The Mutilated Merchant (The Edrin Loft Mysteries Book 1)

by Jon Evans

  "You're welcome, Captain. Best of luck catching your quarry, Perl was a good man and didn't deserve such a fate," Verre said.

  "You were very quiet in there, Sergeant," Loft commented.

  "Didn't have anything to say, Sir," Gurnt replied.

  "Very well but don't hold back if you have questions when we're interviewing someone, Sergeant. You have experience and good instincts, and I value your insight. Now, any idea where this address is?" Loft said, handing the card to her.

  She looked at it for a moment, glanced around at the street signs and pointed to a road to the east. "Best route is that way, Captain. It's not more than ten minutes away," she said.

  "What do you think about the bottles?" Loft asked as they set off to the family house.

  "Dunno. They look like medicine bottles, and I don't recall anything like that anywhere in the house. We've not finished with the basement yet of course," Gurnt said.

  "That's true. Let's make a point of checking through everything we find. If Perl bought them often enough for the glass blower to notice, he must have used them regularly. We could look at the sales ledger in case it's something listed in there. He may have been making something refined that sold quickly or to special order," Loft said.

  "Or poison. Could have been poison," Gurnt offered.

  "That's a dark thought Sergeant, what brings it to mind?" Loft asked

  "I think the basement full of weaponry is a bit of a clue. If he was selling weapons, he might also sell poison, and a little bottle would be ideal for that. It's not as if people order poison by the gallon, is it? It would explain the apothecary glassware as well," Gurnt said.

  "It's a bit of a reach though, what do you imagine, he made the poison out of his deadly collection of cooking spices?" Loft said.

  "Yeah, well, I've had some curries in restaurants that were pretty toxic. I wouldn't want the any of that stuff in a stab wound," Gurnt said.

  "I'd rather not have the stab wound, full stop but I take your point. We should look into it if we don't find any of those bottles in use. It would explain the irregular purchases at least. There has to be a limited demand for poison, even among the gangs," Loft said, more out of hope than any sincere belief that the criminal elements in the city weren't poisoning several people a week without the Watch noticing.

  They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Loft followed Gurnt as she wended her way through the streets and alleyways. She had a surety of direction that spoke of her years spent pursuing criminals throughout the city.

  Westgate wasn't the part of the city that Loft had grown up in so he couldn't claim to know any but its largest streets. The alleyways in his neighbourhood were neat, deliberate and infrequent.

  Here the city was older and as far as he new unplanned. Only the locals understood the resulting mess of dead ends and alleyways. At least the Watch House was on the main thoroughfare and easy to find.

  They popped out of the last alley and onto a broad tree lined street that he did recognise. "Here?" He asked

  "No. Just a few streets up I think."

  They walked north along the avenue, that was mostly houses. The houses on the west side of the avenue were smaller and cheaper than the much grander mansion houses on the east. They were still fine buildings, much nicer than the house that Loft had grown up in and each had a small garden at the front. The buildings on the other side also had gardens but were set further back from the road, and there was more individuality in the designs, though they all followed the same general architectural style.

  'There it is,' Gurnt said gesturing to a side street.

  The houses on that street were smaller and the street narrower than the avenue, but it was still a cobbled road which marked the area as comparatively affluent. These houses were far less grand than the mansions on the avenue, but they still had small neat gardens and brick walls.

  "Number 5. Here it is," she said.

  Gurnt walked through the open gate and up the short path to the front door. She hammered door knocker, and they waited for a few minutes. "Doesn't look like anyone is home, Sir," Gurnt said eventually.

  "Try the door, and if it's locked, we'll walk around the house and see if there's another way inside. Maybe they left another door unlocked or a window open. I don't want to have to break in if we don't have to," Loft said.

  Sergeant Gurnt rattled the doorknob but to no avail and they split up, she to the east and Loft heading around the house to the west. They met in the back garden. He had only encountered small, windows on the upper floor on his side and Gurnt reported the same design on the east.

  The back garden was larger than the front and mostly laid to lawn, with a large tree to one side. A simple swing made from rope and a plank was tied to one branch and swayed gently in the breeze.

  There was other evidence of children in the garden, here a leather ball for playing catch, there a hoop and stick leaned up against the wall. It seemed eerie somehow, the abandoned playthings of children whose father was never coming home. Loft swallowed and took a deep breath, what if the murderer had paid a visit to the family too? Despite the sun warming his back, he shivered as he turned to face the back of the house.

  Gurnt tried the back door, but it too was locked. "I suppose we'd best break it down then," said Loft.

  "We could do that if you want," Gurnt called out as she wandered about the garden turning large stones over and lifting up flowerpots.

  Loft had to ask, "What are you doing, Sergeant?"

  "Looking for a spare key. Lots of families have one for kids to use if their mother is out when they come home. Especially in places like this, nice houses, not many burglars in this part of the city, they stand out too much. Plus they've got a nice big garden with lots of places to hide a key," Gurnt said.

  After a few minutes though she returned to the door. "No luck then, Sergeant? I suppose we'll have to put our shoulders to it," Loft prompted.

  "I'm not done yet, Sir," Gurnt said, dropping into a crouch before the door and removing a slim packet from an inside pocket of her jerkin. She withdrew a pair of slender pieces of metal and slid them into the lock, cocking her head and biting her lips as she twisted and turned them.

  Loft was fascinated. He was aware that thieves sometimes opened locks without a key, but he'd never actually seen anyone do it. He was wondering how long it would take the Sergeant to get the job done when there came a distinct click and she stood up, turned the handle and opened the door.

  That display made Loft think about the last place he'd had digs. It had had a similar lock to the one on this door, but he'd never have thought it would be so easy to break through. At least at the watch house, he didn't have to worry about such things.

  The door opened straight into a large kitchen dominated by a sturdy dining table. Loft noted that there were five chairs of varying designs placed around it. Two were clearly for smaller children.

  Gurnt stepped over to the large ceramic sink. Then started opening cupboards. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for opening a bread bin on the counter near the stove. She cautiously tugged the bread out and inspected it. Picking up a knife, she tapped it against the cut end with an audible thunk. "I'd say that's pretty stale wouldn't you?"

  "Sounds it. It looks like it's got some mould too. Superb work Sergeant. The family must have been away for some time," Loft said,"See what I mean about your valuable insight?"

  "Or they're dead of course," she said, darkly.

  "I prefer to look on the bright side. One dead body is quite depressing enough, thank you, no need to go presuming there'll be more," Loft said.

  "Just being realistic. The man who killed Perl wouldn't shy away from killing kiddies or women," Gurnt said with a shrug.

  Loft didn't respond to that he took a moment to steel himself before walking down the corridor and on into the room on the right. It was a simple family room overlooking the front garden.

  No dead bodies in here, he thought. That's something at least
.

  He looked around briefly then turned back to the corridor. Gurnt was coming out of the door on the other side of the corridor, shaking her head, "Nothing in there just a dining room it doesn't look like they use and a study. Shall we check upstairs?"

  The implication was clear, Gurnt was expecting to find the family already dead. Best to get it over with and then search the place properly if they didn't find the. It wouldn't be right to rummage through the papers in the study if Perl's wife and kids were lying upstairs waiting to be discovered.

  With a growing sense of trepidation, Loft counted the stairs Gurnt trudging glumly behind him. The very sounds of their feet on the treads of the steps betrayed their dread of what they might find.

  Loft couldn't help putting his hand to the hilt of his shortsword as he reached the hallway at the top. Ridiculous he thought, the odds of them having made it here just as the murderer was finishing off his victims were exceptionally unlikely.

  That didn't prevent his heart hammering it on his chest. It didn't stop his brow from sweating or the bitter taste in his mouth.

  "I'm right behind you sir," Gurnt said softly. He heard the soft scrape of leather against blade as she drew a weapon.

  He was rooted to the spot barely moving, and she whispered again, "Trust your instincts Captain. Draw and move. Better to have a weapon out and find a house cat than to get ambushed. Hairs on the back of your neck stood up? They do it for a reason. Plenty a watchman has got stabbed for lack of caution."

  Loft gulped. The advice seemed sound. Slowly he drew his sword from its sheath. He'd done it hundreds of times even practising like a schoolboy until his roommate at the Academy caught him and ended up confessing that he too had posed in front of a mirror trying to draw his sword in the most stylish way possible.

  They had laughed then at their childish delight in playing with their new weapons as if they were toys.

  Now it just seemed so much more real. Loft didn't doubt Gurnt's advice about dead watchmen was true. The slight sound his sword made as it left the sheath sounded like the creak of a poorly maintained door in the still air of the vacant house. He caught himself trying to work out how he could do this more quietly and had to stop himself to concentrate on moving forward.

  He waved his hand indicating he would head right toward the first door. Gurnt would have to take the one on the left.

  Loft stepped forward moving toward the open doorway. He kept his sword in front if his body as he looked then moved swiftly inside. Empty. He breathed a sigh of relief and scanned the room for any place a would be assailant could hide.

  Just an ordinary child's bedroom. Bunk beds and toys a chest of drawers a small side table. Nothing remarkable.

  Having satisfied himself that there were neither murderers nor corpses lying in wait he returned to the corridor. Gurnt was waiting for him, prudently keeping guard on the closed door Loft guessed would be the master bedroom. She nodded toward the handle, and he returned the gesture to indicate he understood.

  He stepped to the left side of the door and reached out to turn the handle as quietly as possible. There was no lock, and the door was well oiled. It slid open without any revealing creaks. Gurnt stood as far to the right as she could against the window that faced the stairs.

  The sergeant gently pushed the door wide open with the tip of her boot. Nothing happened, and Loft released the breath he'd been holding without even realising. Gurnt went in, and he followed. It was the master bedroom. They checked the wardrobes first, finding only clothing.

  The bathroom was a surprise, as it only served this room which was rather luxurious in Loft's opinion. Only a small portion of the city could afford it, and only the newer houses were likely to have such a decadent feature.

  They moved into the corridor again and looked and looked down the hall toward the front of the house. On the right side past the stairs, there was one door with a sign written in a childish hand that labelled it as a bathroom.

  On the left, there were two more rooms one of which had a sign written in the same hand identifying it as Dilar's room. The children's bedrooms presumably. Three bedrooms, so Perl and his wife had three children.

  All the doors were closed, and Loft and Gurnt headed cautiously down the corridor. Gurnt moved toward the bathroom door, and Loft flattened himself against the window allowing him to see all the doors.

  Gurnt held her long dagger out before her and pushed the door open with her left foot. A small bath, mirror and sink. Even a brand new shower Loft noted, plumbing shiny and fresh. Anar had been doing well enough to furnish the house to a much higher standard than the size would have suggested.

  They turned to the door opposite, and Loft opened it while Gurnt stood guard. Just a small single bedroom. Loft crouched and squinted under the bed but saw nothing.

  Another almost identical room followed, but this one belonged to a little girl. There was a cot next to a small bed and Loft guessed she couldn't be more than three or four judging by that and the toys in the room.

  They stood before the last room and Loft couldn't tell if he was more or less nervous. Did the lack of anything horrifying mean the family were safe or that the last room was where they'd be found murdered and mutilated?

  The door was ajar, and he couldn't smell anything, so maybe that was a good sign. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open with his foot copying Gurnt's technique. It seemed like she knew what she was doing and it meant his hands weren't in easy reach of a weapon if there was someone in the room. He heard Gurnt breathe a sigh of relief that echoed his own. The room was empty.

  He straightened up and laughed.

  "Is it always like that?" he asked.

  "When you think you might find bodies or get jumped? Always has been for me," Gurnt replied, visibly relaxing.

  "Has it ever been worth it?" Loft said.

  "What? Being vigilant?" Gurnt asked.

  "Yes, and the nerves that go with it," Loft said.

  "Most of the time it's been nothing. A couple of times I've been jumped but was ready. I'm a nasty suspicious type, always have been. Always been wary and I've never ended up in the infirmary. I've seen officers get jumped and it isn't usually more than fisticuffs. They're still shaken up by it, and it makes them jumpy. Makes them vulnerable next time," Gurnt said.

  "So a few nervous times are better than getting surprised once?" Loft asked.

  "That's the long and short of it. So, now we know there are no dead bodies, what are we looking for?" Gurnt asked.

  "They're not here, and I didn't see anything that would suggest they have been here in the last a few days. Did you?" Loft said.

  "Nothing I saw. I think they left," Gurnt replied.

  "I want to find them if we can. Let's check the bedrooms first. If they left in a hurry, they probably didn't take much, but if they planned it, they'd have taken everything they could. Any papers or letters that might tell us about Perl's enemies," Loft said, "I'll do the master bedroom."

  "Check for jewellery," Gurnt suggested.

  "Jewellery?" Loft said, somewhat puzzled.

  "If it's valuable, it's money. If it's not, it's sentiment. Either way, Perl's wife would take any jewellery with her if she had time,"

  "Good point, Sergeant. I'll make sure to check," Loft said.

  He went back to the main room while Gurnt searched the children's bedrooms. The mattress turned out to be heavy and worse; there wasn't anything under it. That strenuous element out of the way Loft turned to the cabinets on each side of the bed.

  They contained the expected personal items, old purses, a candle and some matches, a comb, assorted small coins from other countries. Nothing gold or silver or of obvious value. Gloves, cufflinks and a penknife suggested this was Mr Perl's side of the bed.

  The second cabinet was neatly organised, as opposed to the jumble of her husband's collection of personal items. There wasn't any jewellery or anything else of worth. He saw a cheap wooden hairbrush and some handkerchiefs, a book
of poetry that Loft had found somewhat turgid when forced to read it at school and a small box of cough sweets.

  He glanced around the room and picked Mr's Perl's dressing table next, an ornate affair with a large tilting mirror and more drawers than Loft could imagine a need for. He found makeup, ribbons and powders but no jewellery and no hairbrush. There were strands of thick black hair in the small bin next to the table and Loft picked it up to see if anything else had been discarded.

  Apart from the tangled ball of hair there was just some tissue paper with remnants of makeup on it. He couldn't find a hairbrush to match the table though and he imagined the one in the drawer was old or just used for the children. With this amount of money, Mrs Perl would surely have a more decorative hairbrush or at least one that was still in good condition.