“I’ll hold you to that.”
She looked at him.
“I mean it,” he said seriously.
“So do I,” she replied. There was a pause. “So, do you want something to eat?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t say no to a quick sandwich, thanks.”
“Ham and cheese, coming right up.”
When he bit into his sandwich, Peter moaned in delight. Diana’s ham and cheese sandwiches were never as simple as they sounded. Tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, mayo, prosciutto, and Gouda cheese. “I swear, you’re even better in the kitchen than you are at interrogating people.”
“Why, thank you, detective,” she said with a smile. “So, what’s this case?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know much. Dunway was first on the scene. The victim is male. He’s been decapitated.” Diana’s eyebrows climbed into her scalp. “Thing is that when I last spoke to Dunway, they hadn’t found the head. Since he hasn’t called me back, I’m assuming it’s still missing.”
Diana’s eyes twinkled. “Sounds like my kind of case.”
“You are the weirdest woman I’ve ever met. You get excited over dead bodies and missing heads and have no problem talking about decapitation over breakfast at 4AM.”
She snorted. “Further proof I spend way too much time with you. I know, I know, you’re absolutely perfect. You complain that I’m a little out of sorts on certain mornings? You put me to shame. You’re surly and unpleasant all the time,” she pointed out.
“No, I’m not. I’m just impatient—”
“And surly. And unpleasant. And bossy. And even obnoxious on occasion.” She enumerated a few of his less endearing traits.
“I’m not like that with you,” he replied.
She dipped her head and looked at him dubiously from under her eyebrows, long eyelashes splayed wide.
Peter ignored her little dig and polished off his sandwich. He would get her for it later. He always did. He took his plate to the sink, washed it, and put it in the rack to dry. “Come on, madam, let’s get going. There’s a body waiting for us, and Doc won’t hold off forever.”
He was right. They couldn’t keep everyone waiting. Her phone showed it was half past four. She would make sure she got back in a few hours to take Max out for a walk and feed him.
“Okay, let’s go.” She shut the door behind them and checked that it was locked. She looked around as she did so, watchful. Nothing was moving.
While they waited for the elevator, she held out her hand. “Keys.”
“No,” he snapped.
She leveled a glare at him. “I’m driving.”
“No, you’re not. It’s my car.”
“You drive like a little old lady.”
“Just because I choose to drive safely and make sure we get there in one piece doesn’t mean I drive like a little old lady.”
She got into the elevator. “When you drive, scooters overtake us.”
“And when you drive, they put out a nationwide alert.”
“At least I don’t watch horses trot by when I’m driving,” she muttered. “Hand the keys over.”
“You don’t know where we’re going.” He had lost this argument more than once, and if he didn’t tie it up now, she would make a run for the car and post herself in front of the driver’s door until he gave up the keys.
Diana opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort but changed her mind. “And you’re not going to tell me until you’re driving, are you?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Fine. But you still drive like a little old lady,” she sniped.
A few minutes later, they were driving through a very quiet Vancouver. “So, where was the body found?” she asked.
Since he was safely behind the wheel, Peter saw no reason to keep it a secret any longer. “Downtown Eastside,” he replied, naming one of the worst areas in the city. It was a den for drug dealers, drug addicts, sex workers, and many other people dancing with the darker side of life. No one in their right mind would want to be hanging around Downtown Eastside in the dead of night. Not unless they carried a gun, and even then, it was best to keep one’s head down.
“You take me to the nicest places,” she said sweetly.
“I know. Thoughtful, aren’t I?”
She shook her head. “The best.”
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN THEY GOT there, the crime scene was already bustling with activity. Spotlights lit up the corner of the alley where the body lay, trash and fallen leaves obscuring it from the street. There wasn’t a homeless person, drug addict, or prostitute in sight.
Diana looked at all the uniformed officers and wrinkled her brow. “I hope they haven’t moved anything.” She bit her lip.
“Don’t worry. They know you’re coming. They wouldn’t dare,” Peter replied.
Diana threw Peter a dirty look. She wasn’t that bad. But some of the constables, especially the rookies, tended to lose their lunches at gruesome sights, or they were a little overzealous in their attempt to impress their superiors. They ended up contaminating the crime scene. Once, after a rookie had removed a key piece of evidence from a body, Diana had exploded. While she could be uncommunicative and come off as snotty – as Peter so quaintly put it – she rarely let her temper fly. That day though, she’d sent it to Mars. The rookie almost cried.
Since then, everyone in VPD knew if Peter was assigned a case, Diana wouldn’t be far behind, and that meant nothing could barely be looked at, let alone touched before she got there.
Diana got out of the car and followed Peter into the alley. “Good morning, Dunway, Gibson,” she greeted the two constables guarding the crime scene. “What do you have for us?” she asked.
“Good morning, ma’am, sir,” Dunway replied. The constable glanced toward the back of the alley and swallowed. “It’s a bit unsettling, Miss,” he said. “There’s no head to the body.”
She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about me. I have a strong stomach.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Dunway trailed off. When she nodded, he led them to the body. Diana lifted her chin slightly but stared resolutely. Just as Dunway had said, the body was headless.
Peter winced slightly but was far too experienced with the sight of broken bodies to be affected further. He turned to Dunway. “Doc not here yet?” he asked.
Dunway shook his head. “He called a little while ago to say he was twenty minutes out.”
Peter pulled two pairs of latex gloves from his pocket and handed one of them to Diana. “Any identification on him?” she asked Dunway.
“No, Miss. I checked his pockets for a wallet but there was nothing.”
Diana’s lips tightened into a harsh line. Dunway noticed and raised his palms. “I swear, Miss, I only checked his pockets. Nothing else.” She nodded, satisfied. Diana stood while Peter lowered himself to study the body. “You see what I’m seeing?” she asked.
“Expensive clothes. Too expensive for this part of town.” The man was dressed in a high-end quality suit that Diana would stake her life on was custom made. Just like the shirt and tie.
“Clearly, not a denizen of the area,” Diana said. “So, was he in this part of town because he was having a really bad day, or was his body dumped here?” Diana tapped her lip. She walked around the body to take a look at the neck.
“The cut is clean through. This was done with a very sharp implement and by someone very strong.”
Peter came around and looked at the wound. Cutting off someone’s head wasn’t easy.
“What do you think cause of death was?” Diana asked, looking over the rest of the body.
Peter looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “How about removal of one’s head from one’s body?“
“Ha, ha, aren’t you the smart one? How could I have missed that, I wonder? But if your smartass-ness would like to take a closer look, you’ll see there is very little evidence of bleeding. Unless of course, your st
omach’s too weak to take a closer look,” she replied sweetly.
Peter frowned. “My stomach is fine, thank you very much.” He lowered himself down to the body’s level again. “I guess you’re right. Something besides the obvious killed him.” He looked up. “Dunway, any sign yet of his head?”
“Sorry, Detective, nothing. We have men out searching every nook, cranny, and dumpster on a five-block radius.”
“If we don’t find it, it will be hard to identify him,” Peter said. “I’d like to hope that his fingerprints are in the system, but judging by his clothes, I doubt he’s had any run-ins with the law.”
“We might get lucky. If he’s as rich as his appearance suggests, someone will report him missing, even if it’s just to make sure they can get their hands on his money,” Diana said.
“You’re rather cynical this fine morning?”
“Huh?”
“Well, you know, he might be reported missing because he’s somebody’s loved one,” Peter suggested.
“Maybe, but even if he’s loathed by everyone he knows, he’ll still be reported missing. Someone will want to get a hold of his money.”
“I give up. There’s not a single soft, romantic or compassionate bone in that entire body, is there?” Peter gestured at her from head to toe.
“Compassion? You don’t even know the meaning of the word. And romance?” Diana snorted again. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Chugging beer while watching hockey in a bar is not romantic.”
“She said she loved hockey,” he shot back.
Diana looked heavenward.
“They at it again?” a new voice intervened. “Who’s winning?”
Peter and Diana looked over. Doc Riddle had arrived.
“I’d say Ms. Hunter is in the lead this time,” Dunway chuckled.
Diana looked at Peter and gave him a smug grin. Peter glared at Dunway.
“Leave the poor man alone, Peter. Just because you’re a sore loser doesn’t mean you should take it out on other people,” Diana scolded.
“I didn’t even say anything!” he exclaimed.
“Would you two stop bickering long enough to get out of my way?” Doc snapped. They jumped like naughty children. A small, balding man in his fifties and a paper body suit and booties rustled past them into the spotlight.
“Yes, Doc,” they chorused and moved out of the way to give the medical examiner room to work.
They kept quiet, well aware Doc didn’t like to be disturbed when he examined a body, whether it was during the initial analysis or when he performed the autopsy. After six minutes of complete silence, however, Peter dared, “So, anything interesting?”
Doc didn’t look up. “How about a body without a head?” he muttered.
A few minutes later, Doc hummed. “Found something?” Peter tried again. Diana marveled at his courage.
“Maybe,” he said, studying the body’s left hand closely. He got up and moved around the body to look at the other hand.
“Look at this,” Doc motioned them over. “What do you see?” he asked. He showed them the man’s hand, palm side up. The finger pads had been eaten away.
“Acid?” Diana asked.
“I think so. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. I’ll run some tests when I get the body to the morgue to make sure.”
“Pre- or post-mortem?” Peter asked.
“I’m pretty sure this was done after he died. The crime scene is too clean. I would expect to see splash marks on his hands and the ground if he’d been alive when it was done. It looks almost like the acid was painted on. It was done carefully.
“So we can assume our killer wanted to stop the victim from being identified. Or at least delay the process,” Peter said. He caught sight of Diana’s face. She looked stunned, “What is it?”
“Doc, when you get to the morgue, could you run a full tox screen on him?” she said.
“I was going to anyway, but if you tell me what you’re looking for, it’ll make things easier.”
“Some type of neuromuscular blocking agent,” she replied.
“A what?” Peter asked.
“They are a class of drugs that cause paralysis. They’re used in surgery, alongside anesthetics, to prevent the muscles from moving,” Doc explained quickly.
Peter frowned and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s just a hunch,” Diana said. She turned to the medical examiner, “Can you look in his pockets?”
Doc slipped two gloved fingers into both of the body’s pant pockets, then his jacket’s breast pocket. Doc pulled out what looked, at first glance, like a folded blue piece of paper. It was a surgical mask. Peter looked over at Diana, but she was striding away, head down, her hands stuffed in her coat. Something was up.
CHAPTER FOUR
PETER DROPPED THE mask into an evidence bag and caught up with Diana. She often opted to keep her early theories to herself until she had a little evidence to back them up. But Peter could see from the worried look in her eyes and stiff posture, there was a lot more going on than just her wanting to keep her ideas private for now.
He pulled her aside, making sure they were out of everyone’s earshot. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
Diana looked up at him. “We’re in a whole heap of trouble.”
“You’ve seen something like this before?”
She nodded. “Kind of.”
“Do we have a serial killer?”
Diana shook her head then paused. “Technically, no, but he is a psychopath.” She hesitated. “If Doc finds a neuromuscular blocking agent in that guy’s body, this was a professional hit.”
Peter frowned. “A hit? Come on, Diana. Assassins like to do things clean and quick. A bullet between the eyes usually suffices. They don’t normally get down and dirty with their marks. Chopping off heads and burning away fingerprints isn’t usually their style. This guy, whoever he was, took his time with our friend over here.”
Diana frowned. “If the person who did this is the person I think it is, we’ve got trouble. He is known as Surgeon on account of the mask he always wears and leaves at the scene,” she said. “He’s a killer for hire and at the top of his game. He usually does jobs for drug cartels and terrorist organizations. And he only ever goes after high value targets. He travels all over the world fulfilling his contracts.”
“How do you know all this?”
“CSIS. We tracked him for a while.”
“And you never caught the guy?”
Diana shook her head. “No. He was only loosely connected to certain organizations we were investigating. Nothing concrete. The one time he set foot on Canadian soil, we lost him. Since he was a foreign national and he never returned, the higher-ups in CSIS had no reason to go after him.
“Hmm, well, now they do.”
“Yes. Now he’s turned up here. I hope I’m wrong. I really do. And it might not be him, cutting off heads isn’t his style at all, but the other trademarks fit. And if it is him, then we have another problem.”
“Oh?”
Diana shook her head. “CSIS will want in. They might even take the case from us.”
Peter frowned. “That will depend, surely? If they want to work with us, I’m fine with that, but this looks like a murder, not a part of a terrorist plot. Technically, they have no jurisdiction.”
“We don’t know if it’s just a simple murder and even if it is—”
“VPD, and me specifically,” Peter clarified, “don’t take kindly to interlopers. They can’t just take the case. They have no authority muscling in.”
Diana shrugged. “They won’t see it like that.”
Peter looked her straight in the eye. Diana was equivocating. That was unlike her. He still didn’t know exactly what she had done for CSIS but he understood the workings of the organization enough to know it had to be ruthless when pursuing its objectives. He also understood the power politics that were rife in such an organization and the dangerous work that instilled a loyalt
y that could seem illogical or out of character to an outsider.
Still, he couldn’t help but challenge her. “How do you see it?” He was asking her where her loyalties lay. Would she side with CSIS against VPD? Against him?
She looked right back at him, and without hesitation said, “We’ll clean this up. I’ll back you up, don’t worry. But it won’t be easy,” she warned. “If this is Surgeon, we’re looking at more than one guy’s murder. It’s likely there’s a lot going on, and we might not like what we find.”
Peter shrugged. “I’m up for it if you are.” Diana looked away.
“Anyhow, it’s all moot until Doc does his thing. Let’s take a look around and see if we can’t figure out who our victim is. Fingers crossed this is just a run-of-the-mill nutcase,” she said.
“You know things are bad when you’re hoping the perp turns out to be only a serial killer,” Peter muttered.
“You have no idea,” Diana replied.
They spent the next hour combing the crime scene, doing their best to stay out of Tina’s way. The head of the crime lab had arrived and had gotten straight to work. They hadn’t found much. The scene had been carefully photographed, Tina and her people had done a thorough sweep, and Diana and Peter had done everything they could, including dumpster diving, to find any clue that might uncover the identity of their victim. The head did not turn up.
“Maybe our killer took it with him as a trophy of sorts.”
Diana’s heart had surged a little at the idea. Her man wasn’t known for taking trophies. Perhaps it wasn’t him.
“Let’s hope so,” she replied. “I’d really like to be wrong on this.”
“Well, there’s nothing more we can do here,” Peter said. “Let’s get down to the station. Missing persons might have something for us.”
Diana took her phone out to check the time. She was feeling depressed and anxious. It was almost seven in the morning. “Can you drop me off at my place? I need to take Max out. I’ll meet you later.”
“Sure. Anything for my guy, Max,” he smiled, “As long as you bring me a coffee when you come in.” He saw her hesitate. “Are you okay?”
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