The Mutilated Merchant (The Edrin Loft Mysteries Book 1)

by Jon Evans

  "I'm not sure how many murderers you've gone after, Sir, but it's what we do a lot of the time in the Thieftakers. What usually happens is, some idiot gets drunk and stabs his wife to death. All the neighbours have known for years that he's beating her, and he can't stay out of the pubs, but they do nothing. When it finally comes to a head, he sobers up and scampers off before anyone knows she's dead. Sure, the neighbours heard the screams but when don't they hear the screams? She always says it's her fault, she loves him, she did something wrong. Then they find the body," she said despondently.

  "That's when they send for the Thieftakers, is it?" Edrin asked sympathetically.

  "Naturally. Proper coppering is too much for the poncy bastards from the other Watchhouses. They prefer to chase pickpockets in the market or stand around protecting big, important buildings that no-one can steal and don't have anything valuable inside anyway," she said bitterly.

  "Sadly I think that's all too true, Sergeant. So are you saying this isn't the wife, then?" he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  She smiled wryly at that. "Probably not, Sir. They don't usually go over the top like that, more like something in the dinner and he just pops off quiet like. You usually find them sitting around the house waiting to be taken away. That's the problem, we normally know exactly who did what. It's obvious. All we have to do is find whatever hole they've crawled into and drag them out, we're good at finding people, the Thieftakers know all the worst places in Kalider, and everyone knows not to hide someone from us."

  Edrin took a deep breath. "If we're not looking for his wife then, we'll have to try and work out who did want to hurt him this much. What do you think about the eyeballs in the chamber pot, I mean, other than the fact it's an utterly disgusting thing to do to someone?" he asked.

  Gurnt shuddered, "He put the chamber pot away, he didn't just pick it up and put them in. It's like he deliberately treated them like shit. Perhaps the eyes are a warning of some kind or a threat to others? Maybe it's one of the gangs that are trying to send a message about whatever this poor bugger saw?"

  "It's a thought. Keep going like that, Sergeant. We need to think about this and try and understand why the killer did the things he did. I think that's going to be key to finding out who did this," Edrin said.

  "Are you sure, Sir? We haven't even asked anyone if they saw anything yet?" the sergeant asked.

  "What, like a man running from the scene, covered in blood from everything he did and someone saw that but didn't think to tell anyone?" Edrin said. He didn't want to sound dismissive, but even the worst citizens in this area would surely have said something.

  The sergeant was right, though, they might find something from asking the locals questions. He didn't think a witness was likely, but they might get lucky. Maybe one of the nearby shopkeepers knew someone who visited him regularly. Maybe even a gang that frequented the area.

  "Are you ready to go back in then, Sergeant?" Edrin asked.

  "Not really. Give me a moment would you, Sir?" she said and disappeared downstairs. When she came back up, she had a couple of candles, a bowl and a jar of spice. She set the bowl on the floor, lit a candle with a match and dripped some wax into the bowl. Then she planted the candles in the wax to keep them still. Finally, she took out a pinch of spice and sprinkled it over the flames. An immediate scent of fresh flowers filled the corridor.

  "What on earth is that, Sergeant?" Edrin asked, relieved at the smell but somewhat curious.

  "It's something I saw them do at the King's Folly, Sir. The old women who gathered up the bodies, they threw herbs onto the campfires, and it made the place smell, well, not pleasant as such but certainly less grim. Of course, there it was more like whole bushes of wild plants like lavender. I thought it was worth a try here," she explained.

  "You were at the Folly?" he asked, somewhat surprised. She didn't look old enough. That was, what, fifteen years ago? "You're a bit young, surely, Sergeant?"

  She raised an eyebrow at that as she stood up, her work masking the scent of death apparently done. "Very kind of you to say, Sir but no, I'm not. I suppose I was a bit young to be at the Folly, but I joined up and did my duty. Much good it did anyone," she said regretfully.

  "Really? How old were you exactly, Sergeant?" he asked.

  That got him a hard stare. "Haven't you heard it's rude to ask a lady her age, Sir?" she said as she brushed past him, back into the chamber of horrors.

  Loft was about to respond then thought better of it. He coughed a little at the smoke from the bowl and then joining her in the room. It truly was ghastly to behold. The slick grey intestines were wet with blood, and he was fairly sure more organs had slid out of the chest cavity since they turned him over. Edrin tried not to think about that too much, he didn't want to imagine they'd caused this poor man any more indignity than was strictly necessary.

  The smoke from the Sergeant's improvised incense burner did mask the stench of death somewhat, but every time the smoke faltered, the sickly miasma rushed back in.

  Careful to avoid the sticky blood on the floor he walked over to the bed and then he saw the glint of something golden in the victim's right hand. He pointed it out to the Sergeant and then reached out to open the fingers. It took some effort, the cold dead fingers seemed determined to retain their prize. He pretty much had to wrench them open and felt sure he heard something break as he did. Fighting the urge to vomit again, he scooped up the golden object.

  On inspection, it proved to be a golden disc, with a set of scales embossed on it and two damaged rings on opposite sides, that suggested it was part of a larger piece. Probably a necklace, though the disc was rather ornate and much bigger than a coin, so it would be a pretty ostentatious accessory.

  The workmanship was of exceptional quality, and it didn't seem like the sort of thing this merchant would have been interested in buying. Nor would it look attractive on the neck of a young wife, assuming this man had a wife at all. It was far too big and gaudy.

  "What do you make of that, Sergeant?" he asked, passing it to her.

  "Looks like the merchant guild symbol, Sir. Maybe he grabbed it off his attacker? It's a bit hard to imagine the Guildmaster of one of the Guilds coming here to brutally kill a man in a fight and then do all this to him, though, Sir," she said.

  A reasonable enough conclusion, Edrin thought. Still, just because it seemed unusual didn't mean that a senior Guild member didn't come here in the dead of night and get into a violent struggle with this poor man. Maybe he'd been murdered for mundane reasons, and all the rest was just pantomime to make it look like something else entirely?

  Perhaps the Guilds were a lot more violent than he knew. As far as Loft was aware, their violence was usually restricted to punishing apprentices, and even that was frowned upon these days. In part that was because some of the more traditional corporal punishments left an apprentice unable to be useful for days or weeks.

  Still, outright murdering a rival and doing this to him was very different from the kind of sadistic tendencies it took to whip a disobedient or clumsy apprentice.

  "I agree, Sergeant. Maybe he didn't pay his dues, and their visit got out of hand? It could have been some kind of internal guild dispute. We should be able to find out who is missing such a valuable piece of jewellery though, don't you think? There can't be many goldsmiths in Kalider you'd go to, to repair something like this," Edrin said.

  Gurnt nodded in agreement. "I know a local artisan who might be able to help. I don't think he'd be who anyone would go to for something like this, but he owes me favours, and he'll know who does do work like this. He might even be able to identify it."

  "Excellent, Gurnt. I want Murt to stay here and make sure no-one comes in the building," Loft said.

  "Yes, Sir. What are you going to do?" Gurnt asked.

  "I have to visit a friend who might be able to give us some idea of what happened here," said Loft.

  "Sir? Who do you know who could do that? This doesn't seem like the wo
rk of your social circle," Gurnt enquired.

  "Ah, Sergeant, you don't expect me to give up all my secrets immediately, do you?" Loft said tapping his nose as he turned and left, disappearing into the early morning fog that cloaked the street.

  Sergeant Aliria Gurnt watched him leave, took one last glance at the ghastly corpse on the bed, shuddered and muttered, "I thought you might, you cagey sod. Aliria, I think this is going to be one of those weeks."

  Chapter Two

  There was a loud banging on the door, and a voice bellowed, "Open up in the name of the law! We know you're in there, Doctor Death and it's time to face up to your debt to society."

  There was a loud crash of something being knocked over, then muffled cursing, the sound of feet stumbling and tripping and another telltale thud from something else hitting the floor. Silence followed for a minute, then another round of curses and the stomping feet of a rudely awakened man coming to answer his door.

  "What in blazes is all this racket?" came the irate cry before the portal even opened. When the occupant saw who had disturbed him, he scowled and immediately tried to shut the door in the grinning face of Loft. A strategically placed foot held it open.

  "Morning!" he said cheerily "I have a job for you, Dr Gardener."

  The medic eyed him blearily then grudgingly stopped trying to close his door and waved him inside. "Really, Loft? I suppose this is another of those jobs that mysteriously consume a lot of my time but don't actually result in remuneration? Perhaps you want to know what killed your Captain's favourite hunting dog or maybe you've found a highly suspicious death of an elderly widow who was hit by an out of control cart, and you suspect foul play?"

  Loft ignored the sarcasm and pressed on, "Actually Doctor, I got a promotion to Captain, so I'm running my own Watch House now. That means I can actually pay you for your time." He pulled out a rickety looking chair at the small table the doctor waved him toward whilst his host busied himself in what amounted to a kitchen.

  "Wonderful, I'm very happy for you. What on earth makes you think I'd be interested in more of your mundane requests, hmm? I do actually have my own, living, patients to look after, you know," Gardener grumbled. Loft looked around at the small studio lodgings.

  It wasn't the most enticing of dwelling places, but it was better than the place they'd shared for some months after Loft left the Academy and the good doctor finished his own studies. Dr Gardener was clearly moving up in the world, albeit more slowly than Loft imagined he'd like to. This place even had a bathroom, he noted. It was also next door to a tannery, and the smell was pungent, to say the least.

  "This is a lot more interesting though Doctor. A man has been murdered, most brutally and I need you to tell me how it was done," Loft replied.

  "Are you unable to tell that yourself? Surely even you can recognise if a man had his head bashed in or cut off? I know you have some funny ideas, Loft but can you not manage to work this out yourself. I fail to see what I can add to your own conclusions." Gardener said as he busied himself in the kitchenette, putting a couple of plates out and filling two cups with water.

  He chopped up some bread and sat down opposite Loft, offering him a plate and a cup of water. Edrin looked at it suspiciously and picked up a piece of the entirely stale bread, spotted some mould and immediately put it down.

  "I know I've imposed in the past my dear, dear friend but now I can start to make amends. How about we go out for a celebratory breakfast at The Old Boar's Head, eh? My treat, to show you just how much I value your company," Loft said, partly in an effort to bribe the Doctor and partly to avoid having to drink the equally stale looking water out of politeness.

  That perked his friend up, The Old Boar's Head was, to Loft and Gardener at least, an eatery of quite legendary repute. In fact, like all young men, the appeal was found mostly in the quantity of simple but well-prepared food, rather than any especially notable culinary expertise. Still, it was the best of the affordable places and too expensive for either of them to eat at regularly in their student days.

  "If you insist, old boy!" said his friend, trying not to sound too eager "Lead on."

  Loft coughed, "Perhaps you might want to get dressed for the day, first?" he suggested, waving at Gardener's highly colourful nightclothes that he knew had been knitted by his adoring mother.

  Gardener looked down and nodded thoughtfully, moving to a pile of rumpled clothing at the foot of the bed. Loft turned his back, he'd already seen one horrific thing this morning and didn't really need to add the sight of his friend extricating himself from the oddly variegated shirt and pantaloons.

  The Doctor had a tendency to wear ill-matched clothing and forget to maintain it properly, and Loft expected that wouldn't change until he had a comfortable practice and maybe a servant to organise him properly.

  That was an advantage of being in the watch, officers paid for their own uniforms but they were cheap, hard wearing and you didn't have to choose an ensemble. Medical men had to maintain a certain image and dress more like a gentleman if they wished to attract a good or rather, wealthy, body of patients.

  It was disheartening to think that Gardener would probably never reach the peak of his profession due to a lack of courtly graces, leaving much less gifted practitioners to take the most lucrative clients.

  Loft knew he was an excellent doctor, but as the son of a tradesman, he'd not had the expensive upbringing or access to funds to set up his own practice in the better areas of the city. He also knew his friend didn't much care about who he treated, rich or poor, he just wanted to help people.

  Once he was ready and grudgingly agreed to take his bag of equipment with him, Loft led the way through the city streets to the Old Boar's Head. The city was really beginning to wake up now, and soon the major thoroughfares would be bustling with people.

  The river docks and markets would be the first to get busy, as the city's lifeblood began to flow. They would be active long before the bankers, the lawyers and the bureaucrats were active.

  "So, Loft, I ask again, what brings you to my place, with your sorry excuse for humour at this time in the morning? What's the urgency if the patient is dead?" the doctor asked, huffing as he tried to keep up with the Loft's default, brisk walking pace.

  "I can see how you might think that Doctor, but I have come to believe that the faster we can look into a crime, the more likely we are to apprehend the criminal responsible. If we let too much time pass, any hope of finding something that leads us to the killer will vanish," he explained.

  "You said this was brutal, how bad is it, exactly?"

  Loft stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face the doctor, his expression serious. "It's nasty, Merrick. Very nasty," his voice dropped to little more than a whisper, "I think they strangled him. They definitely stabbed him, they put out his eyes and they opened up his belly."

  Watching his friends face blanch as it drained of blood was not the type of experience Loft wanted, but it was necessary. He didn't want Gardener to be unprepared for this. Doubtless, he'd seen stomach churning things when he'd studied anatomy, but the university typically got its cadavers from industrial accidents.

  This was cold blooded murder, someone had deliberately done this to another human being, and that was entirely different.

  Gardener took a deep breath, shuddered and walked on, "Right, sounds foul. How about we talk about something else whilst we eat, eh? I'd rather not spoil a good meal. Is he fresh, though?"

  "No, sorry, I think it was probably a few days before anyone found him and we got there. He's pretty ripe already."

  The doctor nodded, "I suppose that was too much to hope for. We should stop at a chemist then, there are a couple of things we can get that will help with that, but not before we eat."

  They continued in silence until they reached their favourite haunt. Once they'd got seated, with some clean, fresh water and food on the way, they perked up, "How is the promotion suiting you then? You're young to be a Captain."


  "Yes, but after that business a few months ago the commanders saw fit to reward me with my own watchhouse and I had to be a Captain for that. I've only been there a few days," Loft said.

  "There was me thinking you'd trodden on a few toes and you end up getting made up to Captain. Congratulations, old man. Which watchhouse did you get?" Gardener asked.

  Loft smiled, "The Thieftakers, at the Old Gate Watchhouse."

  There was a spluttering cough from Gardener as some of his drink went down the wrong way. He set it down and dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief. Smiling weakly he said, "The Thieftakers you say. Capital. I've heard they're a… ah… a fine body of men," he concluded.

  "Yes indeed. They get to do a lot of the real work of the Watch, chasing the most dangerous criminals and bringing them to the magistrates for justice. It's ideal, Merrick. I can really make a difference with this command."

  Dr Merrick Gardener did not quite see this the same way, his friend had always been bright, creative with an inquisitive mind. Even an outsider could see that Loft's ideas were not popular amongst the commanders of the Watch though. They weren't renowned for their forward thinking attitudes towards modern concepts such as logic and reason.