BLOOD & STONE

A Radazan Mystery

One

It was the brutality of the murder that struck Tomi Cardozo the most. She pulled on leather gloves and, sweeping her coattails away from the splayed entrails, crouched by the mutilated corpse. ‘What have you got so far?’

From the other side of the body, Payana pointed her examining rod at the slash that opened the torso from heart to groin. ‘The murder weapon appears to be a blade, probably a knife or dagger. The way the intestines and organs are protruding makes me think someone reached their hand in---’ she mimicked the action in the air ‘---and yanked. It’s not neat or professional.’

‘No,’ Tomi said. ‘It’s angry.’ She studied the mess of innards. ‘Any organs missing?’

‘Not that I can see, but I’ll know for sure when I do the autopsy.’

Tomi noticed a slight tremor in Payana’s voice and lifted her gaze to her friend. ‘Are you well?’

It wasn’t like Payana to be unsettled by a crime scene. They’d worked messy cases before. Payana never flinched; other medica mavens called her Frost Queen behind her back.

Tomi noticed the way Payana didn’t quite look at the victim’s face. ‘Did you know him?’

‘Of course not.’ Payana scanned the apartment. Tomi turned to see what she was searching for. Sweepers wandered in and out, cloth masks over their nose and mouth to dull the reek as they catalogued items on long sheets of parchment. One was bent over a satchel on the floor with parchment pages spilled out.

‘What’s the matter?’ Tomi said.

‘Nothing.’ Payana pointed her examining rod at the stained rug. Her work voice returned, professional and detached. ‘The blood spatter suggests the victim was already lying on the floor when he was attacked.’

‘Held down?’ Tomi said, swatting flies from her face.

‘There doesn’t seem to be bruising to suggest it, and there isn’t any sign of a struggle.’

‘Huh.’

‘He could’ve been sedated.’ Payana nodded at two goblets and a bottle of rhee sitting on a drum table by one of the leather sofas. ‘We’ll check his

stomach contents.’

The victim’s expression showed no sign of the horror of his death. His eyeglasses were still on, albeit slightly askew. Tomi picked up his hand to inspect his ragged nails. Indents and tan lines on the base of his fingers suggested missing rings. But surely this wasn’t just a robbery. It was too personal, too violent.

Which was why it didn’t make sense for him to have been sedated. Why would the killer have a drink with the victim if they were in a murderous rage?

The sound of retching and a splatter came from the bedroom. Tomi gave Payana a questioning look.

‘The artist,’ Payana said. ‘Finished sketching the body then ran to find the chamber pot.’

‘Ah.’ Tomi hesitated. Something felt… off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Payana was impeccable as always in expensive black pants and a matching waistcoat. There was purple paint on her lips and hints of shimmer-dust on her plump brown cheeks. Her long, dark braid was wrapped and pinned at the back of her head in the same style as Tomi’s. Payana had got up and dressed as usual this morning, suggesting everything was fine at home.

Which meant something about the crime scene was troubling her.

‘Are you sure you’re well?’

‘Of course I am.’ Payana sounded irritated now, but that was nothing unusual. ‘Are you still coming to dinner tonight?’

‘I can’t now.’ Tomi gestured to the body. ‘I just got put on a case.’

‘That doesn’t mean you have to stop eating. Besides, you’ve cancelled on us the last three times, and Mia’s been desperate to tell you -- well, you’ll have to come around to find out.’

Tomi suspected she knew the reason for the persistent invitations, and, despite Payana’s promising tone, Tomi wasn’t sure she was ready to hear what Mia had to say. She doubted she’d ever be ready.

‘You should come,’ Payana said, as if that was the end of it. ‘It’ll be good to take your mind off… you know. Tomorrow.’

It felt like someone had filled Tomi’s stomach with stones.

‘Hey there, Cardozo.’

Sleazy Shadwell started over, his bright blue sweeper uniform reminding Tomi of a species of toxic frog she’d seen once at the menagerie. The colour screamed: WARNING -- DANGEROUS CREATURE.

She wished her ex had been bright blue.

Sleazy Shadwell gave her the once-over as he sauntered towards them, but Payana pointed her bloodied examining rod at him and said, ‘No.’

He held up his hands in surrender, backing away as casual as ever. On his way he passed Damian, who strode through the front door with a scroll under his arm. Damian was fresh off the academy baking tray, a complete cookie. He caught sight of the body and said, ‘Did you know there’s a dead guy on the floor?’

Tomi fought a laugh. ‘The smell didn’t give it away?’

‘No different to the ablution blocks in my atrium.’

Payana gave Tomi a who is this jester? look.

‘Damian, this is my medica maven, Payana Thraseep,’ Tomi said. ‘Payana, my new attending officer, Damian Kamara.’

‘Since when did you get an apprentice?’ Payana said.

‘Since yesterday. Surprise.’

Payana eyed Damian, taking in the kid’s cloud of black curls, wide nose and rich, dark eyes. He gave a hopeful smile when he realised he was being examined.

‘Nope,’ Payana said at last. ‘I don’t approve.’

Damian’s smile widened. ‘You’ll learn to love me.’

‘Payana doesn’t love anyone,’ Tomi said. ‘She only tolerates them.’ She nodded to the parchment under Damian’s arm. ‘Is that the victim’s residential scroll?’

‘Sure is.’ He unrolled the parchment to skim through it. ‘Professor Ivan Jupel. Forty-one. Immigrated here about 20 years ago. No known relatives in the country. They’re all still in Elumina, according to this.’

Tomi stood. She’d done a brief survey of the room as she’d entered, but it was only now she realised what was wrong. ‘That’s peculiar.’

‘What?’ Damian said.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘You tell me.’

He scanned the apartment. The balcony doors were open, but that wasn’t unusual in this season. A pipe sat on the balcony table, next to a box herb garden. Inside the doors was the drum table with the goblets and open bottle. The goblets were mostly full, although their sticky sides meant at least one sip had been taken from each.

‘The victim knew his killer,’ Damian said.

‘Though not well,’ Tomi said, ‘since there’s no offering of smallfruits. That’s essential when entertaining in high society. It says something interesting about their relationship – civil, but not friendly, perhaps.’ She did a slow walk of the room, the heels of her boots clicking on the blackstone floor. ‘But that’s not the peculiar thing I noticed. Think about what’s missing.’

She had Damian’s full attention now. He ignored the stench, stalking the place with a keen eye. It was a single-occupant apartment, like Tomi’s, only much more spacious. It had various plants in decorated pots and a heatherwood study desk. An ornamental box half-full of triller herb sat on an accent table, its lid askew, its potent smell layered beneath the corpse’s. There was a kitchen sink, which marked the professor’s social status more than anything else in the room. Cooking utensils hung from the granite wall. The carving knife gleamed especially bright.

Damian examined the bookshelves lining the walls. They held volumes of various topics and in several languages, as well as delicate trinkets and bronze ewers.

‘There are spaces in the dust here,’ he said. ‘The professor’s been robbed.’

‘Good observation,’ Tomi said, letting her tone suggest there was something else. She didn’t expect the cookie to pick up the intricacies of the job immediately – what would be the point of mentoring him if he already knew everything? Still, she’d hoped for a hint of brilliance. He was supposed to be one of the best cadets in the city.

‘I don’t know---’ he said, turning slowly in his spot, and she found herself surprisingly disappointed ‘---unless you’re talking about the missing blood?’ He shot her a grin, and she realised he’d been baiting her. ‘The killer made a mess with Jupel’s body. There should be blood everywhere. Smears on the door handle. Splatters on the floor. Drops in the sink, assuming the killer would’ve tried to wash themselves afterwards. But the only blood I can see is on the rug.’

Tomi suppressed a smile of her own. ‘Well done.’

‘The killer could’ve mopped afterwards,’ Payana said. She sounded less impressed.

‘No.’ Tomi crouched to run her gloved finger across the stone. It came back streaked with red dust. She held it up for Damian and Payana to see.

‘What is it?’ Damian said.

‘I’m not sure, but I noticed it when I picked up this.’

Damian leaned in to examine the small brass key she held out. ‘Where did you find that?’

‘Here, between the body and the door.’

‘Do you think the killer dropped it? Or was it there before?’

‘I think the killer was holding it during the murder. There’s a splash of blood on it.’

Damian plucked the key from her hand and tucked it in his fist while miming a stabbing. ‘Like this, right? So how would the blood have gotten on it? The key is completely covered.’

‘Except,’ Tomi said, taking the key back and pointing to the loop at the top, ‘it was on a keyring or the ribbon of a pouch. It was dangling out of their hand.’

Damian moved to take the key back from her, but it slipped between them and landed on the ground, tinking noisily. His curls quivered as he swooped to get it. Maybe he was more nervous than he was letting on.

Tomi turned to the sweeper cataloguing the contents of the professor’s work satchel. ‘Get a sample of this dust, would you?’

The sweeper headed over with a pouch of vials and a brush.

‘Anything interesting in the professor’s bag?’ Tomi said.

‘Nothing but a few books and what I think are lecture notes. Can’t read a word of them – the handwriting’s atrocious.’

‘Take them anyway, just in case.’ She handed the sweeper the key. ‘More evidence. There’s blood on it. Bring that carving knife on the kitchen wall to Particulars as well.’

‘You think it’s the murder weapon?’

‘Won’t know until we check it.’

‘Cardozo!’ Sleazy Shadwell strode out from the bedroom. ‘You need to see this.’

From her spot by the corpse, Payana whipped her examining rod towards him and said, ‘If you’re about to make some innuendo, I will cram this so far up your nose it’ll hit your brain.’

‘No,’ Sleazy Shadwell said. Tomi saw the way his nostrils flared and his eyes stretched a little too wide. Her curiosity was piqued. It took a lot to unnerve a sweeper. ‘Just come here.’

She followed him into the bedroom, Damian at her heels. The room was decked out with more shelves and trinkets and several hanging pot plants. The sketch artist was curled in the corner of the bedroom, weakly hugging the chamber pot to his chest as he stared, ashen faced, towards the floor where the bed had been pushed away.

A false stone had been lifted to reveal a cavern of treasures – coloured cloth, jars of oils and dried flowers, pouches of powders and bones, a silver chalice, a ceremonial knife.

‘I think we’ve found ourselves a witch,’ said Sleazy Shadwell, breathless.

‘Ah,’ said Tomi softly. ‘Shit.’

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