Deadman

Solomon stood up. “A murder!?”

The woman nodded.

“There hasn’t been a murder since Pott’s earliest days. The people here would never hurt their fellow deadmen!”

Kit leaned forward and looked at the woman. “Was it a fight that got out of hand? Do we know who the culprit is?”

The white robe shook her head. “No. A body was found in the Western part of town. It’s Miss Lydia.”

I didn’t know who that was, but I saw Mama’s eyes turn downward at the name.

“Lead me to the body,” I said, putting the information into the R.A.S. to open an investigation.

The white robe looked at the Honored Dead.

“Do it,” said Mama, answering her look.

“We can’t let Donovan do that. We still haven’t even voted on whether or not to exile him. Besides, he doesn’t live here with us, he doesn’t remember our ways,” said Jim, Solomon nodding in approval next to him as he spoke.

“Who else could we ask?” offered Julian. “You may not like him, but the system has granted him the Marshall job and he has more experience with murder and death than anyone else here. We could certainly ask Nico, or have some Undertakers take a look, but let’s be honest, this is beyond their expertise.”

Solomon sighed. “Agreed.” He turned his gaze to me. “Who better to catch a killer than another killer after all. You may investigate.”

I returned his gaze. “I wasn’t asking your permission. This is my

jurisdiction.” I turned to the white robe and gestured for her to lead the way. This time, she didn’t look to the Honored Dead for permission.

The woman lead the way back out of the mausoleum and onto the street. I could hear panicked voices and even crying as we wove down the paths between buildings and got closer to where the body had been found. Around it, a massive crowd was gathered, and we were unable to push our way through to the body.

“Everybody clear out!” I yelled, and the group parted to look at me. “Don’t stand around here gawking, just go about your business. I’ll find who did this.”

There were glances at me, looks of concern, and some of fear. A few people looked like they might challenge me, but when we made eye contact they lost their nerve and soon everyone was clearing out of the area. I made my way over to the body. It was in a semi secluded alley between two houses and I turned back toward the white robe when I reached it.

She was staring blankly at the body, clearly in shock. It surprised me for a moment to see that reaction to a single corpse, but in a way it was almost a kind of praise for how good things in Pott’s were. I’d seen the average waster not bat an eye at a pile of the corpses of their nearest and dearest friends. That was just their Thursday.

I went and stood in front of her, blocking her view of the body. “Ma’am, can you go back to the Mausoleum and see if we can borrow a few Undertakers. I want to make sure that this area stays clear of any regular foot traffic.”

She continued staring forward.

“Can you do that for me?” I asked.

She shook her head slightly, clearing a bit of the fog she was in, looked up at me and nodded before she began walking back in the direction of the Mausoleum.

I turned back around and bent down to look at the corpse. The woman had been wearing a light green wrap that was now stained red with blood, chunks of it had been ripped off of her, along with pieces of flesh. Her yellow eyes were open and staring at the sun above us, while her mouth was open, as if she’d been killed mid-scream. I reached over and closed her eyes, then I started looking over the wounds. I felt a surprising bit of relief for a moment. The wounds looked as if they’d been made by a wild animal. Flesh had been taken off in bites, and claw marks were all across the body. I had a moment where I though that rather than a murder, this may have been a case of some creature wandering out of the cut and making it’s way into town somehow.

The relief didn’t last long though. I took a closer look at the bite-wounds and realized something. They looked exactly like the wounds I’d left on the men I’d carved my way through in the bunker. They’d been made by the teeth of a deadman. She’d been killed by a fellow resident of Pott’s.

I heard the sound of several pairs of feet behind me, and looked to see four Undertakers arriving behind me. Three of them I didn’t recognize, but the fourth was Nix, leader of the Undertakers.

I gave my attention to her underlings first. “You three, make sure no one wanders in here. I need to be able to look over the crime scene without any interference. Don’t want people to panic too much either.”

They looked over at Nix, who nodded the affirmative, then they went to do as I asked. Pott’s didn’t really have a police force, but when a fight needed broken up or some beasties wandered into town, it was the Undertakers that took charge of the situation. They were the only group that was trained to fight and there was usually a sizable amount of them in town between trips into the wastes. It made sense to involve them.

Nix went and looked over the body. She had a grim expression on her face, but didn’t show nearly the shock over it that the white robe had. She bent down to look closer. “Looks like it might have been an animal of some kind.”

I shook my head, and started looking through the alley around the body rather than just at the body itself. “That was my first thought, but those bite marks are those of a deadman.”

She looked up at me. “How do you know?”

I looked into her black eyes. “I know.”

She crouched back down to look at the body, and I continued my search around. Eventually I found a pair of bloody handprints on the walls of one of the buildings that formed the alley. They were massive, showing hands easily twice the size of my own, but I couldn't tell if that was the result of smeared blood, or that was their actual size. I looked around the prints and noticed two more, though there was less blood on this print so it almost looked as if the hands had shrunk as they’d reached the next point. I began picking at my teeth. Whoever the killer was, had climbed up the side of the building to make his escape. It made sense, the buildings were all domes so it was possible, if difficult, to scale them. I remember Deux actually breaking his leg climbing halfway up one when we were both at the orphanage.

I approached Nix. “Did you know her?”

She nodded. “Yes. Lydia was picked up by the same Undertaker caravan as me. We haven’t spoken in some time though. Last I talked to her was a month ago.”

“Any enemies?”

Nix looked up at me with a sad smile. “No one has enemies in Pott’s.”

“Other friends then? Maybe some people who would’ve spoken with her more recently?”

Nix nodded. “She mentioned she’d been shacking up with another woman. A white robe named Deliliah? Or maybe Deborah?”

I nodded, taking mental notes. I’d have to go back to the Mausoleum next to see if I could find that woman. I looked at the body. “We should probably have her moved. I don’t think we’ll get any more information from the corpse.”

Nix nodded. “I’ll have someone grab some cloth to wrap her in and we’ll take her to the graves.”

I looked around. “I’ll need to ask around to see if anyone saw another deadman covered in blood. Or anyone with large enough hands that might fit this print. There’s no way an attack like this wouldn’t result in someone getting more than a little blood splatter.”

“I’ll have some of my Undertakers handle it.”

“Thanks”

She shook her head. “A murderer in Pott’s is not something we’re really equipped to handle. The quicker we get this solved, the stabler things stay, and stability at home is what Undertakers need to do their jobs.”

I nodded and left her to it, making my way toward the Mausoleum. It was getting dark, but that didn’t mean much for the people of Pott’s. The murder had happened while it was still light out, when most people were busy working. The murderer had left the scene of the crime over the domes, likely to avoid being seen covered in Lydia’s blood. The murderer was at least moderately clever. The murder itself seemed to be a thing of wild abandon, but once it was done the killer found a smart method of retreat, and he’d managed to keep himself in check long enough to make sure his target was isolated and out of sight before he struck. Motive was what I needed. A crime with such extreme violence was likely done out of passion. I couldn’t even think of another reason for such a thing to happen in Pott’s. Everyone had food, shelter, and a family in their fellow citizens. Sure sometimes work drama would lead to things spinning out of control, but this… this could only have been the result of much more highly elevated feelings than that.