Blues, Black Coffee, and Bloody Murder

Esplandia

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Karþied, Esplandia
Saturday Morning
5:58am


Even this early a small crowd had already started to gather. Isuld Arhaldsen blasted his horn, startling a group of rubberneckers. They jumped back at the sound giving him spiteful glares. He blared his car siren but it took a Folkgeraf in uniform to clear the crowd and direct the Inscearwarer to a place to park.

Vith-Inscearwarer Hilden Orberrad met him as he got out of the car, a piping hot cup of coffee in hand.

“Sorry about the crowd,” Hilden said. “They just started showing up in the last fifteen minutes.”

“It’s Lakeside.Nothing ever happens here so they all gotta come out to take a look.” He took the coffee and sipped it. It was black and rich and hot. Just what he needed for such an early morning. “Where’s the body?”

Hilden gestured for him to follow. They walked through the park, the grass still wet with morning dew. They headed towards the lake shore, crossing a paved jogging path and climbed down the rocky slope to a narrow gravel beach between the park and a thicket of reeds and cattails.

Two men waited near the waters edge watching the Crime Scene specialists wade around among the reeds, taking photographs and poking about the scene. Isuld greeted them as he approached.

“They got you out of bed this early, Eadulf?”

Eadulf Walferstan was a scraggly looking old man, his graying beard and hair unkempt. He was the coroner for the ministry and was granted leeway in his appearance due to the nature of his work. “I guess somebody had to ruin my weekend,” he said.

Isuld smiled at him, offering a cigarette. The coroner waved it away.

Turning o the other man, Isuld greeted him as well. “What’ve we got, Berhald?”

Berhald was the opposite of the old coroner. He was clean shaven, his entire appearance neat and perfect, his blue and gray uniform crisp and pressed. “Joggers spotted the woman’s body in the reeds around 4:39 am,” he reported. “A Civil Order Folkgeraf was dispatched to check it out. That’s when they called us in.”

He directed them closer to the reeds. Eadulf stayed back but Hilden and Isuld stepped forward until the water was to the tips of their shoes.

The uniformed Folkgerafs were hip deep in the water documenting everything. Another man dressed in protective gear was preparing the body to be pulled out of the water.

The body, a woman with dark brown hair that Isuld guessed was in her late twenties, floating face up in the water. She was wearing a dark gray suit top and skirt, with a lavender blouse underneath. One of her feet was wearing a black high heeled shoe. The other foot was bare, the other shoe nowhere to be seen.

“Anyone ID her yet?”

Berhald pulled out a plastic evidence bag and passed it over. Inside was a waterlogged wallet. The wallet, a red leather clutch, held a number of credit cards and at least two hundred Crown Florents. So it hadn’t been a robbery.

Her ID was still in its display sleeve. “Ah, fuck.” he said seeing the emblem of the Iraelian government on the ID. “She’s a foreign official.”

“Shimiri Yuval, Secretary of the Iraelian Embassy Cultural Attache. Age 33.” He read the ID out loud, holding it up for Hilden to read as well.

“Initial assessment of the body shows no sign of violence,” Berhaldinformed them. “No cuts, no bruises, and no scrapes.”

If we’re lucky, hopefully this is just an accidental drowning,” Hilden said with a tone that was obvious he didn’t expect it to be an accident.

The body was pulled out of the water and laid out on a black bag.

“What do you think, doc?” Isuld asked turning to Eadulf.

The coroner stepped forward and began examining the body. While he looked Isuld took a camera from one of the Folkgeraf and took pictures of the body until Eadulf stood up.

“Without a full autopsy we won’t know for sure, but I noticed some discoloration on her lips and fingertips. That could indicate asphyxiation, or possibly a number of toxins.”

Isuld took closer pictures of those areas.

“How did you notice that?” Hilden asked. “I can’t even see a difference.”

“I’m old, not blind. At least not yet.”

The body was carefully zipped up into the bag and lifted onto a stretcher at the top of the embankment.

“Alright. We’ll have to speak with the Iraelians and get clearance to perform an autopsy. See if there’s any religious restrictions about that. In the meantime, Eadulf, do what you can once they get her to your office. Anything that looks suspicious I want to know about right away.”

The old man nodded and headed off after the stretcher to ride back with it in the ambulance.

Isuld handed the wallet back to Berhald who gathered it and went to make sure the scene was thoroughly investigated.

“What do you think?” Hilden asked.

“I think we need to retrace her last night. Find out who saw her last. I want to know every move she made and every place she went in the last twenty-four to forty-eighth hours. The embassy is probably the place to stop first after we report back to the Ministry. Let’s go.”

They climbed back up the slope to stand on the jogging path.

“Looks like our day’s getting worse,” Hilden said gesturing towards the police cordon.

Isuld looked and sighed. “The press is already here?” Three news vans had already pulled up and cameras were rolling.

“A body found in Lakeside was bound to draw attention. You want to deal with them?”

“Why? Do you want to talk to the old man?”

Hilden grimaced at the mention of the Minister of Foreign affairs. “I’ll talk to the press. You can deal with him.”

“Tell you the truth,” Isuld mused, “right now I’d rather deal with the old man in one of his moods than call my ex-wife. She’s gonna be fucking livid.”

Hilden raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I’m supposed to have the kid this weekend.”
Black Flies - Ben Howard
 
“You didn’t mention how your conversation with the old man went,” Hilden said as Isuld pulled the car into the parking lot.

“Better than I expected. He promised us any resources we need for this case. Made it top priority.” Isuld put the car into park and checked out the parking lot. It was mostly empty aside from three cars in the far corner.

Hilden chuckled. “You know that’s not a good thing,” he said. “If the old man is being cooperative it’s because he thinks this case will be a shitshow.”

“I’ll take my wins where I can.” He lit up a cigarette and offered one to his partner. Hilden waved it away. “So this is the last place our victim was seen alive?”

It was a nondescript building, new construction in the awful corporate style that had been infecting the city for the last thirty years. There were no windows, only a single entrance; black double doors adorned with gilded runes and silver pull handles. The runes spelled out the places name: Strauhaffen. One of the doors had been left propped open.

“This is where all the dignitaries and witan members meet to blow off steam and mingle?” Hilden scoffed.

“More like get wasted, do coke, and make backroom deals.” He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. “Apparently Miss Yuval was a frequent visitor here. Every night for the last six weeks.”

“How’d she get any work done?” Hilden asked.

Isuld didn’t answer. He opened his door, dropping his cigarette and crushing it as he got out. “Let’s see if any of the staff remember anything,” he said.

Inside the doors the club was dark. Only a few dim lights were on. It took them a minute for their eyes to adjust.

“Sorry we’re closed,” somebody said. Isuld turned to where the voice came from. His eyes had adjusted enough now for him to see a tall skinny man behind the bar. He was busy restocking and looked annoyed at the two men barging in.

“Isuld Arhaldsen, Inscearwere of the Ministry of Civil Order.” He held up his ID and approached the counter. Hilden did the same. “You mind if we ask you a few questions?”

The guy’s face changed from annoyance to nervousness. “What’s this about?”

“You seen this girl around?” He showed him a picture they’d taken from her profile on the Iraelian Foreign Affairs website. “She was seen here the last few nights.”

The guy took the image and gave it a look that lasted a few seconds. He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. But we get lots of people here.”

“Anyone around who might be more likely to recognize her?”

“Maybe one of the waitstaff. But they don’t get here until 6:00pm.”

Isuld nodded, taking back the picture. It was just after three and he didn’t like the idea of waiting around. Maybe they’d head up to Northgate and hit a patisserie, get a coffee and pastry.

“What’s this about?” someone asked.

A short man in a suit had walked up behind them. They hadn’t heard his arrival. He looked a little irritated and was staring down Isuld and Hilden.

“He was asking about a woman, boss” the bartender said. “I was telling them to come back and ask the waitstaff.”

He gave the waiter a dirty look before returning his attention back to the investigators. They introduced them selves again, showing him their IDs. “My names Ornlauf. I’m the owner of this club. I like to think I know everyone that comes through. Maybe you can ask me.”

Isuld handed him the picture. Ornlauf barely glanced at it. “Yeah I’ve seen her here before. An Iraelian girl, if I remember right. What’s this about?”

“Was she here last night?”

The owner made a show of thinking about it. “Might have been. I don’t recollect, but it was a very busy night last night. Something happened to her?”

“She was found dead this morning,” Isuld answered truthfully. “We’re just trying to retrace her steps, see what happened.”

The shock on the owner’s face was not faked. “Shit that’s sad to hear. Was it near here?”

“No, they found her body over in Lakeside. We don’t even know if it was a murder, but finding out what happened between here and there would help our investigation alot.”

“Yeah. I’d like to cooperate as best I can. I can pull security footage for you, see if she left with anybody.”

“That would be helpful,” Isuld answered. “Do you know if she usually came alone, or did she come with anyone?”

“She usually came with other Iraelians from the embassy. Staffers and such. Though more recently she’d been coming in with this guy. A member of the Witangamot, let me see if I can remember his name.” He closed his eyes while tapping his temple. “I’m not remembering unfortunately.”

“Anyone who might know?” Hilden asked.

“Yeah, one of our singers, Bricget. She was pretty friendly with the Iraelian girl, shared drinks with her a couple times. She’s off tonight but I can give you her home address.”

They thanked the owner and told him where to send the security footage. They made their way back to the car. Isuld checked the Address. It was up in Northgate. Maybe he’d get a pastry after all.

Black Sheep - Gin Wigmore
 
“I can’t believe it,” Bricget Sigurdsen sobbed. They’d met with her at her apartment and she’d invited them in once she knew it was about Shimiri Yuval. “I saw her just last night.”

“I’m very sorry,” Isuld said. “You were close?”

“She was a regular. We didn’t hang out outside the club but I’d gotten to know her really well over the last year. What happened?”

“We don’t know yet,” Hilden said. “Right now we’re trying to set up a timeline. Do you know what time she left?”

“I don’t.” Bricget answered, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “My last set ended at eleven, and I went home soon after.”

“Was she there with anyone?” Isuld asked.

“Yeah, she’d been seeing this guy for a while. He’s older, an Esplandian Gamotner*. He was there for a few hours but had to leave early.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Swegn,” she said. “I don’t know his last name. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. That’s probably enough to go on.” He looked to Hilden who was already taking out his phone to search up the name. “Do you know what time he left?”

“It was sometime between eight and nine while I was performing. He was already gone when I stopped by to talk with her. She was upset about something but acting like she was fine.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was acting strange, ordering drinks and trying to get me to join her. She’s usually not so reckless with alcohol. She was trying to get drunk and got mad at me when I told her to take it easy.”

“And she didn’t tell you what was going on?”

“Nah, she got into a conversation with this other guy and ignored me for the rest of the night.”

“And who was this other guy?”

“Don’t know. Some newly elected Gamotner from Alstengeord. Real handsome guy. Been at the club a few times, but I don’t know his name. Always got weird vibes from him.”

“Weird vibes?”

“Yeah, like, he’s charming and sweet. Knows all the right things to say, but there’s nothing behind his eyes. Like it’s all an act but he doesn’t really feel it, ya dig it?”

“I dig it,” Isuld said. But he didn’t really. That’s just how he saw all politicians, all charm and no personality. “And you didn’t see her with anyone else?”

She shook her head no. “Alright if you can give me a physical description…”


“Yeah I’ll pick him up,” Isuld said frustratedly into his phone as they crossed the street to the car. “I’ll be finished on time tonight. No, this isn’t that kind of investigation. It seems to be a drowning is all. I said I’d be there. No. No. I gotta go, bye.”

He hung up the phone and shoved it angrily into his pocket. Hilden gave him a sympathetic look. Isuld just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his ex-wife.

“There are half a dozen Swegn’s in the Witangamot,” Hilden said as they got into the car. “But only three of them are Esplandian. I narrowed it down further. Miss Sigurdsen said he was older. And there’s only one older Swegn.” He held up his phone to show Isuld. A picture of a smiling man in a suit, his hair starting to thin and gray, his face a little pudgy.

“Swegn auf Thregberg,” Isuld read aloud. “Twenty years of service in the Esplandian Landesgraad, and three years in the Federation Witangamot. Twice married, twice divorced. Doesn’t look like a killer.”

“You think our victim was killed?”

“Don’t know, won’t know until we perform an autopsy. I’ll check in with Doctor Walferstan. Hopefully the Iraelians have cleared it by now. We also gotta find this other guy, the Alstengeord Gamotner. He’s new, but that’s not going to help much since most Alnstengeord representatives are new.”

“I’ll start going through the roster, see if anyone matches the description she gave us.”

“I’ll write up a report once we get back.”

“No, I'll do that too,” Hilden said. “You go pick up Sherwin and enjoy your evening with him.”

*Gamotner: member of the Witangamot
 
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The office of the Minister of Civil Order was a mess of clutter. Regnhald Tormandsen had held the office since Kaþarin II had sat on the Esplandian throne and he was not a man to care about things being tidy.

This would be the seventh time Isuld had met directly with the minister, whom everyone affectionately called the Old Man. And he was ancient, already into his eighties. His lips were curled up into a snarl and he worked his jaw as he stared at the inscearware*.

Isuld had been on his way to pick up his son when the Minister had called him into his office. “You’ll report directly to me for the rest of this investigation,” he’d informed Isuld. A foreign dignitary had been found dead so that required the Old Man to take a direct interest. Hilden would make a report to their superiors but as the senior investigator it was Isuld’s job to meet with the minister.

Isuld fave him a quick report on what they’d learned so far, the Old Man sitting and listening quietly. The whole time all Isuld could think was one thing. He needed a smoke. But he’d never dare light up in the minister’s office. The old man was a strict anti smoker and had been known to terminate or demote anyone caught smoking near him.

“The Iraelians have okayed the autopsy,” Tormandsen said. “I want a copy of it the minute doctor Walferstan is finished.”

“Understood,” Isuld replied.

“The Iraelians are eager to assist in this matter so if you need anything from them you’d better ask. I’ve made a personal request for the young woman’s files to be sent over to your office. Personal and family history, medical records, performance reviews. You might find something in there.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m surprised though, that the Iraelians are being so thorough when we don’t have many details yet.”

“We’re operating under the assumption that it was a murder.”

“But we don’t know that yet,” Isuld protested.

The Old Man leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers into a triangle in front of him. “I know right now you’re establishing a timeline and waiting for autopsy and tox reports. However from this moment on I want you to start treating this as a murder investigation.”

“May I ask why?”

The Old Man let out a weary sigh. “Iraelian Intelligence let us know that a request for information on miss Yuval was submitted two days ago.”

“Submitted by who?”

“The Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Part of a follow up on her background check was the reason. I contacted Minister Scarhafen directly and he swears no such request was ever sent from his ministry.”

“And you trust him?” Isuld asked.

“No,” Tormandsen stated bluntly. “But Scarhafen has only been minister for six months and we all know who his predecessor was.”

“The Spider.”

The Old Man nodded, a look of pure disgust on his face. “It’s not coincidence her name came up in an information request right before she’s found dead. You tell me two Gamotners are possibly involved, and we both know the Spider didn’t leave the Ministry of Foreign Affairs without some of his people planted deeply in their operations. This whole thing reeks of counter intelligence bullshit.”

“I’m supposed to be spending the weekend with my kid,” Isuld said.

The Old Man gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry but duty calls.”

“I’m gonna direct my ex-wife to you then,” he said half joking.

Tormandsen nodded. “I don’t need to impress on you the importance of resolving this matter swiftly. Until then I’m going to have the Iraelians breathing down my neck. So I won’t keep you from your work.”

Isuld stood up. “And I’ll keep you in the loop.”

*inscearware: investigator

Let Your Heart Hold Fast - Fort Atlantic
 
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