Tears of Blood, Ch. 6

Ben and Ray arrived at the police station right at 8:00 as promised, carrying coffee for everyone.

“I didn’t know how everyone takes theirs, so I got a ton of cream, sugars, Sweet N’ Lows, Equals, and stirrers,” Ray said through a beaming smile.

“Sweetie, does you take any thing like a pill for these problems?” Veronda asked.

“I live with this everyday,” Ben answered. “If you ever come to our house for hamburgers you have more choice of toppings than you do at Burger King.”

“I thanks you baby,” she said with a pat to his back, and leaned over near his ear. “Get help,” she added with a laugh.

“So what did y’all find out at the bar last night?” Aubrey asked.

“That I can make a better Jack and Coke than that queen behind the bar,” Ben stated. “And I like my drinks served with a napkin, not attitude.”

Aubrey turned to Ray. “Did he wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“No. We were riding in and listening to the local talk radio station. The topic was the murder we are working on, and a caller suggested getting a profiler.” Ray answered.

All they are is a detective that wants a title making them sound like a damn psychic. They want to go to the site at the time of day the crime took place…who doesn’t? They say they look at the crime through the killer’s eyes…DUH! But what really kills me, is every time you hear their profile of the killer, it is identical; He is killing within his own race, he has problems holding down a job, he has bad relations with women, may have a speech impediment or something else that makes him think he is unattractive. Dammit they are a bigger pain in the ass than a grapefruit size hemorrhoid.”

“I told you he didn’t like them,” Ray said, with a sarcastic look. “But back to last night, nobody had any recollection of knowing Justin Ross, or if they did they weren’t telling. I think we are going to have trouble getting information out of those guys, too.”

“They may have already given it to us,” Ben added.

“Excuse me?” Aubrey asked, while Ray and Veronda looked in question.

“Well if that guy’s johns were solely Citadel students,” Ben paused, “and the Citadel is a military academy, any DNA we find we can identify in his medical records at the school’s infirmary.”

“I never thought of that, but you’re right.” the sergeant admitted.

“Help!” screamed a woman bursting through the front doors. “There is a dead man at my booth!”

The squad followed the manic lady across the street to The Market, a covered outdoor flea market that is on the historical registry, being built as a slave market. When arriving at her section they found a body covered in stripes, which Ben and Ray recognized as scourge marks from assorted whip marks. A driver’s license and a palm size piece of tapestry with a rose on it were stabbed through over his heart.

“Oh my god,” Ray said, pretty loudly.

“Ray, um, we’ve seen marks close to this before, even being administered,” Ben said, close enough that only his partner would hear.

“It’s not that. If yall don’t need me I need to go back to the station. I think the books I was reading yesterday have given me an idea.”

“By all means. Any help is great!” Vaughn said.

Ray hurried across the street and wasted no time when he got inside. “Veronda, which computer in this place has the fastest modem and highest processor?”

Looking like she was in shock, she raised her eyebrows, stuck out her bottom lip, and with her thumb pointed to the system at her left.

He quickly logged into the Internet and been typing and reading screens and printing downloads for two hours before he realized it. “When did y’all get back?” he asked his partner.

“About thirty minutes after you did,” Vaughn answered. “I didn’t say anything. Ben told me that whenever you are reading or on the computer that you are in another world. Have you ever noticed that when you type it sounds like the nails of rats running across a tile floor?”

“No, but thanks for that visual. We need to all sit a big table. I have some stuff here that will tie this all together.”

Lieutenant Wilcox motioned to a table behind him and the all four of them eagerly took a seat. “Let me guess,” Lanier began, “the last name on the ID is Keller, right?” The entire table looked stunned, and nodded in agreement. “On April 3, 1768, a woman charged a man with torture by means of being whipped with branches, leather whips, cat-o-nine-tails, riding crops, and other items. The significance of the ID and the tapestry is that her name was Rose Keller. In 1814 on December 2 the man she accused of the heinous crime died. His request was, and I quote, ‘Once the pit is filled, it will be sown over with acorns, so that in the future the ground of the said pit will again be overgrown, and the corpse will once again be wooded as it had been before…’.

“Well that explains the Birthright Street case,” Aubrey smiled, “go on.”

“The accused, and author of the quote, was named Donatien Alphonse Francois de Sade, better known as the Marquis de Sade. Remember the body we found at The Battery? Everyone calls the shirt with the missing logo an Izod, but that company makes other items. If you look in the label, it is called a La Coste, which happens to be the name of a villa owned by de Sade And as far as what was found in the guy’s rectum, the Marquis’ wife brought him hand-blown dildoes while he was imprisoned in an insane asylum called Charenton. Finally, as far as the victim that was turned into a eunuch and then had some searing poker create a new hole? That is straight out of de Sade’s mind. In his book, 120 Days of Sodom, the eunuch was strangled, but the rope he was hanged with kills in the same manner.”

“Very good!” Ben said, with the proudest grin he had ever shown in ‘straight’ public. “I’ll never fuss about you reading so much again! But how can we use this to help us catch our killer?”

“Today is July 13, and the 14th is Bastille Day. Sade was imprisoned in the Bastille during the revolution and was taken out of the prison during the night, on the eve of the jail being stormed. France’s Bastille Day is something like our Fourth of July, but only bigger. I noticed a sign at the bar the last night about a Bastille Day costume ball that is being held on the 14th. I’m sure the killer will be in attendance tomorrow night.”

“I think you are right about this guy carrying out the crimes in the guise of the Marquis de Sade, but if he is, and he is at a costume ball, how will we know who he is when we don’t have a physical description of him?” Sergeant Vaughn asked.

“I don’t know. I’m a reader/researcher. Yall pick it up from here,” Ray laughed. “But, if we had the name of the anonymous informant that Ben and I talked with at the bar, we could ask him some questions.”