In the dankness of the empty warehouse, the officers gathered. With the long cold smelting machinery looming around them like machines of war and the drip drip drip of some far off leak, their surroundings made their meeting all the more bleak. From the ceiling hung rusting chains and the floor was spotted with rust brown puddles. Gravel crunched under the uneasy feet of the newbies and cigarette smoke fumed from the nostrils of the more grizzled serving men. They’d seen far too many crime scenes to be squeamish now.
DCI Bude was sucking on the last of his own cigarette, when a junior constable trotted over to him and mumbled that the man they had been waiting for had arrived. Bude nodded, rolling his eyes and, flicking his cigarette into a nearby puddle. He turned on his heels and walked towards the large shutter doors which were raised, revealing the cold morning sun and, standing as a silhouette, Dr. Zest.
Bude ran a hand over his thick brush of a moustache before extending it towards Zest as the two came close.
The doctor looked somewhat disapprovingly at the extended hand and, keeping his own hands firmly in the pockets of his long tailcoat said, “What have we got this time, Bude? Is it the same as the others?” He had a deep voice that came from deep within his soul. Graceful, yet menacing, his eyes saw more than most. Everyone knew his real skill lay elsewhere however.
Bude sunk his hand back into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette, refusing to make eye contact with the Dr. as he did so. He flicked a match and lit the gasper before he replied. “Looks like it,” he took a long deep drag, blowing the smoke through pursed lips. “He was found this morning,” Bude said, pointing with the cigarette towards the officers. “Over there.”
Dr. Zest picked up his pace and left Bude to fall behind.
Bude watched as the officers parted, revealing the crumbled body of the young dock worker to Zest.
Bude knew that what the Doctor was now seeing was the same horrific site that had greeted the officers not an hour before, and which the kids from the local estate had stumbled across this morning. They were not going to be OK for a long time, seeing a dead body was bad enough, let alone one with the victim’s throat ripped out.
It was the third victim in as many weeks. Zest had worked on similar cases before and he had always helped them with a conviction, Bude despised the man, but he trusted him, trusted his senses. He gave the Doctor some time to inspect the body, finishing his cigarette and flicking it away again before stepping in line with the other officers.
“What do you reckon then Doc?” Bude asked.
“Well, before you came over and completly masked the smell that I had distinguished with that vile habit of yours, I’d say that we’re looking for the same person as the others.”
“How the bloody hell can he tell that?” Muttered one of the lesser experienced uniformed men, a little too loudly. It wasn’t uncommon for people, civilians and officers a like to be skeptical of Zest’s abilities, until he had seen in work, Bude didn’t believe it himself, but it was a mistake to ever question its existence within the presence of Zest himself. He carried a wicked temper that now raised its head.
“I can tell that, boy, because some of us are more gifted and far more observant than others. If you care to question the skills to which I utilize for the benefit of, primarily, an incompetent police force, not to mention for the greater good of my fellow citizens, I may be so inclined take my services elsewhere.” The young officer shut up after that. “What we are looking for, gentleman, is an orange eater. That is to say, whoever murdered this young man, and the others, and most likely more if you do not get out and bring the cruel soul in, enjoys an orange shortly before committing these atrocious crimes.”
Dr. Zest eyed the crowd, holding the stare of those he knew had little regard to his skills. “Trust me,” he said. “I have a gift,” he continued, tapping the end of his nose.
End of Part 1
Harry Daniel 