Byrd Man
El Hombre Pájaro
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Sherlock Holmes
Previously
St. Bartholomew's Hospital
The elevator dings open and John and I walk into the basement morgue.
"Ahh, Barts. Seems to be ages ago that I was here as a bright, young thing. Of course you probably already know I studied here."
"Finished somewhere in the middle of your class. Tell me, am I hot or cold?"
Before John can respond, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the text on my screen.
SH,
Do you get Spanish
TV in England?
Check your local listings
Yours truly is on the "telly"
SS
I sigh and start pounding out a response.
"News from Scotland Yard?"
"No, worse. An imitator.
SS,
Working a case that matters
Leave me alone or I email Lassie
Tell him the truth
P.S.
Look at television crew
Murderer is one of them
SH
I send the message and tuck the phone back into my coat pocket. John and I walk into the morgue where the body of the dead man is laid out. Sergeant Jones managed to find the man's identity out soon after we left Battersea.
Detective Sergeant James Morstan, a fifty-seven year old man, ten years retired from the force with a long and storied career with the Met.
"I might be awhile, looking over the body. Maybe you could find out more about Morstan? His family, partners on the force, who he worked for as a security guard, and especially who he put in jail. A man isn't a copper for twenty-seven years without making a few enemies."
John nods and turns to leave while I put on a pair of latex gloves and begin to examine the body again, this time using a syringe to pull out a blood sample to use for toxicology.
With his clothes off and underneath the harsh white light of the morgue, I see the full extent of Morstan's injuries. His body is bruised all over, lumps and welts forming from his thighs up to his shoulder blades. All of them appear to be premortem. I run my hands up Morstan's side and feel several broken and fractured ribs. He was beaten severely, but not in the face or head.
Why?
"They wanted you conscious, didn't they?" I say aloud to the body. "They either wanted you to feel it to the very end...or.....Yes.....that's it!"
I quickly pull my phone out and type frantically, navigating through the internet to the site I need. I memorize the information and call Sergeant Jones.
"Please tell me you have news."
"Find out about Marston's past with organized crime and gangs. Did he work in any special units or work any investigations."
"Why? What are you thinking?"
"He was beaten for information. Someone or something from his past came back to haunt him. These people had major pull, too. They brought in a specialist from Eastern Europe. The Golem."
"Are you talking about the bloody Lord of the Rings character?"
"What? No. The Golem. You're the police, look it up."
"And he tortured Marston for information about what?"
"That's what we need to find out. We'll find that out as soon as we can find Marston's partners. They're tied into this some kind of way."
I look over at the evidence bags on the adjacent table. Along with Marston's clothes, there's the note that was pinned to his body.
"We only have three more chances to catch our killer."
Crouch End
The cab pulls to the side of the road and I pay the cabbie before hopping out on the sidewalk where John is waiting.
"Have you talked to her yet?"
"Just a bit. I don't think she'll be of much help, Sherlock. She hasn't spoken to her father in years."
"That's what she says."
I enter the house with Watson behind me. A blonde haired woman is waiting for us. John elbows past me and meets the woman in the house's front room.
"Here's my associate. Mary, this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is Mary Morstan."
I look at her, and then John, reading his body language and the way he's wringing his wrist and breathing a little heavier than usual.
"Right," I say with a smirk. "Miss Morstan, do you mind if I use your bathroom?"
"What? I.....I suppose so. Second door on your left."
I nod and walk through the house to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and scan the room for a few seconds before exiting it and heading back into the front room. I take a quick look around, looking at all the pictures hanging up.
"Thank you. I think that's all the questions I have. We'll be in touch. Come on, John."
Both her and Watson give me confused looks.
"But..er..."
"Yes, let's go."
I put my hand on John's shoulder and lead him out of the house.
"Goodbye, I suppose," he says as I shut the door behind him and walk to the edge of the sidewalk to catch a cab.
"The bloody hell was that about?" He asks once he catches up.
"She was telling the truth. She hadn't spoken to her father in years."
"Oh, and you figured that out by having a look around her loo?"
"Don't be ridiculous. What did you see in her front room?"
"Pictures of family. So what?"
"Pictures of her mother. None of her father and none of them together. What do we know about Morstan other than the fact he was a copper? He was divorced. Mary lived her mother and rarely saw her father."
"And what about using the loo?"
"I did that for your sake. The house's decorations had a female touch, but there wasn't a trace that a man lived there. I went into the bathroom and found two toothbrushes. One hadn't been used for at least a week. She was in a relationship that was semi-serious and now she's out of it. So the coast is clear."
John scowls. "Clear for what exactly?"
I look at John and scoff. "Please."
My phone vibrates and I pull it out, reading the text on the screen.
"We need to get across town. There's been another murder."