Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 09 (Patreon)

Something felt off, and it wasn’t the clerk on the other end of the call. Although Marlot was beginning to think the Revenue Bureau purposely placed the most annoyingly calm people in that position.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the female said, calmly. “I can’t give you what you want, because it’s impossible for the lost card to have been sent to anyone other than the owner.”

“I know that,” Marlot replied, unable to mask his annoyance anymore. “Each time I called to let you know it happened, whoever answers tell me the same thing while I held that card I can’t have received and read out the information on it. But this time, I need you to look in your system and tell me who the people whose cards I can’t have received were.”

“Shouldn’t you know?” She asked. “If you were the one who called in to complain?”

“It’s been happening for months now. There should be six in total, according to the previous person I talked to within your department. I have the last two names, now I need the other ones.”

“And I wish I could help you.” How could she be this calm and jovial about this? “But I can’t ask the system for what lost cards that came in were sent to the wrong person because—”

“It doesn’t happen. I know.” He could feel the growl forming and swallowed it. “Look, you don’t need to ask the system anything. Pull up my account; I’m an RI, so I’m in your records. There’s going to be a log for each call and notes attached to them.” If the idiot bothered writing them down. “The name of the people involved will be in those notes, because I know I gave them.”

“Is this a joke? A prank just because I’m the newest person here?” she was beginning to lose that calm tone. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled by a hand over the microphone, but she was loud enough he still heard her. “This isn’t funny! We’re supposed to be working, not wasting time with whatever this is.”

“Is this going to be easier if your supervisor deals with this?”

“What? No, of course not. There’s no need to involve her in this.” She sounded worried for someone who a second ago called this a prank.

“Good, then how about you look through my previous calls?”

After typing, and apologizing for dismissing him outright, and an attempt at explaining how she couldn’t have known he was serious, she gave him seven names. How had he called so often and not have it registered with him or the people at the Bureau?

The oldest was over six months old. He tried to remember what he’d been doing that would have distracted him so much. All he could think of was Trembor. He was quite the distraction. The smile died as the pain of him not being here hit. He looked at the empty desk and sighed.

Nine lost cards that had been sent to him by mistake. He thanks her and ignored the follow-up message about his opinion of the call. He should have left something positive, with her being new, but he didn’t feel it. Today wasn’t a day when someone else’s fledgling productivity rating mattered.

He hadn’t gotten their ID numbers, that she hadn’t been willing to give him, so he had to track down those himself. With nothing more than a name, it would have been impossible, but he also had an address, which he obtained from pulling the information on his GPS and matching them to the names, so it only stretched late into the night.

The next day, as soon as he’d cleared his work-related tasks, he went back to confirming his suspicions. He hadn’t thought about it when Arlant had turned out to be dead, death happened every day, that he happened to be holding his lost card only looked improbably if you ignored the volume of death that occurred each day.

And Trembor had been present.

But Laidan also had a body whose lost card had passed through Marlot’s hands. Two of them still fell into the realm of the possible, if somewhat less so, but it had made Marlot uncomfortable. Entering the ID number for a third lost card he’d received, he found out they were also dead. Getting the time of death simply required him to log into the medical database. His RI status gave him access to that much information at least. Two days after his visit.

Three death whose IDs he’d held.

By lunchtime, he’d confirmed all of them were dead, each one killed and left to rot within days of Marlot returning the lost card, and with the time between return and death going shorter with each one, five days for the oldest, until the card owner had died hour—minutes?—before he returned it.

There was only one conclusion Marlot could draw from this. The city had another hunter, and for some reason, they’d involved Marlot.

He’d entered the Revenue Bureau number on his pad reflexively before he caught himself. If he told the RB, they’d put every Registered Investigator on this; it’s what they’d done with Ruxul. The hunter had been smart and killed each one in a different territory, so no one noticed the pattern. Even Marlot had missed it, and he’d been involved in this by the hunter since the start, or close to it.

Why had the hunter handed him an invitation in the form of the lost cards? For the hunter to want Marlot to be part of it, they had to have interacted, somehow. Was this mocking him? Showing he could kill even when Marlot knew about it? Would that mean Marlot had dismissed them when they met? Did the hunter consider this personal? If so, what would their reaction be if he brought in the other RIs? Anger? Would he leave for another city and put more people at risk?

He shook himself. What the hunter might or might not want didn’t matter here. The Bureau needed to be informed they had one in the city. And with every RI pulled into this, it would be the perfect excuse to work with Trembor again.

He smiled at the memory of their first meeting; during Ruxul’s spree in the city. Trembor had been so strong, confident, handsome. And he’d been the only one willing to work with the shy stranger from some unknown town who’d barged into their territories following the hunter.

They’d work together again and catch this one.

The angry glare Trembor gave him as he ordered him off his territory mixed with the cold one as he walked away without explanation, as if it was Marlot’s fault.

Had it been?

Had His not following the law in the search for Na’ego’s killer been that much of an affront to Trembor’s sense of right and wrong? Marlot believed justice trumped the law, but…

If Marlot caught this hunter, brought them to justice the right way. It would show Trembor he could do it. He could follow the law and get justice done. But first, he needed to do one thing. He replaced the RB number on his pad with one he needed to look up from the RI registry.

“RI Swiftkill speaking,” she said.

“Laidan, It’s Marlot. I have some information for you.”

“You remembered why you visited my body’s house?”

“I was returning their ID. I received it by mistake.”

“You received someone else’s ID?” she asked, incredulous. “By mistake?”

“The system must have glitched processing the lost card. I let them know it happened.”

“I thought the system was foolproof,” she said. “Does that happen often?”

“Nothing’s foolproof,” Marlot replied, trying for casually disinterested. “It’s the only time for me, you’d have to as the Bureau if it’s happened other time. I doubt it.” At least here he could count on the clerks telling her what they told him. It never happened. Because now, he thought they were right. He needed to keep her from realizing there were other bodies out there with a connection to hers. That no one else had come asking to know what he’d been doing near their body meant he was the only one who knew. He wanted to keep it that way. It was also why he’d called. To keep her from scenting his lie.

She sighed. “So, just a coincidence.” He cursed. “And now I’m back looking for a killer’s who’s probably moved on.”

“That’s why we love this job,” he replied.

“I should have followed my dad’s advice and become an accountant. Guaranteed rating, he loved to say. Everyone needs an accountant, but I just loved the chase too much.” He paused and ruffled papers. “Thanks for getting back to me at least.”

“If anything else comes back, I’ll let you know.”

He disconnected and looked at the information on his screen. He needed to find the pattern. Hunters always had one, it was part of their psychology; they didn’t kill to feed their body, but to feed some other part of themselves. He didn’t remember what the researchers said it was. He’d have to reread what had been published on hunters. It had been too long since Ruxul, and he hadn’t seen a point in refreshing his memory after that. It wasn’t like he’d ever expect4ed to come across another hunter in his lifetime.

So what was his pattern? Predators? He confirmed that each kill had been a predator. Was it that simple? Ruxul had gone after people he felt wronged him; from a perceived slight to actual arguments. If this one simply went after predators, why so few kills? Predators were everywhere. Did they not need to kill as often, or was another factor involved? Maybe they’d stolen prey from the hunter? Marlot might be able to check if that was the case. Unless the hunter didn’t contest the kill and just took revenge.

But then why involve Marlot? They had to have met. He couldn’t believe the hunter would target a stranger, even for something like this. But why warn him of his plans, that was what the lost card had to be about. Why warn anyone? Ruxul hadn’t, but he was only one hunter. How many other cases were there? He didn’t remember coming across any mention of warning in the research he’d read. But he hadn’t read everything out there.

Another thing hunters had was a methodology. Something about the process they needed to do. Ruxul had posed his bodies. As what, no one had figured out, but he hadn’t left them where he’d killed them.

The simplest one to check, in his case, was method of death. Had they been killed in the same way? Marlot was halfway through the medical database’s firewalls when he realized it wouldn’t be as simple as he’d thought. Not if he wanted to do this legally.

He sat back. Without access to his primary skill, that of getting into just about any database he wanted, this would be a lot more complicated.

Laidan’s body had a broken neck, and no blood spilled, she’d mentioned that. He didn’t recall seeing blood around Trembor’s body, or any indication the neck had been broken, but he’d been paying attention to the lion.

He called Jaxca.

“Marlot, how can I help you?” the red frog said, smiling as his face appeared on the screen.

“I…” Marlot hesitated. Did this qualify as breaking the law? It was just a conversation, and he wasn’t going to coerce Jaxca into revealing anything. “I’m wondering if you can help me with something.”

“Of course.”

“Trembor called you about a body two days ago.”

“A coyote, yes.” He consulted something. “A Mister Shines.”

“How did he die?” Marlot asked, trying to sound casual.

“Are you and Trembor working together again?” Jaxca asked, looking interested. “He didn’t mention anything about that when I saw him.”

Marlot sighed. “No, I’m just trying to help him.” Not a lie, he told himself. Ultimately this was to get back together, and that was helping the lion. “Did he tell you about the falling out we had?”

“No more than you did. I know it happened, but I know better than to pry. Too much of it can cause a predator to forget I’m poisonous until after they’ve eaten me.”

“I won’t eat you, Jaxca, but I appreciate you not prying. I’m hoping that if I help him with this, he’ll be willing to sit and talk. I want to fix this.”

“Well, you know I’m not supposed to share information between RIs.”

“I understand. Don’t worry about not being comfortable doing it.”

“Just make sure you don’t slip and mention I told you.” Mister Shines died of a broken neck.”

“Snapped?”

“No, the result of a blow. By the shape of the bruising, a strike to the back of the neck, a fist if the most likely cause; it broke the third and fourth cervical vertebrae.”

“What kind of force does it take to do that?” Marlot had never broken a neck with a punch. He grabbed and twisted.

“A reasonable amount, but it’s more about precision than strength.”

“So if the killer knows what they're doing, a healthy bobcat could do it? One hit and they’ve killed?”

“A little smaller than a bobcat could accomplish it if they worked out and as you said, know what they were doing. In this case, they might not have. Mister Shines as enough bruising he was in an extended fight.”

Marlot recalled the mess in the room. “Any blood under his claws?”

“No, his killer was adept at not getting slashed.”

Marlot nodded. That would lean toward training, and potentially smaller than a bobcat gave him too many scents to work from. “What do you make of trying to avoid the spilling of blood?” Marlot asked.

Jaxca fixed his gaze on him. “That they don’t want to waste any of their meal?” he said coldly.

Marlot winced. “Right, sorry, I guess that’s a tad insensitive.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just something that us, who are looked onto as prey live with.”

Marlot’s stomach rumbled and Jaxca stared at him. “It’s the talk of meals and prey.”

“Then I’m glad this is a screen and not you in person.”

“I told you, Jaxca, I wouldn’t eat you.”

“Yes, but I have assistants who aren’t poisonous.”

Marlot tilted an ear. “Do you have one who’d underperforming?” he asked with a grin. Maybe he could score an easy meal today.

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