was a ball of concentration, listening. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  The call ended and the silver sheen disappeared from his eyes. Mitch turned on his electric bedside lamp, making Salvi wince.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, sitting up.

  Mitch looked at her, his face pale, his eyes troubled.

  “Mitch? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Caine,” he said, his voice weak with shock.

  “What’s happened?” She straightened.

  Mitch looked speechless for a moment, shaking his head in confusion.

  “He’s dead.”

  4: TRIDENT

  Within minutes they were dressed and riding along in Mitch’s sleek black Raider, siren wailing. Salvi eyed the screen set into its console, showing the target location that Ford had sent him. It was down by the docks.

  “What the hell happened?” Salvi thought aloud.

  “I don’t know,” Mitch shook his head, face tight with worry. “Fuck!” he hit the steering wheel with his hand. “Why didn’t he call me if he was in trouble?”

  “What would he be doing down by the docks?” Salvi asked.

  Mitch shook his head again. “I don’t know.” He pressed the accelerator and the Raider kicked up speed.

  Salvi watched the city fly past the Raider’s windows, before she looked back at Mitch. “You think this has something to do with your Langford case?”

  Mitch shook his head yet again. “No… Something’s been going on with Caine,” he glanced at her. “He’d been showing up late, tired. Wouldn’t tell me what’s going on. I didn’t push, but maybe I should have, instead of covering for him.” He winced and hit the steering wheel again. “Fuck!”

  An alert sounded on the console, warning them they were closing in on the target. Salvi looked up through the windscreen and saw a police drone circling overhead. Mitch turned the Raider down a street to the right, and the alert on their console picked up frequency and pitch, letting them know they’d reached their location. Mitch pulled up behind a series of parked patrol cars, flashing their red and blue lights, and Salvi saw the digital wall of light ahead stating: ‘Police line – Do not cross.’

  She swallowed and glanced at Mitch, who was already halfway out the door. She swiftly followed and they moved to the entrance of the rundown warehouse, tapping their holo-badges as they did. A uniformed officer on the door quickly scanned their IDs then gave a nod, waving them through. Mitch entered first but he paused a few steps inside the doorway. Salvi stepped around him and when she saw what had stopped him, she too paused.

  There was Caine. Lifeless.

  He was strung up, naked, on a large wooden circle, reminiscent of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. His body was covered in dark bruises, many deep gashes and a lot of blood.

  He was a horrific, tortured mess.

  “Jesus…” Salvi said, struggling for breath. She looked back to Mitch but he’d started moving toward Caine’s body, where Weston, Swaggert and the forensics team were hard at work.

  “What the hell happened?” Mitch said loudly. Salvi realized he was talking to Ford, who stood in the corner deep in discussion with Hernandez and Bronte.

  Ford turned at the sound of his voice, then her eyes moved from Mitch to Salvi.

  “What happened?” Mitch asked Ford again.

  “When did you last see him?” she asked, darting her eyes to Salvi again, as she moved to intercept Mitch.

  Mitch stuttered as he cleared his mind to think. “Y-yesterday. Early afternoon. Maybe 3-4 o’clock.”

  “You didn’t hear from him since?” Ford asked.

  “No,” Mitch said, as Hernandez and Bronte joined them.

  Salvi looked at Hernandez. “Who found him?”

  “A hobo,” he said, pointing to an old man in dirty rags carrying a brown paper bag, standing with a uniformed officer. “Said he sleeps here. Came in tonight and found him.”

  “When?” Salvi asked.

  “He doesn’t have a watch, but he told the first responders he’d just found him, which makes it right after 3am.”

  “No one saw anything?” Mitch asked.

  “Not that we know of,” Ford said.

  “Ford,” Weston called solemnly. She stood beside Caine’s body.

  “What?” Ford said.

  “He hasn’t been dead long. I’d say time of death was maybe an hour or two ago.”

  “Fuck!” Mitch said again, turning away and running his hand through his hair. “I could’ve saved him.”

  “No you couldn’t,” Ford said.

  Mitch turned back to her.

  “Look at that blood loss, Grenville,” Ford said firmly. “He bled out. Even if we arrived while his heart was still beating, we couldn’t have saved him.”

  “Where the hell is Beggs?” Bronte said, turning to Hernandez. “You got hold of him, right?”

  “Yeah,” Hernandez nodded, then looked at the doorway and straightened.

  “Jesus Christ!” Beggs called out from the warehouse entrance. They turned to see him striding toward the wheel. “Jesus Christ!...What the fuck?”

  Ford, Mitch and Hernandez moved toward him.

  “Cut him down!” Beggs yelled at Ford.

  “We need to process the scene!” she said firmly. “You know that!”

  “Fuck!” Beggs yelled. “Cover him or something! Jesus!”

  “Yo, Beggs. Beggs!” Hernandez said, stepping in front of him. “We’re gonna do that soon, alright. You know we will.” Beggs, agitated, kept trying to move around him, but Hernandez kept blocking his path. “Beggs, look at me. Look at me!” Hernandez grabbed his arm. “We’re gonna get them. Alright? We’re gonna get the motherfucker who did this, trust me!”

  Beggs’ chest was rising and falling, breathing heavily through the shock. He turned to look at Mitch. “What the fuck happened?”

  “I don’
t know,” Mitch said.

  “What do you mean you don’t know. You’re his partner! You should know who did this.”

  “I don’t know,” Mitch said more firmly.

  “What the fuck was he doing tonight?” Beggs pointed to Caine’s body. “Why weren’t you with him.” He tried to step toward Mitch, but Hernandez blocked his path and Bronte moved over to lend assistance.

  “Why weren’t you with him?” Beggs shouted at Mitch, over the shoulders of Hernandez and Bronte. “Huh? You’re supposed to be watching his back! He’s just a kid!”

  “I’m not his father!” Mitch snapped back.

  “You’re his partner!” Beggs yelled. “Why weren’t you with him?”

  “Whatever he was doing, it had nothing to do with our cases!” Mitch shouted back.

  “Alright, cut this shit out!” Ford shouted. “Take him out of here!” She motioned for Hernandez and Bronte to move Beggs away from the crime scene. Beggs tried to resist, but the two men overpowered him and moved him outside.

  Ford turned to look at Salvi, then at Mitch. “Get out of here. I’ll see you at the hub in a few hours.” Mitch went to say something, but Ford cut him off. “You’ll be questioned in a few hours, Grenville! Go clear your head before then!” Ford’s words sounded more like a warning than an order.

  Mitch stared back at Ford.

  “Mitch,” Salvi said calmly. He glanced at her, then turned for the door.

  Salvi followed and as they stepped outside, Hernandez, Bronte and Beggs looked over at them.

  “I’ll get an autocab,” Salvi told Mitch quietly.

  “What was going on with him?” Beggs asked Mitch, storming past Bronte and Hernandez. “Huh?”

  “I told you, I don’t know!” Mitch said.

  “How can he get himself butchered like that and you not know what the fuck’s going on?”

  “Caine was doing his own thing!”

  “He was your partner!”

  “So? I told you, whatever he was doing, it had nothing to do with our cases.”

  Hernandez and Bronte caught up to Beggs again and grabbed at his arms. Beggs pulled one free and pointed at Mitch. “This wouldn’t have happened if I was still his partner.”

  “Get him out of my face!” Mitch warned Hernandez, who pulled at Beggs again.