Dulce et Decorum (continued)
folder
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,239
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Lord of the Rings Movies › General › Lord of the Ring Stars
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,239
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings.
Dulce et Decorum (continued)
Continuation of my story Dulce et Decorum. First two chapters --> http://www.adult-fanfiction.org/aff/story.php?no=544216204.
Title: Dulce et Decorum (3/?)
Author: laeglass
Rating: NC-17 overall for language, violence and sexual content
Pairing: VM/OB
Warning(s): violence, language, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sexual kinks (S&M)
Disclaimer: It’s all made-up lies. No monies made.
Beta by tularia.
Chapter Three
Tuesday
8:25 am
DCI Mortensen hurried up the stairs and glanced at his watch. He was already late. His lips thinned into a grim line as he thought how he couldn’t actually afford to be late; Noble wasn’t overly fond of him as it was. Besides, punctuality was common courtesy and nothing Viggo hadn’t got accustomed to during his years at the Yard. This morning it couldn’t be helped, though. His morning with a nice cup of tea and the morning’s newspaper had been ruined by the headlines on the cover. “McKellen swears St. James killers will be found.”
The DCI had hastily skimmed through the article and cursed when he’d seen that McKellen had blabbered a whole lot of the case, mentioning him and Bean by name. Viggo had always had a lot of respect for his superior but that didn’t stop him from ringing McKellen and telling him exactly what he thought about talking to the press at this point of investigations. It had been far from a pleasant conversation, and at the end the Assistant Commissioner had pulled rank and promptly told the DCI to shut up and deal.
Viggo was still seething. He had very briefly even considered telling McKellen to find another man for the job because he was done, but then he remembered the shaking boy from the previous night to whom he had promised to find Jude’s killer and he had bit his tongue. And here he was at the morgue, ready to attend the post-mortem.
He changed his street clothes into the scrubs offered by the morgue and walked along the long corridor toward the autopsy room. The door was closed and he had to knock to be allowed in. Boyd, the diener opened the door and waved off the DCI’s mumbled apology about arriving late.
“Come on in then,” he said quietly and closed the door behind Viggo.
Noble, the pathologist, and the DCI exchanged a polite nod, but Viggo could see the other man’s eyes flicker to the clock on the wall and raise a mocking eyebrow before he turned back to the table. Viggo noticed that the body on the table was already undressed. On a small table next to it there were several instruments, glinting in the bright lights; a Stryker saw, scalpels, surgical scissors, a few bone saws and calipers. The DCI’s stomach made a queasy, slow roll at the sight of them and he had to swallow. Noble’s voice was surprisingly soothing and calm as he started to speak to the recorder he held in his hand.
“The body is that a well-developed and well nourished Caucasian male, stated to be 23 years of age. The body weighs 144 pounds and measures 71 inches from crown to sole. The hair on the scalp is blond and wavy. The irises appear blue-grey with the pupils fixed and dilated,” he spoke slowly and clearly into the recorder. “Both upper and lower teeth are natural; there are no injuries on the gums, cheeks, or lips. Also there are no tattoos, deformities, old surgical scars or amputations.”
The DCI wrapped his arms around his body against the chillness of the room. The foggy, damp autumn morning outside had him still shivering; that’s what Viggo told himself when he watched the almost-white, battered body on the table. Twenty-three. God almighty, twenty-three. He could see that the boy’s hands were lying next to his prone body, palms turned upwards, and there were cutting wounds on both palms. Viggo had to blink when he thought that the boy had tried to defend himself against the attacker, but with his slight build he hadn’t been a physical match to his armed opponent. He raised his eyes from the table, preferring to observe the room instead. Why did he always have to insist on attending these events?
The PM table was in the center of the room under bright lights; there was a lot of space around it for manoeuvring trolleys and loading and transferring bodies onto the table from them. At the other side of the big room was a wide door that Viggo knew led to body handling area and the body store. The dissection bench at the other end had several containers of various sizes on it, the contents of which the DCI didn’t want to even begin to guess. Steel and tile glinted. He was brought back from his short reverie as Noble spoke again.
“The clothes of the decedent were examined both before and after removal; the decedent was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a leather jacket, both of which were extensively bloodstained on the front. He was also wearing a pair of blue jeans, also bloodstained, as well as a pair of leather boots and two socks.”
He went on to describe some slices in the clothes but the DCI’s mind started to wander again despite his best intentions. He couldn’t help thinking that the lifeless body on the table, about to get slashed with a sharp scalpel, could have been Orlando. The boy’s profession was a risky one. He didn’t realise someone had knocked on the door until Boyd moved. A woman spoke softly with Boyd and then nodded at the DCI. Viggo walked closer to hear what she had to say.
“DCI Mortensen? A call from the Yard,” the woman said quietly.
“What is it?” The DCI felt a stab of guilt at the relief he felt.
“It’s DS Bean. He said you’re needed at the Yard right now.”
* * *
The DCI angrily whipped out his cell phone from his coat pocket and speed-dialled the DS. As soon as Bean answered Viggo barked an annoyed question of what the hell was Bean thinking ringing the morgue and demanding that he leave before the post-mortem had properly even started.
“Calm down, Viggo,” Bean said and coughed. “Me and Monaghan are leaving to Csokas Ltd., and here’s someone sitting in your office who wants to talk to you.”
“And you cannot talk to this person why?” the DCI demanded, donning his coat and running his fingers through his hair before he pushed the door open and exited the changing room.
“Because he won’t talk to anyone but you,” the DS countered and coughed again before clearing his throat. “And me and Dominic are in a hurry anyway, he was late this morning too.” This was clearly said to reproach and Viggo guessed that the DC was listening. Then another coughing fit hit.
“You’re coming down with something,” Viggo remarked, frowning. Sean sounded like shit. “So who’s this mystery guy?” he asked, thinking that perhaps the article on the morning’s newspaper had brought forth an eye-witness or something equally important. “Did they give their name?”
Sean grunted into the phone. “Just a little flu, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s the boy from yesterday, what’s his name. That Bloom kid.”
* * *
New Scotland Yard headquarters
8:50 am
The DCI had hoped that the previous night’s ill-advised attraction had magically vanished during the night, but he was proved wrong when he entered the room and found himself looking into an enchanting pair of brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” the boy offered from where he was sitting on a chair across Viggo’s desk. “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble, but I just needed to talk with you. I hope it’s okay I came here.”
“Of course,” the DCI recovered as he shrugged off his coat. “Do you want coffee? I can make a decent cup,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of his own private coffee maker.
Orlando perked up at the mention of hot beverage. “Great, thanks,” he said almost shyly and took of his knitted cap and mittens. “Bloody cold out there, eh?” he remarked, rubbing his hands together. Viggo did his best not to notice the becoming pink tint on his smooth cheeks and the silky looking curls that had bounced free from under the cap. “I’ve a class this morning but I wanted to drop by first. I thought about what you said last night, mister. I… wasn’t exactly telling you everything.”
“I gathered,” the DCI said as he measured the coffee into the coffee filter and then switched it on. “So you’re willing to talk now? What changed your mind?”
Orlando took something from his pocket and Viggo recognised it as the piece of paper in which he’d written his phone number. “This,” Orlando said quietly. “And the things you said to me last night. I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, but I did some thinking last night and decided that I’m going to try. I haven’t had all that nice experiences with coppers before so…” His voice trailed off.
“I don’t care what you get up to with men in your free time and in your own apartment nonetheless,” the DCI said calmly. “Right now all I am interested in is catching the killer. If you can offer any information that could help I’ll be grateful. But why don’t you start at the beginning? You look like you have lots to tell.”
Orlando inhaled deeply. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I really should start at the beginning. That would be when Jude and I first met, two years ago.”
* * *
Csokas Ltd.
9:05 am
“We have an appointment with Mr. Csokas,” the DS said to the secretary. She was a beautiful blue-eyed brunette, and Sean couldn’t help his eyes dropping downwards as she leaned forward. Liv said her nametag that was pinned on the label of her blouse. Bean nodded in satisfaction. Dominic had said he had talked with a girl named Liv when he had called the day before.
“You’re from the police?” she queried sweetly, pushing an errant curl behind her ear. “Let me check if he is available. One moment please.”
Bean turned to look at Monaghan and snorted softly when he saw that the younger man was staring at the beautiful young woman behind the table rather unabashedly. “Staring at pretty ladies is for off-hours, Monaghan,” he remarked quietly and grinned as the DC blushed.
“You are Mr. Csokas’ secretary,” Monaghan said to Liv who put down the receiver and told them to please wait five minutes. “Did Elijah Wood work here as well?” he asked, looking around. There were other desks also, two across Liv’s and one beside hers. “There are many of you.”
“I’m his personal secretary so I manage his schedules and all that,” the young woman said proudly. “And yes, Elijah… did work here. That’s his desk,” she said and nodded at the one that was beside hers. There was a cabinet between the two desks. “He dealt with import stuff, that’s a huge workload. Mia there does all departmental work, and Lisa deals with staff issues, human resources.” She leaned forward again. “We’re all really sorry to hear about Elijah. He was really well liked around here.”
“Have you worked for Mr. Csokas long?” Bean asked and nodded as Liv said this was her third year. “Have you liked it here?”
“Mr. Csokas is a wonderful boss,” she said warmly. “The best. It’s that PA of his we don’t always get along with,” she added with a softer voice. Her phone rang once and Liv startled. “Okay, you can go in now.”
* * *
New Scotland Yard
Orlando gladly accepted the cup Viggo handed him and gracefully took a little sip. “Great,” he said with a little sigh. “So, I met Jude when I started working at this escort company, Sweetest Sins.” He snorted a bit. “I know, corny as all hell. Jude’d been working there a few years before I came. We became friends, as you do.”
“Two years ago,” the DCI repeated. “How old were you then?”
Orlando’s dimples appeared. “I wasn’t underage at that point; I was eighteen. So that makes me now twenty,” he said softly and smiled into his cup as he saw the DCI swallow. “So anyway, he became my best friend and a big brother figure, so to speak. He took me under his wing, told me how to be with customers, who are arseholes and who are nice, and what I should say and wear and do.” He saw Viggo raising a questioning eyebrow and he hurried to elaborate.
“Not sex. It wasn’t expected of us to have sex with the clients, honest. Just to offer some company and conversation and stuff. Of course, if one wanted to get closer to a client that wasn’t frowned upon, but we didn’t have to if we didn’t want to. I didn’t, mostly.”
“Did Jude?”
Orlando nodded. “He did. A lot. About six months later he said he wanted to start a business of his own. He figured, why let others get a share of what he earned; if he did the same thing alone he’d earn much more. Jude wanted me to leave the agency, too.”
“Why was that?”
“He said that I was the prettiest and would make the best high-class whore,” Orlando said bluntly. “Have to hand it to him, he was right.” He took another mouthful of coffee and savoured the slightly bitter flavour. The DCI watched him swallow the mouthful. “So, he said, he’d get us a really nice place where we can meet the guys. All I needed to do is pay a part of the rent and do my thing; he’d take care of the rest.”
“How could you afford that place?” the DCI asked and poured himself another cup. “How could he come up with such a fancy apartment?”
Orlando shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea, man. I never asked. I paid two thousand quid a month and he paid the rest.” Viggo sputtered into his coffee at the amount of money Orlando so casually mentioned. “When I said high-class I meant high-class,” the boy said, clearly amused, brown eyes twinkling. “I’m not cheap, and Jude was downright fucking expensive.”
“How much exactly do you charge?” Viggo asked, plainly horrified. Orlando was really beautiful and attractive, but to think he made that kind of sums on prostitution…
“Five hundred an hour,” Orlando said. “And my terms, not theirs. Jude was maybe… I would say eight or nine. But enough of the price, yeah? So where was I… Yeah, I left the agency too once he told more of what he had in mind, and we moved in together. I wasn’t sure how we were going to get all those clients Jude spoke of, but he said he’s stolen the client data from the Sins. I was sure Harry was going to get us killed for stealing his clients.”
“Harry? Is that the owner?” Viggo asked. He was quickly making notes of everything the boy said.
Orlando nodded. “Yeah. Harry Sinclair owns the agency with his partner. He was furious when he found out what Jude and I were doing. We got more calls than anyone else, and then we turned our backs on him. I…” he swallowed and put down his cup. “When you said Jude was found dead I instantly thought of Harry. He’d definitely have a reason to seek revenge on Jude. And me.”
* * *
Csokas Ltd.
Bean had expected luxurious surroundings after the lavishly decorated room they had just exited, but nothing had prepared him for the expensive Oriental rugs and delicate Asian rosewood furniture that made for the office’s decoration. A man stood up from his chair behind the massive wooden desk and came to stand before him. The handshake was firm and brief.
“The Yard,” Csokas said and cracked a smile. “I haven’t had dealings with you before. I wish this hadn’t happened either.”
Monaghan saw another man standing by the window, his back turned toward the room. He was tall, dark-haired and well-built; all muscles and broad shoulders. “Excuse me, mister,” he said and nodded as the other man turned around to look at him. “We would like to speak with Mr. Csokas in private.”
“I don’t mind Eric being here,” Csokas softly objected when the tall man made a move to leave. “This is Eric Bana, my personal assistant and right hand. I have no secrets from Eric. He knows everything about the company anyway.”
Bean cleared his throat. “As you wish.” He also looked at the dark, tall man and decided there was something imposing about him. Right now he was looking at the officers with a rigid posture and rather open hostility. Csokas looked at his PA very meaningfully and then turned back to Bean.
“Please, take a seat. Would you like any refreshments? I’m certain Liv would love to cater to your wishes.” There was a smug little smile on his lips that said I know you ogled my pretty secretary out there, didn’t you? Bean shook his head with a rather forced smile and declined politely. Monaghan didn’t want anything either.
Monaghan was busy looking at the paintings on the walls and the collection of jewellery boxes inside a locked cabinet made of glass. “These must have cost a big penny,” he said with no small amount of awe in his voice. “Are those diamonds real?”
“Yes, they are real. I like beautiful things,” Csokas said. “I like to surround myself with beauty; I care little about the cost. But can we please get down to business. As much I enjoy talking about my valuables I’m rather busy these days.”
The corners of Bana’s mouth had tightened during the little exchange.
“So, what can you tell about Elijah Wood?” asked Bean. “How long has he been employed, for starters?”
“Eric, check,” Csokas said, still softly. Bana gave him a look before walking to the computer and clicking a few times, and typing something, presumably passwords. “Of course we have everything about our personnel on the database.”
”Of course,” Bean, who was almost completely computer-illiterate, said, keeping his eyes fixed on Mr. Csokas’ PA.
“Six months,” Bana said, raising his dark eyes to Bean’s. “Five days short.”
“I would’ve let him go soon anyway,” Csokas said, playing with a pencil he picked up from his desk. “He was a drug addict and a thief.”
* * *
New Scotland Yard
“There’ll be people coming to your place later today,” the DCI said almost apologetically. “We’re sorry about the inconvenience but it needs to be done. They’ll probably look to your kitchen and bathroom too.”
“It’s okay. Anything to catch the bastard who did this,” the boy said with a slight smile playing on his lips. “Just… I think I should warn you beforehand. I’m sure you’ll find some pretty weird stuff.” He cringed.
“Such as?”
”Jude had a… specialty, you could say. He couldn’t have charged what he did otherwise,” Orlando said and his dimples made a re-appearance. “He cross-dressed. And he specialized in S&M so there should be lots of that stuff too. Just so you won’t be surprised.” He made a show of glancing at his wrist watch and smiled. “But I really must get going now, my class starts in twenty minutes.”
“Orlando?” The youth looked up from the mittens he was pulling on. The DCI used the boy’s first name for the first time in their conversation and he looked at the older man curiously. “Do you have a specialty?”
Orlando gave an alluring glimpse of his pearly-whites. “I play jail-bait,” he winked before he took his knitted cap and headed out of the office with a teasing sway on his steps.
* * *
New Scotland Yard
11:03 pm
“Is it odd that I personally hate everyone involved in this case?” Bean asked as he popped a few Lemsip capsules into his mouth and reached for his cup of tea.
Viggo snorted. “Even the pretty secretary?” he asked and held his hands up placatingly as Sean threw a glare his way. “Monaghan said she was a beauty. Nothing wrong with noticing that.”
Bean shrugged, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice when he spoke. “Could well start looking for the next former Mrs. Bean; it’s not like Abi is likely to stick around much longer.”
Viggo winced. “So it’s that bad?” He had danced in Sean and Abigail’s wedding; it felt strange to think that their marriage had come to an end. Bean just nodded.
“Isn’t much use talking about it, though. So what did the boy have to say? Was he more talkative than yesterday?” Bean asked, sitting down and leaning back.
The DCI pulled on his ear as he wondered what he could tell Sean about his appointment with the beautiful boy. “He did,” he finally offered. “He talked a good deal about how he and Jude met. He said some guy, Harry Sinclair,” he checked the name from his notes, “has a good reason to hold grudges against Jude. Apparently Jude stole the clients when he left the escort agency Sinclair owns, and took Orlando with him.”
“So they have an escort history,” the DS mused. “Probably worth checking out?” he looked questioningly at Viggo who nodded.
“Will be checked,” the DCI confirmed. “What about Csokas?”
Bean rolled his eyes. “Don’t even ask. His personal assistant, this Bana guy was present the whole time. I have no idea why. Csokas dodged every single question I asked that had something to do with his company. He did say something interesting, though.”
“What?”
Bean leaned his elbows on his knees. “Listen to this. According to him Elijah was addicted to drugs, and stole from the company. Csokas said they were already planning on sacking him; they had gathered plenty of evidence against him.”
The DCI straightened in his own chair. “Did he elaborate or give any of that evidence to you?”
Bean’s smile was dark and grim. “No. Said they destroyed everything when they learned of his death. Thought they wouldn’t need the info anymore.”
“Fuck,” was Viggo’s heartfelt opinion, in which Sean’s response was a quiet ditto.
* * *
Forensic Services
12:30 pm
“We have the clothes,” Dave confirmed. “You ever heard of the Locard exchange principle?” Without waiting for Viggo’s answer he continued. “Every contact leaves a trace. Whenever there’s contact between two items, there will be an exchange." He smiled confidently as he looked at the clothes in front of him on the table. “That means that the killer both left something and took something with him. We’re of course now looking for the first.”
“Of course, it’s clear that there’s been a struggle between the victim and the assailant. That means there will be particles, hair and things like that on these clothes that belong to the murderer,” Blanchett said, coming to stand beside the two men. “Hi Viggo.”
“Hi Cate,” the DCI greeted. “And you will find everything there’s to be found, right?”
“Of course,” Dave almost pouted. “We’ve been given the pep talk too, by McKellen himself. I swear we won’t sleep until we’ve analyzed everything down to the last single particle of dust.”
“These are Wood’s jeans. There was some white substance in the left pocket,” Cate said. “We haven’t yet analyzed it but it looks like some kind of a drug.” She looked at the clothes in the clear plastic bags. “These are a lot tidier than the other boy’s clothes. I doubt we’ll find as much in these; we think that the killer was not in bodily contact with the victim; after all, he was struck from behind. The poor boy probably dropped from first hit.”
“You’re saying ‘he’,” the DCI remarked. “Couldn’t it have been a woman?”
“Not unless she was really strong. All of the injuries were such that a physically weak person could not have caused them,” Wenham said. “But of course the post mortem report will tell you more.”
“What would we do without you,” the DCI said and almost clapped Wenham’s shoulder before remembering the no-touching rule of the Forensics Department. “You will keep me updated?”
“Go already,” Cate said and smiled. “We will.”
* * *
8:53 pm
Soon after leaving the Forensics Viggo had been called to report to McKellen, and they had butted heads, again. The Assistant Commissioner had made it perfectly clear that he expected everyone, including the DCI to start working together and change their rather hostile attitude toward press. ”We need to present a united front to the public,” the man had said. “I won’t have you criticize every single decision I make, least of all publicly. Do I make myself clear?”
Yes, Viggo had said. You have made yourself perfectly clear.
A bigger surprise came later when he was already home. His cell phone beeped to inform that someone had sent him an SMS.
MEET ME IN THE FRONT OF MY HOME BUILDIGN. THERES SOMETHING YUO NEED 2 SEE. 15 MINUTES OK? OB
And there he was, sitting in the car parked on the side of the road, waiting for the boy to arrive. It was cold in the car but he didn’t put the heater on; he wasn’t going to stay long anyway. Truth to be told he wasn’t even sure why he was here. Finally the familiar figure of the slender boy ascended the stairs and came to stand beside his car. Viggo sighed deeply before unlocking the passenger door.
He looked at the boy rather suspiciously when Orlando climbed into the front seat. “Do you mind explaining what this is about?” he asked gruffly. Orlando was rather unfazed by this unwelcoming attitude.
“I have something for you,” the youth said. “But I want something in return.”
DCI Mortensen raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “Bartering? Fine; what do you have and what do you want?” He felt he could indulge the boy a little; besides, the twinkling look on the boy’s eyes piqued his interest.
“Let’s start with what I want,” Orlando said silkily, twisting on the seat to face the older man. “It feels odd that I’ve spoken to you so much about my life, really personal things and I don’t know anything about you. So, after spending the morning answering your questions, I want to ask you three of my own.”
“You want to know about me?” Heat flared through Viggo at what Orlando was saying. “Why?”
“Just because. So tell me your first name. DCI Mortensen is quite a mouthful,” he said with a wink.
“Viggo.”
“Okay. How old are you Viggo?”
“Thirty-eight.”
A delighted grin lit Orlando’s face. “You look younger. Are you married?”
“No, I’m not. And that’s your three questions. What do you have for me?”
Orlando leaned forward and for one mad second Viggo thought Orlando was going to kiss him, but he only took something from the back pocket of his jeans. It was a journal.
”This is Jude’s. I know you told me yesterday not to take anything from his room after you left but I just had to get this. I looked it through but there wasn’t much stuff. Just some random scribblings here and there, but maybe you can figure them out,” Orlando explained and thrust the journal into Viggo’s hands.
“Thank you,” the DCI said politely, ignoring the light brush of Orlando’s fingertips against his own.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” the boy suddenly said. “He was so full of life, and he had so many plans for the future. I can’t believe it was just the day before yesterday that he was blabbering away of this rich fella of his, who wanted to take him to the countryside for the weekend.”
“Wait,” Viggo said sharply. “Was he seeing someone?”
Orlando nodded. “Yeah. Some rich guy. Well of course all his clients were rich but this wasn’t just a client. Jude said the man was totally in love with him. I think he loved him back; Jude never talked about guys before so I gathered he was something special. And no,” he said as he saw that the older man was about to ask a question, “I don’t know his name. Or how he looks. Sorry,” he choked as tears filled his dark eyes. “I’ve tried to be strong but he was my best friend…”
Viggo watched helplessly as the beautiful boy started to cry and without any conscious thought he pulled the sobbing youth into a comforting embrace, patting his slender back rather awkwardly. “It will get better, I promise,” he soothed, and when lips moist with tears sought his it was a rather tiny step to take.
Orlando’s nose was cold and his cheeks were wet and his mouth was scorching hot against Viggo’s, and the DCI let out a muffled grunt when the boy pushed his tongue past his lips into his mouth.
“No,” he gasped and pulled away. “Orlando, no. This is not a good idea.”
“Don’t deny me,” the boy demanded, trying to get closer. “Have you any idea how long it’s been since I kissed someone just because I wanted to?”
“No,” Viggo said honestly. “But this can’t happen, and I couldn’t afford you anyway.”
Orlando’s face shut down completely. “No, you couldn’t,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll be on my way then. Ta,” he said and opened the door. With one graceful move he was out of the car and hurried up the stairs, disappearing inside the building.
DCI Mortensen told himself this was for the best as he started his car, but the nagging feeling that he had made a mistake wouldn’t leave him alone.
TBC in Chapter Four
Title: Dulce et Decorum (3/?)
Author: laeglass
Rating: NC-17 overall for language, violence and sexual content
Pairing: VM/OB
Warning(s): violence, language, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sexual kinks (S&M)
Disclaimer: It’s all made-up lies. No monies made.
Beta by tularia.
Chapter Three
Tuesday
8:25 am
DCI Mortensen hurried up the stairs and glanced at his watch. He was already late. His lips thinned into a grim line as he thought how he couldn’t actually afford to be late; Noble wasn’t overly fond of him as it was. Besides, punctuality was common courtesy and nothing Viggo hadn’t got accustomed to during his years at the Yard. This morning it couldn’t be helped, though. His morning with a nice cup of tea and the morning’s newspaper had been ruined by the headlines on the cover. “McKellen swears St. James killers will be found.”
The DCI had hastily skimmed through the article and cursed when he’d seen that McKellen had blabbered a whole lot of the case, mentioning him and Bean by name. Viggo had always had a lot of respect for his superior but that didn’t stop him from ringing McKellen and telling him exactly what he thought about talking to the press at this point of investigations. It had been far from a pleasant conversation, and at the end the Assistant Commissioner had pulled rank and promptly told the DCI to shut up and deal.
Viggo was still seething. He had very briefly even considered telling McKellen to find another man for the job because he was done, but then he remembered the shaking boy from the previous night to whom he had promised to find Jude’s killer and he had bit his tongue. And here he was at the morgue, ready to attend the post-mortem.
He changed his street clothes into the scrubs offered by the morgue and walked along the long corridor toward the autopsy room. The door was closed and he had to knock to be allowed in. Boyd, the diener opened the door and waved off the DCI’s mumbled apology about arriving late.
“Come on in then,” he said quietly and closed the door behind Viggo.
Noble, the pathologist, and the DCI exchanged a polite nod, but Viggo could see the other man’s eyes flicker to the clock on the wall and raise a mocking eyebrow before he turned back to the table. Viggo noticed that the body on the table was already undressed. On a small table next to it there were several instruments, glinting in the bright lights; a Stryker saw, scalpels, surgical scissors, a few bone saws and calipers. The DCI’s stomach made a queasy, slow roll at the sight of them and he had to swallow. Noble’s voice was surprisingly soothing and calm as he started to speak to the recorder he held in his hand.
“The body is that a well-developed and well nourished Caucasian male, stated to be 23 years of age. The body weighs 144 pounds and measures 71 inches from crown to sole. The hair on the scalp is blond and wavy. The irises appear blue-grey with the pupils fixed and dilated,” he spoke slowly and clearly into the recorder. “Both upper and lower teeth are natural; there are no injuries on the gums, cheeks, or lips. Also there are no tattoos, deformities, old surgical scars or amputations.”
The DCI wrapped his arms around his body against the chillness of the room. The foggy, damp autumn morning outside had him still shivering; that’s what Viggo told himself when he watched the almost-white, battered body on the table. Twenty-three. God almighty, twenty-three. He could see that the boy’s hands were lying next to his prone body, palms turned upwards, and there were cutting wounds on both palms. Viggo had to blink when he thought that the boy had tried to defend himself against the attacker, but with his slight build he hadn’t been a physical match to his armed opponent. He raised his eyes from the table, preferring to observe the room instead. Why did he always have to insist on attending these events?
The PM table was in the center of the room under bright lights; there was a lot of space around it for manoeuvring trolleys and loading and transferring bodies onto the table from them. At the other side of the big room was a wide door that Viggo knew led to body handling area and the body store. The dissection bench at the other end had several containers of various sizes on it, the contents of which the DCI didn’t want to even begin to guess. Steel and tile glinted. He was brought back from his short reverie as Noble spoke again.
“The clothes of the decedent were examined both before and after removal; the decedent was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a leather jacket, both of which were extensively bloodstained on the front. He was also wearing a pair of blue jeans, also bloodstained, as well as a pair of leather boots and two socks.”
He went on to describe some slices in the clothes but the DCI’s mind started to wander again despite his best intentions. He couldn’t help thinking that the lifeless body on the table, about to get slashed with a sharp scalpel, could have been Orlando. The boy’s profession was a risky one. He didn’t realise someone had knocked on the door until Boyd moved. A woman spoke softly with Boyd and then nodded at the DCI. Viggo walked closer to hear what she had to say.
“DCI Mortensen? A call from the Yard,” the woman said quietly.
“What is it?” The DCI felt a stab of guilt at the relief he felt.
“It’s DS Bean. He said you’re needed at the Yard right now.”
The DCI angrily whipped out his cell phone from his coat pocket and speed-dialled the DS. As soon as Bean answered Viggo barked an annoyed question of what the hell was Bean thinking ringing the morgue and demanding that he leave before the post-mortem had properly even started.
“Calm down, Viggo,” Bean said and coughed. “Me and Monaghan are leaving to Csokas Ltd., and here’s someone sitting in your office who wants to talk to you.”
“And you cannot talk to this person why?” the DCI demanded, donning his coat and running his fingers through his hair before he pushed the door open and exited the changing room.
“Because he won’t talk to anyone but you,” the DS countered and coughed again before clearing his throat. “And me and Dominic are in a hurry anyway, he was late this morning too.” This was clearly said to reproach and Viggo guessed that the DC was listening. Then another coughing fit hit.
“You’re coming down with something,” Viggo remarked, frowning. Sean sounded like shit. “So who’s this mystery guy?” he asked, thinking that perhaps the article on the morning’s newspaper had brought forth an eye-witness or something equally important. “Did they give their name?”
Sean grunted into the phone. “Just a little flu, I’m fine,” he said. “It’s the boy from yesterday, what’s his name. That Bloom kid.”
New Scotland Yard headquarters
8:50 am
The DCI had hoped that the previous night’s ill-advised attraction had magically vanished during the night, but he was proved wrong when he entered the room and found himself looking into an enchanting pair of brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” the boy offered from where he was sitting on a chair across Viggo’s desk. “I really didn’t want to cause any trouble, but I just needed to talk with you. I hope it’s okay I came here.”
“Of course,” the DCI recovered as he shrugged off his coat. “Do you want coffee? I can make a decent cup,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of his own private coffee maker.
Orlando perked up at the mention of hot beverage. “Great, thanks,” he said almost shyly and took of his knitted cap and mittens. “Bloody cold out there, eh?” he remarked, rubbing his hands together. Viggo did his best not to notice the becoming pink tint on his smooth cheeks and the silky looking curls that had bounced free from under the cap. “I’ve a class this morning but I wanted to drop by first. I thought about what you said last night, mister. I… wasn’t exactly telling you everything.”
“I gathered,” the DCI said as he measured the coffee into the coffee filter and then switched it on. “So you’re willing to talk now? What changed your mind?”
Orlando took something from his pocket and Viggo recognised it as the piece of paper in which he’d written his phone number. “This,” Orlando said quietly. “And the things you said to me last night. I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, but I did some thinking last night and decided that I’m going to try. I haven’t had all that nice experiences with coppers before so…” His voice trailed off.
“I don’t care what you get up to with men in your free time and in your own apartment nonetheless,” the DCI said calmly. “Right now all I am interested in is catching the killer. If you can offer any information that could help I’ll be grateful. But why don’t you start at the beginning? You look like you have lots to tell.”
Orlando inhaled deeply. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I really should start at the beginning. That would be when Jude and I first met, two years ago.”
Csokas Ltd.
9:05 am
“We have an appointment with Mr. Csokas,” the DS said to the secretary. She was a beautiful blue-eyed brunette, and Sean couldn’t help his eyes dropping downwards as she leaned forward. Liv said her nametag that was pinned on the label of her blouse. Bean nodded in satisfaction. Dominic had said he had talked with a girl named Liv when he had called the day before.
“You’re from the police?” she queried sweetly, pushing an errant curl behind her ear. “Let me check if he is available. One moment please.”
Bean turned to look at Monaghan and snorted softly when he saw that the younger man was staring at the beautiful young woman behind the table rather unabashedly. “Staring at pretty ladies is for off-hours, Monaghan,” he remarked quietly and grinned as the DC blushed.
“You are Mr. Csokas’ secretary,” Monaghan said to Liv who put down the receiver and told them to please wait five minutes. “Did Elijah Wood work here as well?” he asked, looking around. There were other desks also, two across Liv’s and one beside hers. “There are many of you.”
“I’m his personal secretary so I manage his schedules and all that,” the young woman said proudly. “And yes, Elijah… did work here. That’s his desk,” she said and nodded at the one that was beside hers. There was a cabinet between the two desks. “He dealt with import stuff, that’s a huge workload. Mia there does all departmental work, and Lisa deals with staff issues, human resources.” She leaned forward again. “We’re all really sorry to hear about Elijah. He was really well liked around here.”
“Have you worked for Mr. Csokas long?” Bean asked and nodded as Liv said this was her third year. “Have you liked it here?”
“Mr. Csokas is a wonderful boss,” she said warmly. “The best. It’s that PA of his we don’t always get along with,” she added with a softer voice. Her phone rang once and Liv startled. “Okay, you can go in now.”
New Scotland Yard
Orlando gladly accepted the cup Viggo handed him and gracefully took a little sip. “Great,” he said with a little sigh. “So, I met Jude when I started working at this escort company, Sweetest Sins.” He snorted a bit. “I know, corny as all hell. Jude’d been working there a few years before I came. We became friends, as you do.”
“Two years ago,” the DCI repeated. “How old were you then?”
Orlando’s dimples appeared. “I wasn’t underage at that point; I was eighteen. So that makes me now twenty,” he said softly and smiled into his cup as he saw the DCI swallow. “So anyway, he became my best friend and a big brother figure, so to speak. He took me under his wing, told me how to be with customers, who are arseholes and who are nice, and what I should say and wear and do.” He saw Viggo raising a questioning eyebrow and he hurried to elaborate.
“Not sex. It wasn’t expected of us to have sex with the clients, honest. Just to offer some company and conversation and stuff. Of course, if one wanted to get closer to a client that wasn’t frowned upon, but we didn’t have to if we didn’t want to. I didn’t, mostly.”
“Did Jude?”
Orlando nodded. “He did. A lot. About six months later he said he wanted to start a business of his own. He figured, why let others get a share of what he earned; if he did the same thing alone he’d earn much more. Jude wanted me to leave the agency, too.”
“Why was that?”
“He said that I was the prettiest and would make the best high-class whore,” Orlando said bluntly. “Have to hand it to him, he was right.” He took another mouthful of coffee and savoured the slightly bitter flavour. The DCI watched him swallow the mouthful. “So, he said, he’d get us a really nice place where we can meet the guys. All I needed to do is pay a part of the rent and do my thing; he’d take care of the rest.”
“How could you afford that place?” the DCI asked and poured himself another cup. “How could he come up with such a fancy apartment?”
Orlando shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea, man. I never asked. I paid two thousand quid a month and he paid the rest.” Viggo sputtered into his coffee at the amount of money Orlando so casually mentioned. “When I said high-class I meant high-class,” the boy said, clearly amused, brown eyes twinkling. “I’m not cheap, and Jude was downright fucking expensive.”
“How much exactly do you charge?” Viggo asked, plainly horrified. Orlando was really beautiful and attractive, but to think he made that kind of sums on prostitution…
“Five hundred an hour,” Orlando said. “And my terms, not theirs. Jude was maybe… I would say eight or nine. But enough of the price, yeah? So where was I… Yeah, I left the agency too once he told more of what he had in mind, and we moved in together. I wasn’t sure how we were going to get all those clients Jude spoke of, but he said he’s stolen the client data from the Sins. I was sure Harry was going to get us killed for stealing his clients.”
“Harry? Is that the owner?” Viggo asked. He was quickly making notes of everything the boy said.
Orlando nodded. “Yeah. Harry Sinclair owns the agency with his partner. He was furious when he found out what Jude and I were doing. We got more calls than anyone else, and then we turned our backs on him. I…” he swallowed and put down his cup. “When you said Jude was found dead I instantly thought of Harry. He’d definitely have a reason to seek revenge on Jude. And me.”
Csokas Ltd.
Bean had expected luxurious surroundings after the lavishly decorated room they had just exited, but nothing had prepared him for the expensive Oriental rugs and delicate Asian rosewood furniture that made for the office’s decoration. A man stood up from his chair behind the massive wooden desk and came to stand before him. The handshake was firm and brief.
“The Yard,” Csokas said and cracked a smile. “I haven’t had dealings with you before. I wish this hadn’t happened either.”
Monaghan saw another man standing by the window, his back turned toward the room. He was tall, dark-haired and well-built; all muscles and broad shoulders. “Excuse me, mister,” he said and nodded as the other man turned around to look at him. “We would like to speak with Mr. Csokas in private.”
“I don’t mind Eric being here,” Csokas softly objected when the tall man made a move to leave. “This is Eric Bana, my personal assistant and right hand. I have no secrets from Eric. He knows everything about the company anyway.”
Bean cleared his throat. “As you wish.” He also looked at the dark, tall man and decided there was something imposing about him. Right now he was looking at the officers with a rigid posture and rather open hostility. Csokas looked at his PA very meaningfully and then turned back to Bean.
“Please, take a seat. Would you like any refreshments? I’m certain Liv would love to cater to your wishes.” There was a smug little smile on his lips that said I know you ogled my pretty secretary out there, didn’t you? Bean shook his head with a rather forced smile and declined politely. Monaghan didn’t want anything either.
Monaghan was busy looking at the paintings on the walls and the collection of jewellery boxes inside a locked cabinet made of glass. “These must have cost a big penny,” he said with no small amount of awe in his voice. “Are those diamonds real?”
“Yes, they are real. I like beautiful things,” Csokas said. “I like to surround myself with beauty; I care little about the cost. But can we please get down to business. As much I enjoy talking about my valuables I’m rather busy these days.”
The corners of Bana’s mouth had tightened during the little exchange.
“So, what can you tell about Elijah Wood?” asked Bean. “How long has he been employed, for starters?”
“Eric, check,” Csokas said, still softly. Bana gave him a look before walking to the computer and clicking a few times, and typing something, presumably passwords. “Of course we have everything about our personnel on the database.”
”Of course,” Bean, who was almost completely computer-illiterate, said, keeping his eyes fixed on Mr. Csokas’ PA.
“Six months,” Bana said, raising his dark eyes to Bean’s. “Five days short.”
“I would’ve let him go soon anyway,” Csokas said, playing with a pencil he picked up from his desk. “He was a drug addict and a thief.”
New Scotland Yard
“There’ll be people coming to your place later today,” the DCI said almost apologetically. “We’re sorry about the inconvenience but it needs to be done. They’ll probably look to your kitchen and bathroom too.”
“It’s okay. Anything to catch the bastard who did this,” the boy said with a slight smile playing on his lips. “Just… I think I should warn you beforehand. I’m sure you’ll find some pretty weird stuff.” He cringed.
“Such as?”
”Jude had a… specialty, you could say. He couldn’t have charged what he did otherwise,” Orlando said and his dimples made a re-appearance. “He cross-dressed. And he specialized in S&M so there should be lots of that stuff too. Just so you won’t be surprised.” He made a show of glancing at his wrist watch and smiled. “But I really must get going now, my class starts in twenty minutes.”
“Orlando?” The youth looked up from the mittens he was pulling on. The DCI used the boy’s first name for the first time in their conversation and he looked at the older man curiously. “Do you have a specialty?”
Orlando gave an alluring glimpse of his pearly-whites. “I play jail-bait,” he winked before he took his knitted cap and headed out of the office with a teasing sway on his steps.
New Scotland Yard
11:03 pm
“Is it odd that I personally hate everyone involved in this case?” Bean asked as he popped a few Lemsip capsules into his mouth and reached for his cup of tea.
Viggo snorted. “Even the pretty secretary?” he asked and held his hands up placatingly as Sean threw a glare his way. “Monaghan said she was a beauty. Nothing wrong with noticing that.”
Bean shrugged, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice when he spoke. “Could well start looking for the next former Mrs. Bean; it’s not like Abi is likely to stick around much longer.”
Viggo winced. “So it’s that bad?” He had danced in Sean and Abigail’s wedding; it felt strange to think that their marriage had come to an end. Bean just nodded.
“Isn’t much use talking about it, though. So what did the boy have to say? Was he more talkative than yesterday?” Bean asked, sitting down and leaning back.
The DCI pulled on his ear as he wondered what he could tell Sean about his appointment with the beautiful boy. “He did,” he finally offered. “He talked a good deal about how he and Jude met. He said some guy, Harry Sinclair,” he checked the name from his notes, “has a good reason to hold grudges against Jude. Apparently Jude stole the clients when he left the escort agency Sinclair owns, and took Orlando with him.”
“So they have an escort history,” the DS mused. “Probably worth checking out?” he looked questioningly at Viggo who nodded.
“Will be checked,” the DCI confirmed. “What about Csokas?”
Bean rolled his eyes. “Don’t even ask. His personal assistant, this Bana guy was present the whole time. I have no idea why. Csokas dodged every single question I asked that had something to do with his company. He did say something interesting, though.”
“What?”
Bean leaned his elbows on his knees. “Listen to this. According to him Elijah was addicted to drugs, and stole from the company. Csokas said they were already planning on sacking him; they had gathered plenty of evidence against him.”
The DCI straightened in his own chair. “Did he elaborate or give any of that evidence to you?”
Bean’s smile was dark and grim. “No. Said they destroyed everything when they learned of his death. Thought they wouldn’t need the info anymore.”
“Fuck,” was Viggo’s heartfelt opinion, in which Sean’s response was a quiet ditto.
Forensic Services
12:30 pm
“We have the clothes,” Dave confirmed. “You ever heard of the Locard exchange principle?” Without waiting for Viggo’s answer he continued. “Every contact leaves a trace. Whenever there’s contact between two items, there will be an exchange." He smiled confidently as he looked at the clothes in front of him on the table. “That means that the killer both left something and took something with him. We’re of course now looking for the first.”
“Of course, it’s clear that there’s been a struggle between the victim and the assailant. That means there will be particles, hair and things like that on these clothes that belong to the murderer,” Blanchett said, coming to stand beside the two men. “Hi Viggo.”
“Hi Cate,” the DCI greeted. “And you will find everything there’s to be found, right?”
“Of course,” Dave almost pouted. “We’ve been given the pep talk too, by McKellen himself. I swear we won’t sleep until we’ve analyzed everything down to the last single particle of dust.”
“These are Wood’s jeans. There was some white substance in the left pocket,” Cate said. “We haven’t yet analyzed it but it looks like some kind of a drug.” She looked at the clothes in the clear plastic bags. “These are a lot tidier than the other boy’s clothes. I doubt we’ll find as much in these; we think that the killer was not in bodily contact with the victim; after all, he was struck from behind. The poor boy probably dropped from first hit.”
“You’re saying ‘he’,” the DCI remarked. “Couldn’t it have been a woman?”
“Not unless she was really strong. All of the injuries were such that a physically weak person could not have caused them,” Wenham said. “But of course the post mortem report will tell you more.”
“What would we do without you,” the DCI said and almost clapped Wenham’s shoulder before remembering the no-touching rule of the Forensics Department. “You will keep me updated?”
“Go already,” Cate said and smiled. “We will.”
8:53 pm
Soon after leaving the Forensics Viggo had been called to report to McKellen, and they had butted heads, again. The Assistant Commissioner had made it perfectly clear that he expected everyone, including the DCI to start working together and change their rather hostile attitude toward press. ”We need to present a united front to the public,” the man had said. “I won’t have you criticize every single decision I make, least of all publicly. Do I make myself clear?”
Yes, Viggo had said. You have made yourself perfectly clear.
A bigger surprise came later when he was already home. His cell phone beeped to inform that someone had sent him an SMS.
MEET ME IN THE FRONT OF MY HOME BUILDIGN. THERES SOMETHING YUO NEED 2 SEE. 15 MINUTES OK? OB
And there he was, sitting in the car parked on the side of the road, waiting for the boy to arrive. It was cold in the car but he didn’t put the heater on; he wasn’t going to stay long anyway. Truth to be told he wasn’t even sure why he was here. Finally the familiar figure of the slender boy ascended the stairs and came to stand beside his car. Viggo sighed deeply before unlocking the passenger door.
He looked at the boy rather suspiciously when Orlando climbed into the front seat. “Do you mind explaining what this is about?” he asked gruffly. Orlando was rather unfazed by this unwelcoming attitude.
“I have something for you,” the youth said. “But I want something in return.”
DCI Mortensen raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “Bartering? Fine; what do you have and what do you want?” He felt he could indulge the boy a little; besides, the twinkling look on the boy’s eyes piqued his interest.
“Let’s start with what I want,” Orlando said silkily, twisting on the seat to face the older man. “It feels odd that I’ve spoken to you so much about my life, really personal things and I don’t know anything about you. So, after spending the morning answering your questions, I want to ask you three of my own.”
“You want to know about me?” Heat flared through Viggo at what Orlando was saying. “Why?”
“Just because. So tell me your first name. DCI Mortensen is quite a mouthful,” he said with a wink.
“Viggo.”
“Okay. How old are you Viggo?”
“Thirty-eight.”
A delighted grin lit Orlando’s face. “You look younger. Are you married?”
“No, I’m not. And that’s your three questions. What do you have for me?”
Orlando leaned forward and for one mad second Viggo thought Orlando was going to kiss him, but he only took something from the back pocket of his jeans. It was a journal.
”This is Jude’s. I know you told me yesterday not to take anything from his room after you left but I just had to get this. I looked it through but there wasn’t much stuff. Just some random scribblings here and there, but maybe you can figure them out,” Orlando explained and thrust the journal into Viggo’s hands.
“Thank you,” the DCI said politely, ignoring the light brush of Orlando’s fingertips against his own.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” the boy suddenly said. “He was so full of life, and he had so many plans for the future. I can’t believe it was just the day before yesterday that he was blabbering away of this rich fella of his, who wanted to take him to the countryside for the weekend.”
“Wait,” Viggo said sharply. “Was he seeing someone?”
Orlando nodded. “Yeah. Some rich guy. Well of course all his clients were rich but this wasn’t just a client. Jude said the man was totally in love with him. I think he loved him back; Jude never talked about guys before so I gathered he was something special. And no,” he said as he saw that the older man was about to ask a question, “I don’t know his name. Or how he looks. Sorry,” he choked as tears filled his dark eyes. “I’ve tried to be strong but he was my best friend…”
Viggo watched helplessly as the beautiful boy started to cry and without any conscious thought he pulled the sobbing youth into a comforting embrace, patting his slender back rather awkwardly. “It will get better, I promise,” he soothed, and when lips moist with tears sought his it was a rather tiny step to take.
Orlando’s nose was cold and his cheeks were wet and his mouth was scorching hot against Viggo’s, and the DCI let out a muffled grunt when the boy pushed his tongue past his lips into his mouth.
“No,” he gasped and pulled away. “Orlando, no. This is not a good idea.”
“Don’t deny me,” the boy demanded, trying to get closer. “Have you any idea how long it’s been since I kissed someone just because I wanted to?”
“No,” Viggo said honestly. “But this can’t happen, and I couldn’t afford you anyway.”
Orlando’s face shut down completely. “No, you couldn’t,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll be on my way then. Ta,” he said and opened the door. With one graceful move he was out of the car and hurried up the stairs, disappearing inside the building.
DCI Mortensen told himself this was for the best as he started his car, but the nagging feeling that he had made a mistake wouldn’t leave him alone.
TBC in Chapter Four