Rex 01 The Atomic Circus Read online

  Regarding The Body

  1.

  A story’s never a good story unless it starts with a murder. The more unusual the murder, the better the story, generally speaking.

  The scene before us is a most unusual one. It is dusk in the seaside town of Dartley, and a man lies face-down in a small crater, in the concrete of the promenade, just about as dead as you can get. Another man, dressed head to toe in black, stands beside the body, watching it, and very much alive. Police sirens signal the arrival of the official forces, but it’s hard to see where they’re coming from in the thick smog that surrounds the crime scene.

  It’s important, that smog. Don’t ever forget about the smog.

  After a few moments two panda cars come into view, and the man in black waves them over. He’s the one who called them; the one who found the body. A young officer steps out of the nearest car, adjusting his gasmask as he goes. He approaches the man in black; he too is masked up against the toxic smoke around them. The body isn’t wearing a mask. It’s quite unnecessary when you’re dead.

  The officer steps up uncertainly, his eyes roving suspiciously over the other man, most particularly to his gloved hands and his high-collared coat. When he finds the man’s pale face over the top of his mask, he is surprised to see a youthful complexion. The mysterious man has bright, blue eyes, and he can only be a few years old than the officer himself. “You found the body, sir?” Asks the officer.

  “I did.” The young man replies in a voice so rough you’d swear his throat was bleeding. The gristle in his tone echoes through the gasmask.

  “Your name, sir?” The officer trembles quite visibly. This is his first murder scene, and his training certainly hasn’t prepared him enough.

  “Caecilius Rex.”

  The officer starts; you can almost imagine the confused contortion of his mouth under that mask. “You’re going to have to give me that again, sir,” he says, retrieving a small tablet from his pocket.

  The young man they call Rex is frustrated by this, as always. “KAI-KILL-EE-USS,” he says in his most obnoxious tone, “It’s really not that difficult.”

  “And your occupation?” The younger man asks, still typing.

  “Police detective,” says Caecilius Rex.

  2.

  Cae did not appreciate being detained at the station for questioning. He was sure the case would be handed to him in the morning anyway, given its unusual circumstances. There is nobody better suited to macabre, unexplained events then Caecilius Rex. That’s not usually something you should be proud of, but Cae is, even at his best, a very peculiar young man.

  At the moment he is at home, answering the door to his next-door neighbour of the last three months. She says nothing as she passes him, heading for the kitchen through the clean-air partition at the end of the hall. She walks with wide, confident strides. Cae follows until they are through the barriers, and they remove their gasmasks in unison in the brightly lit kitchen-diner.

  “Good of you to come at such a late hour, Kendra.”

  “I was still up,” Kendra replies. She rubs her face where the elastic strap of the mask has been. It has made a pale mark on her dark brown skin. She looks viciously at her mask. “I hate these things,” she adds.

  “Perhaps you should get a new one fitted,” Cae replies, pouring her a coffee, “I hear they make them with diamantes now.”

  Kendra laughs a masculine laugh that twists one side of her mouth. It would not be at all accurate to say that Kendra was pretty. One could, in fact, suppose that she had done everything in her power to disguise or destroy any ounce of natural beauty she may once have possessed. Caecilius appreciated that; he regarded beauty as a distraction from the real matters in life.

  There were many reasons that he liked Kendra. He liked her because she had never asked him why he kept his gloves on indoors. She liked him because he had never asked her why she was discharged from the army. Suffice to say they didn’t talk much, until a good case came along.

  Like it had today.

  “So there’s body right?” Kendra asks. “You don’t ever call me unless there’s a body.”

  This statement holds a lot of truth. Despite living right next door, Cae hasn’t seen Kendra for three weeks - it’s been unusually slow at the office of late.

  “I found the body,” Cae says with an almost gleeful smile. The smile sits strangely on his youthful face, which is sallow and pale and much more befitting of a frown.

  “Lucky you?” Kendra replies uncertainly.

  “I got a good look at the scene before Panda Patrol got there and screwed anything up,” he explains.

  “Ah,” Kendra says with a mouthful of coffee. “So?”

  “So the body was bound at the hands and feet, and he’d crashed face down into the prom from a great height.”

  Kendra’s eyes wince. “Ouch. Too bad he didn’t hit the beach.”

  Cae shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have helped him. There’s more.”

  Kendra surveys her unlikely friend. “There’s always more with you.”

  “The body was covered in burns. Extreme burns. Like he’d been incinerated from the outside in.” Kendra pulls an ugly face at this point, but Cae just keeps talking. “And then there was this.”

  He points to a small plastic bottle sitting before them on the breakfast bar. It’s fairly nondescript, apart from the word LIFT that’s been written on the side in marker pen.

  “I thought you said you were done tampering with crime scenes?” Kendra asks.

  Cae ignores her and continues. “There’s a bit of powdery stuff in the bottom,” he says.

  Kendra takes a moment, then puts down her coffee. “So this guy was drugged, tied-up, burnt to a crisp and then thrown off a building? Boy, somebody really wanted him gone.”

  Cae carries on staring at the bottle of LIFT. “Must be a codename,” he ponders.

  “Who is he? The body?” Kendra inquires.

  Cae just shakes his head. “There was no ID. Won’t know ‘til I get to the lab in the morning.’

  Kendra too finds herself staring at the bottle now. “What’s the betting he’s involved in something chemical?”

  “Everything is chemical,” Caecilius replies.

  3.

  I suppose it’s wrong to get excited about a murder, but that doesn’t stop the little spring in the step of Special Police Detective Caecilius Rex as he enters Dartley Station the next morning. His eyes are bloodshot as usual, and he dons his long-sleeved polo-neck and black leather gloves as always. In some places he’d be a sight for sore eyes, perhaps mistaken for a bank robber or a serial killer, but here everyone knows his style. And, perhaps more importantly, they know not to question him about it.

  As Cae reaches his office, a voice from behind halts him.

  “Don’t bother sitting down, Rex.” The unmistakable drawl of the Police Chief, Damian Jobe, greets Cae’s ears merrily.

  “I suppose I’m getting the case from last night?” Cae asks as he turns round. He is surprised to see an unfamiliar face standing next to the chief. A girl. She’s a woman, to be more precise, but Cae tends to see all pretty women as girls at first.

  “You’ll get to that later,” says Jobe. “First I need you to do an interrogation.”

  Cae nods. The blonde girl beside the chief is staring at his gloved hands quite openly.

  “This is Angelica Lane,” the chief continues. “She’s new to us, Prison Liaison Officer.”

  Angelica snaps her vision back up to Caecilius’s eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, detective,” she says, holding out her hand for him to shake. She snatches another glance at the gloves, and there’s something disturbing in her glassy eyes when she meets his again.

&n
bsp; “Miss Lane.” Cae shakes her hand as briefly as possible. He looks back to Jobe, but he can feel her, still watching him so keenly. “An interrogation?” He asks.

  “Redd Richmond is back with us,” says the chief.

  Cae groans loudly. “And why do I get the pleasure of speaking to him?” He asks.

  Jobe claps Cae on the shoulder with the paternal authority that only an older man can get away with. “Because your name came out of the hat,” he explains.

  “The hat?” Asks Angelica. Cae looks back to her as she raises her brow at the chief.

  “Mr Richmond’s what you might call a repeat customer, Miss Lane,” Jobe explains, “Not one we officers particularly enjoy dealing with.”

  It’s true. Redd Richmond, in the eyes of the station, is small-time criminal always looking for an easy life. A little thievery here, some extortion there, a bit of identity fraud in the middle just for kicks. He’d write the instruction manual on opportunistic crime, but only if it paid well.

  “Miss Lane will take you to see him,” Jobe continues. “By the time you’re done there, the lab should have the skinny on the human torch you picked up at the promenade.”

  With something to look forward to, at least, Cae holds back another sigh of contempt. “Smashing,” he replies.

  He looks to the little blonde, who is already turning to make her way to the interrogation rooms. Her heels click on the tiles. Cae follows in silence for a while until they reach the elevator, where Angelica gets in first and turns to face him as he too boards the metal box.

  “It’s Floor Eight, isn’t it?” She asks him. He nods, and the button is pressed.

  “How long have you been in the prison service, Miss Lane?” Cae asks. It isn’t out of politeness. Cae is sure that there’s something off about the girl, and he doesn’t have long to work out what it is.

  “Not long,” she replies. “I was a custodial counsellor up until recently, but this pays better.”

  The elevator pings open at the eighth floor. They step out into a much less friendly corridor.

  “You enjoy working with criminals, I take it?” Cae asks.

  “I suppose you could say that,” Angelica replies. She flashes a perfectly white smile at him, and they arrive at the door of Room Six, where Redd Richmond is waiting for them.

  4.

  “Good morning Mr Richmond,” says Cae, sitting down at the table opposite an all-too-familiar face.

  Redd Richmond is perhaps the only man is existence who actually suits his prison orange overalls. He has olive skin and green eyes that flicker everywhere at once under his smooth, greying hair, which is always manicured carefully into a charismatic wave. He is charming and subtle, and about as rewarding to interrogate as a brick wall.

  Redd grins at Caecilius. “Rex!” He cries happily. “It’s been a while young man. How’s the family?”

  Cae’s eyes narrow. “Still dead,” he replies flatly.

  “Ah,” Redd says, though his wide grin doesn’t falter. “Forgot about that. Terribly sorry.”

  He isn’t sorry, and Cae knows it. Richmond has a way of playing people that’s quite unique. He’s especially good at using it to shorten his numerous prison sentences, so much so that it’s been suggested they should simply give up and install a revolving door on his usual cell.

  “So why am I here, Mr Richmond?” Cae asks.

  “Why are any of us here? A tad philosophical for this time of the morning, don’t you think?” Redd answers.

  A soft laugh comes from behind the two men, and Cae is most disturbed to see it coming from Angelica.

  “Answer the nice detective’s question, Redd,” she says with wry smile. He gives her that same sardonic grin.

  “I have some names to give you to help reduce my sentence,” Redd replies. Richmond is hideously unpopular amongst other felons for being a snitch; it’s really a wonder he’s still alive after all the names he’s given.

  “Of course you do,” Cae answers. “Fire away.”

  “Such a bother having to remember them all again,” Redd says in a mocking sigh. “I did compile the list with my last bouncer, but he didn’t show up to deliver me today. He’s missing apparently.” His vision travels past Cae to where Angelica stands watching them. His green eyes glitter all over her, head to toe. “Still,” he adds with a toothy grin, “Can’t complain about the replacement.”

  Cae makes an active attempt to ignore Richmond’s last utterance, and as he does something clicks his mind into action.

  “Missing?” He asks.

  Redd raises a greying eyebrow. “Oh that’s right up your street isn’t it?” He says. “Yes. He was reported missing this morning, and the lovely Angel here took his place.”

  “You’re getting off topic, Redd,” says Angelica from the corner.

  “I know,” he replies salaciously.

  Cae hardly notices the interaction; he is remembering the geography of last night’s crime scene. A prison liaison officer is missing. The spot on the promenade where the body landed isn’t far from the jetty. The local prison is offshore. All officers have to travel there by boat from the same jetty every morning and every night.

  “What’s his name?” Cae suddenly says, cutting into whatever Angelica was about to say next.

  “Charlie,” says Redd, intrigued by the worried expression on the face of the detective.

  “Charles Brooks,” Angelica corrects.

  Cae gets out of his seat slowly. “You’re going to have to excuse me for a moment.”

  5.

  Caecilius Rex has a nasty habit of getting things right. So when he opens the pathology report on the body and finds the name Charles Brooks at the top of the page, he isn’t surprised. He makes a quick phone call to have Angelica Lane and Redd Richmond give some statements about the deceased before they leave again for Dartley Prison, then sets about the paperwork before him.

  As he spreads out the lab’s information with one gloved hand, the other goes for his phone. Cae’s eyes travel over pictures of the scene and the body as his right hand dials the familiar number.

  “Sergeant Nai?”

  “You’re not a sergeant any more, Kendra,” he says.

  “Yeah, but you’d be surprised how many cold-callers that gets rid of,” she answers. “You got a name?”

  “Charles Alexander Brooks,” Cae reads from one of the reports, “Part of the Inmate-Police Relations Team, which gives us a million motives for people wanting to kill him.”

  “So start listing,” Kendra replies.

  As Caecilius is relaying everything he can over the line, the chief steps into his office silently. Damian watches the young detective with a well-disguised awe. The chief wonders if he himself was so diligent, so committed at twenty-five. But then he doesn’t have Cae’s tragic history, or his peculiar desperation to be the first to solve the crime.

  Eventually Cae notices his presence and falls silent on the line.

  “Cae?” Kendra asks at the other end. “What do you mean the liaison team aren’t all that clean? Hello?”

  “I’ll call you back,” Cae replies as the phone leaves his lips.

  He watches Jobe uncertainly, well aware that he has just been caught reading confidential case reports out to an unknown party from the comfort of his office. It isn’t the first rule he’s broken, not by a long shot, but it was a break he had hoped wouldn’t be noticed any time soon.

  “I asked you if you wanted a partner,” the chief says firmly.

  “And I told you I didn’t need one,” Cae replies.

  “No,” Jobe adds immediately, “because clearly you already have one. I suspected as much.” Damian enjoys his power as the chief of police a little too much at times. He sits down at Cae’s desk opposite the pile of evidence. “If this partner of yours already knows everything, we may as well put him on the payroll.”

  Cae watches him carefully for a moment.

  “She doesn’t want paying,” he says plainly.

 
“She?” Jobe asks. “Well at least put her in your report this time as an informant. Just in case this thing turns out to be bigger than we know.”

  Cae raises a dark eyebrow. “You think it will?”

  The chief heaves a sigh out of his wide chest. “Brooks was one of our own. There could be a whole web of scandal waiting to be found on this one. Just be careful where you poke your nose; try not to offend anybody important.”

  Cae nods, and Jobe gets up from the desk again.

  “I won’t detain you any longer, detective,” he says. But as he reaches the door, Damian Jobe turns suddenly. “I forgot what I came in here for. That pretty little replacement for Brooks…”

  The chief struggles for a moment, until Cae fills the gap in his memory.

  “Angelica Lane?”

  “That’s the one. She wants to make a statement about Brooks. To you. In person.”

  “That’s odd,” Cae observes.

  “She was very specific,” Damian adds, silently agreeing with his younger counterpart.

  6.

  “Here we are again, Miss Lane,” Cae says, settling back into the chair he’d frequented not an hour before.

  “I’m not sure I like sitting here,” Angelica replies. She sits much less comfortably in the chair than Redd Richmond had, looking so awkward that it’s hard to believe Redd could ever have lounged so expertly.

  “Then we’ll make it quick,” Cae replies. “You knew the deceased for how long?”

  “Just these last two weeks since I started in liaison,” the blonde replies. She leans forward onto the table, steeping her fingers and tapping them together. “But I noticed something weird about him, and I wanted to tell you straight away. I thought it might get lost if it was transcribed.”

  “What might?”

  “The vibe of the guy,” Angelica continues. “I think he might have been on drugs. But what drugs, I don’t know. Not like anything I’ve ever seen with the inmates.”

  The bottle of LIFT flooded Cae’s mind for a moment. It wasn’t anything he’d ever come across either.

  “Did you see him with any bottles, tablets, powders?” he inquires.

  Angelica shakes her head, a few thin strands of blonde hair falling out of place. She slips them back behind her ear immediately. “It was his behaviour,” she answers. “I’m kind of a freak for behaviour. It says a lot about a person.” Cae is about to force her back onto the subject, until she says “Like you with those gloves.”