order.” Sakura’s face remained expressionless.
Darius smoothed his hair back from his forehead. His widow’s peak make him look like a vampire. “Now there is chaos,” he said.
Sakura nodded.
“The universe is a very nasty place”—Darius moved to a stack of his jazz CDs and began reading titles—“and unpredictable.”
He turned. “Go figure, my partner of three years, a man of infinite taste and judgment, is a lover of heavy metal.”
Sakura ignored the comment. “Three bodies. No connection,” he said.
“They were all gay.”
Sakura shrugged.
“What’s the M.E. giving you?”
“As many questions as answers.”
“The lab boys?”
“Negatives.”
Darius turned back to the CDs. “You would think you’d prefer classical.” He moved a couple of the cases. “So what have you
got, Jimmy?”
“Nude bodies with no sexual assault. Taped, gagged, but no sign of struggle.”
Darius reached for a specific disc. “Willing victims …” He tested the logic of his words. “What about cause of death?”
“Induced heart failure. Injected them with potassium.”
“Why didn’t he just slit their throats?”
“He could have. He had a knife. But he was after something else. It seems he also injected them with LSD.”
Darius looked up. “What’s this guy into?”
Sakura pulled photographs from the folder he’d been holding.
Darius set the CD back in place, reached for the pictures. He looked down. In an instant his face went wide, then closed in
on itself.
“It can all be fixed….” Sakura broke the silence.
Darius glanced up. “What can be fixed?”
“Your coming back. They’ve made it clear I can have anyone I want.”
Darius tossed the photographs onto a table and walked over to a gym that took over most of the space near the windows. He
squattedon the bench, grasping the handles of the horizontal bar, pulling down until it touched his trapezius muscles.
“Hanae says I need you on this case.”
Darius began to pump the bar, controlling the weight, letting his lats do most of the work. “You really ought to get one of
these, Jimmy. Put some muscle on that skinny body of yours.”
“He’s going to kill again.”
Suddenly Darius released the bar with a slam, and for a few moments it swung crazily back and forth like an empty trapeze.
It seemed he’d forgotten that Sakura was even in the room as he looked down at his fingers splayed across the padded seat.
Then he raised his right arm and made his hand into a gun, aimed, and fired.
“Hudson was nothing, Michael.”
Darius slowly lowered his arm. “Nothing is nothing, Sakura. Now get the fuck out of here.”
It was very late, but for the moment the man was enjoying how the moon threw the outline of the long row of windows onto the
hardwood floor. He closed his eyelids and inhaled deeply. His obliques responded, tucking themselves higher inside the wall
of his chest.
His scent was even stronger when he worked out. Rotating his head, he sniffed the damp of an armpit. Then he ran a hand between
his legs, pulling up on the moist fleshy sac of his testicles. Bringing his fingers to his nostrils, he noted that the odor
of his groin was slightly different. The smell of his sex seemed essentially more organic.
He walked away from the windows and moved to a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Behind him, in the moonlight, the massive hulk of
his exercise equipment crouched like an alien beast. Chrome glittered like eyes. He flipped a light switch. The sharp contours
of his body were instantly excited by the cool fluorescence overhead. He saw a skeleton overlaid with taut muscle. Pale, hairless
flesh held the neat assemblage together. It was an attractive, well-disciplined package, this body bag. Except for the scar
that ran from the Vastus lateralis to the Vastus medialis of his right leg, he might have considered himself a perfect specimen.
He flexed his chest, admiring the ladder of muscle that descended
Darius smoothed his hair back from his forehead. His widow’s peak make him look like a vampire. “Now there is chaos,” he said.
Sakura nodded.
“The universe is a very nasty place”—Darius moved to a stack of his jazz CDs and began reading titles—“and unpredictable.”
He turned. “Go figure, my partner of three years, a man of infinite taste and judgment, is a lover of heavy metal.”
Sakura ignored the comment. “Three bodies. No connection,” he said.
“They were all gay.”
Sakura shrugged.
“What’s the M.E. giving you?”
“As many questions as answers.”
“The lab boys?”
“Negatives.”
Darius turned back to the CDs. “You would think you’d prefer classical.” He moved a couple of the cases. “So what have you
got, Jimmy?”
“Nude bodies with no sexual assault. Taped, gagged, but no sign of struggle.”
Darius reached for a specific disc. “Willing victims …” He tested the logic of his words. “What about cause of death?”
“Induced heart failure. Injected them with potassium.”
“Why didn’t he just slit their throats?”
“He could have. He had a knife. But he was after something else. It seems he also injected them with LSD.”
Darius looked up. “What’s this guy into?”
Sakura pulled photographs from the folder he’d been holding.
Darius set the CD back in place, reached for the pictures. He looked down. In an instant his face went wide, then closed in
on itself.
“It can all be fixed….” Sakura broke the silence.
Darius glanced up. “What can be fixed?”
“Your coming back. They’ve made it clear I can have anyone I want.”
Darius tossed the photographs onto a table and walked over to a gym that took over most of the space near the windows. He
squattedon the bench, grasping the handles of the horizontal bar, pulling down until it touched his trapezius muscles.
“Hanae says I need you on this case.”
Darius began to pump the bar, controlling the weight, letting his lats do most of the work. “You really ought to get one of
these, Jimmy. Put some muscle on that skinny body of yours.”
“He’s going to kill again.”
Suddenly Darius released the bar with a slam, and for a few moments it swung crazily back and forth like an empty trapeze.
It seemed he’d forgotten that Sakura was even in the room as he looked down at his fingers splayed across the padded seat.
Then he raised his right arm and made his hand into a gun, aimed, and fired.
“Hudson was nothing, Michael.”
Darius slowly lowered his arm. “Nothing is nothing, Sakura. Now get the fuck out of here.”
It was very late, but for the moment the man was enjoying how the moon threw the outline of the long row of windows onto the
hardwood floor. He closed his eyelids and inhaled deeply. His obliques responded, tucking themselves higher inside the wall
of his chest.
His scent was even stronger when he worked out. Rotating his head, he sniffed the damp of an armpit. Then he ran a hand between
his legs, pulling up on the moist fleshy sac of his testicles. Bringing his fingers to his nostrils, he noted that the odor
of his groin was slightly different. The smell of his sex seemed essentially more organic.
He walked away from the windows and moved to a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Behind him, in the moonlight, the massive hulk of
his exercise equipment crouched like an alien beast. Chrome glittered like eyes. He flipped a light switch. The sharp contours
of his body were instantly excited by the cool fluorescence overhead. He saw a skeleton overlaid with taut muscle. Pale, hairless
flesh held the neat assemblage together. It was an attractive, well-disciplined package, this body bag. Except for the scar
that ran from the Vastus lateralis to the Vastus medialis of his right leg, he might have considered himself a perfect specimen.
He flexed his chest, admiring the ladder of muscle that descended
Similar Books
