Secrets and Lies

After listening to Inspector Carter's theories then taking another look at the victims' files I was almost convinced. The main problem I could see, and which the inspector conceded was a very valid concern, was that all the evidence linking the deceased women with the missing men was circumstantial.

There were no witnesses, nobody saw the men get taken or transformed. And no-one saw the women die or their bodies being dumped either. So the sad truth was we didn't have any sort of confirmation either way. As improbable as it seemed, we simply couldn't rule out the possibility that some unknown person or persons was staging the whole thing. Someone could have kidnapped the men, stripped them, then dressed the women's bodies in the stolen clothing and dumped them near where the men were taken.

Except in that case the six womens' bodies had to come from somewhere, and they had to die of something. Yet so far there were no conclusive IDs on any of them, and no cause of death either. Which made the whole thing seem even more implausible.

Still, no matter how outlandish or unlikely all that sounded, it was at least within the realm of possibility.

Carter even admitted it himself, had this case come up just six months earlier that was the angle he'd be pursuing. He'd have laughed at the suggestion that someone was using magic to transform random men into women then murder them. Everything changed over the summer though, when the general public became aware of that first spell. Now less than six months after its original appearance everyone but the most bullheaded had come to accept that magic was real.

I was living proof, thanks to my own miraculous transition last month. And that's why I had to agree that the inspector's theory seemed possible. To misquote an old fictional detective, we could no longer rule out the impossible, which meant the improbable was even more unlikely. Or to misquote a more recent fictional detective, ignore the improbable because the impossible's a lot more interesting.

So with all that out of the way, my next step was to get properly set up as a temporary member of the local detachment. Carter turned me over to George Mallory for that, since it was mostly administrative and didn't require the inspector's involvement. I was also given use of one of the unused desks in the main office, but as I got myself set up there it turned out I also needed a bit of tech support. Which was another of the tall blond constable's duties, apparently.

"Thank you George this is perfect," I smiled as soon as I saw the 'network connected' icon appear on my laptop screen.

Mallory smiled back, "My pleasure ma'am. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

"I will," I replied.

Once I was on their secure wifi and had been granted access to their local server I was finally able to get a look at all the information that didn't make it into Inspector Carter's hardcopy files.

The first thing I did was download the full autopsy reports for Jane Does one through five. The sixth report wasn't ready yet, but when it was I'd get a copy of that as well. Then I grabbed copies of all six incident reports from when the bodies were found. And finally I also took copies of whatever data was available on the missing men, including the original missing persons reports, information regarding the searches conducted, and everything else about them that the locals had on file.

My plan was to get myself up to speed on the case as quickly as possible, so when I was done I'd know as much about the situation as Carter himself. Although judging by how much data I'd just downloaded, I realized it might take me the whole weekend to do that. In addition to all the written reports there were also over a hundred photographs, plus a few hours of audio interviews and video files for me to review.

Since I didn't have anything better to do I decided to get started right there, with the very first pair of victims. That was the hiker who went missing in August, and Jane Doe number one who's body was found during the search for the missing man.

About two hours later I was still at it, staring at a couple side-by-side images on my laptop screen. On the left was a photo the ME had taken of the tattoo on the first Jane Doe's arm, and on the right was a selfie the missing hiker posted to his social media showing off the ink he'd gotten featuring his girlfriend's name. And as far as I was concerned the two were the same. It wasn't quite as conclusive as DNA or fingerprints, but to my untrained eyes the details in both tattoos were identical.

That left me with a question, so I got up and headed back to Carter's office to inquire about it. I stepped up to his open doorway and asked, "Have you tried getting DNA samples from the any of the missing men? They can do wonders now with a hair brush or a toothbrush. Or maybe you could get prints off some of their belongings? To see if they might match up with the bodies, I mean."

"Of course I have," he stated. "The problem is I can't get those requests approved without something on hand to try and match against. And when I told my superior I wanted to try and match the missing men against the Jane Doe bodies, I was summarily denied. He won't even listen to my reasoning, I'm afraid."

My shoulders slumped as I sighed, "Ah. I don't suppose -"

Just then his mobile started ringing, and after checking the display the inspector excused himself then answered the call. "Hello Maureen! Tell me you've got some good news?"

"Perfect!" he added a moment later. "Hang on I'm going to put you on speaker."

Carter gestured for me to have a seat as he tapped the screen, then set his phone down on the desk between us. "I'm talking with Dr. Maureen O'Conner. She's the medical examiner I mentioned, based in Whitby. And Maureen, this is Detective Trillium Sharpe. She's on loan to us from London."

"Hello there," I chimed in as I slipped into the guest chair.

A middle-aged woman's voice responded, "Good afternoon detective."

"You're ready for my preliminary verbal report now James?" she continued. She sounded somewhere between sarcastic and amused as she added, "I'll be sending you the full report on Monday, and that's going to be much more thorough than whatever we discuss over the phone."

The inspector rolled his eyes, "I know that Maureen. Just like you know I always want to hear it directly from you regardless."

That brief exchange was enough to tell me both the doctor and the inspector probably worked together quite a bit. They might even be old friends, or at least they were comfortable enough as colleagues for a little gentle teasing between them. It also reinforced what I'd already gathered about James Carter, namely that the man seemed to be a bit old-fashioned. Or maybe he just wasn't that comfortable with technology.

"As with the first five Janes Doe I've been unable to determine a cause of death," the doctor began. "Jane Doe Six had no unusual markings, no signs of physical trauma, no indication of disease or other illness. No trace of drugs or alcohol in her system either, and all the tox screens came back clean."

She continued, "Based on the first five I wasn't holding out much hope of getting a positive ID for her, but we tried the usual anyways. Ran her picture through the various databases, checked all ten prints, and we took DNA. I'm still waiting on that, but it should be back Monday morning. Anyways this time we actually got a match on the fingerprints."

"And?" Carter asked impatiently. He didn't sound excited though, like he didn't think this was going to be a big break in the case. If anything his expression and tone seemed somewhat guarded, as though he already expected this. And maybe he even knew what the doctor was going to say next.

O'Conner hesitated, "When I first saw what the computer came up with I was sure it had to be a bug, or bad data perhaps. I've double-checked it myself though, and it's a positive match. Not just one print, I'm talking about better than ninety-nine point nine percent certainty on all eight fingers and both thumbs."

"Get to the point please doctor," the inspector grumbled. "Jane Doe number six has a name, what is it?"

The doctor sighed, "Your sixth body's fingerprints match those of Detective Harry Armstrong. You know that's impossible though, don't you? There's no way this woman was Harry, she can't be."

Inspector Carter's expression seemed to harden for a second or two. Then he glanced at me and commented, "That's it Sharpe. It's not circumstantial anymore. That's a hard scientific connection, between one of our bodies and a missing man."

"Yes sir," I agreed.

Unfortunately that didn't really change much. He and I were already pretty much sold on the idea, but from the sound of it the fingerprint evidence wasn't enough to convince his ME friend yet.

Sure enough Maureen commented, "Perhaps we'll know more when the DNA results come in. Anyways you'll have my full report on Monday. Have yourself a good weekend James. And please be careful."

"Thanks Maureen," Carter responded. "Call me on Monday, as soon as you get those results."

That was all either of them had to say, so the doctor bid the inspector and I a good evening then hung up. That left Carter with a thoughtful look on his face for the next couple seconds, before he finally spoke up again.

"I'm confident the DNA will match just like the fingerprints," he stated. "None of the other missing men had ever been fingerprinted, nor was their DNA on file anywhere. Harry was the first one where we've had something on file to compare against."

After a slight hesitation I pointed out, "It sounded like Dr. O'Conner still has her doubts. I can't help thinking even the DNA won't be enough to sway most people."

The inspector frowned, "Maybe not. But I don't need to convince most people. It confirms my suspicions, and tells me I'm on the right path. Such as it is."

I couldn't argue with that point, and for that matter the matching prints pretty much had me sold on his theory as well. Which led me to my next question, although I could already guess the answer.

"So the ME is off for the weekend, but I don't imagine you'll be taking any days off from this?"

The inspector slowly shook his head, "I don't plan on stopping until we've put an end to this. Whatever it is, or whoever's behind it."

"Having said that we can't keep at it twenty-four-seven," he added. "If the pattern holds, we've got at least another four days to try and stop this before it happens again. And being that it's almost six on a Friday evening I think it's time we called it a night. Where is it you're staying detective? I can offer you a lift if you like?"

I stifled a sigh, "Chief Superintendent Williams led me to understand that someone here would be making those arrangements. I was about to ask you where I'm supposed to be staying."

Carter stared at me for a second then reached for his phone as he commented, "I'm getting the feeling there's no love lost between you and that boss of yours. Something personal? Or is the man just not very good at his job?"

"It's been like this ever since I came out last month," I said with a bit of a scowl. "Not just with him either. I'm sure they're trying to get me to quit, or maybe they're hoping I'll request a transfer somewhere."

The inspector frowned, "Well you won't have to deal with anything like that in this office. Or if you do, I'll want to hear about it so I can put a stop to it. I don't tolerate bigotry or prejudice, and my staff all know it."

"I can't promise you won't run into the occasional close-minded individuals in the area," he added, "But most of the locals have learned to keep those sorts of opinions to themselves when I'm about."

Hearing that actually left me feeling good about this temporary assignment, for the first time since Williams brought it up yesterday afternoon. I smiled, "Thank you sir. I really appreciate hearing that."

He just nodded as he turned his attention to the contact list on his phone. He tapped one of the names and the call connected a few moments later, so I kept quiet and listened to his side of the conversation.

"Good evening Mrs. Whitmore, it's Inspector Carter calling... Yes I know... Alright ma'am I'll keep that in mind. Tell me, do you have any rooms available? I've a colleague here who's going to need a place to stay, I was hoping you might be able to look after her... Yes, she's visiting from London... Alright perfect. Her name's Trillium Sharpe, I'll bring her over shortly. Put it on the department account please Mrs. Whitmore... Yes you too, have a wonderful evening. Goodbye now."

With that out of the way he set his phone aside then explained, "Mrs. Whitmore owns a nice little bed and breakfast right on Market Street, that's the main road through Castleton, and practically in the middle of town. From her place you've got a pub across the street, post office next door, and a little grocery store just a short hop down the lane."

"Sounds perfect," I smiled.

He suggested, "If you're ready to call it a day then why don't you go pack up your laptop. I'll drop you off so you can get settled in."

"Thank you inspector," I replied. Then I glanced down at my leggings and hoodie and added, "I honestly didn't intend to come to work dressed like this. I went with casual and comfy for the train trip, but thought I'd have a chance to freshen up and get changed before reporting for duty here."

Carter's eyes flicked up and down over me once more then he shrugged, "The constables are expected to be in uniform, but we don't really have much of a dress code here beyond that. If you want to be a little more formal then that's up to you, but if you'd rather stay casual then that's fine too."

"As long as we all act professional that's what counts," he added.

I couldn't help smiling, "I'll keep that in mind sir. Thank you."

It only took a moment to get my laptop stuffed back into my travel bag. Then we paused at the front door so the inspector could pull on his trench coat while I slipped on my windbreaker. Constable Blake had already left for the evening, but there was a tall handsome dark-skinned officer there for the night shift. Carter did the introductions again, then we both bid Constable Chaudhuri a good evening before heading out to the old Rover.

The sun had long since gone down, but at least the rain had stopped. The drive only lasted a minute or so anyways, before Carter pulled over to stop on the side of the road in the middle of town.

He gestured, "That's Mrs. Whitmore's place right there, just let yourself in the front door and tell her I sent you. And there's the pub, I can recommend the fish and chips if you're hungry. They also do a very nice meat pie."

I thanked him as I climbed out of the vehicle, and bid him a good evening before closing the door. Then I headed in through the front entrance of the two-story house while the inspector drove off into the night behind me.

Mrs. Whitmore turned out to be a silver-haired widow in her late sixties. She seemed very spry and energetic for her age though, and personally led me up the stairs to show me the room where I'd be staying. There was a twin bed to one side, a comfortable-looking recliner next to the window overlooking Market Street, and a modest TV on the wall where it could be viewed from either the bed or the chair. There was also a small en-suite bathroom, which featured a toilet, sink, and shower stall.

Considering I hadn't eaten since breakfast this morning I decided food was my next priority. So I left my travel bag on the bed for now, and as I was only going across the street I left my jacket on the coat-tree by the door. Then I headed back down the stairs and out the door to the pub across the road.

It was Friday night so I wasn't surprised to find the place was rather busy. It wasn't packed, but there was the typical constant din of conversation and people enjoying their food and drinks. There were also the occasional cheers or groans from the crowd, based on the various sporting matches displayed on the half dozen televisions located around the interior.

I managed to get a small table for myself just inside the front door, then after a quick look at the menu I ordered the chicken pot pie along with a half pint of lager. And finally I pulled my phone out of my purse so I could catch up on my socials while I sipped my drink and waited for dinner.

That's when I inadvertently overheard a couple people talking to each other at the next table. It was just one word that caught my attention, but as soon as I heard it I found myself listening intently to the two men seated behind me.

"...pathologist's off for the weekend," a male voice commented in a south London accent. "So I think we should head back to Whitby tonight. Then we'll have the place to ourselves while we cleanse the body and scrub any other details that need to disappear."

"We really should have done this sooner," he added. "I hope the delay won't cause us any trouble going forward."

Another man responded in a distinctly Scottish accent, "Oi, public place. According to Terry they've already sent another detective. Some bloke named Sharpe, should be in town by now."

"I saw the ID scan Terry sent," the first man replied calmly. "Sharpe's not here, I've been keeping an eye out for him."

By that point my heart was racing, and for the first time in three weeks I was grateful for the Met dragging their feet on processing my new warrant card. I found myself straining to listen in on everything else that was said behind me, while my phone was all but forgotten in my hand.

"Damned sloppy going after that detective," the Scotsman commented. "Makes me wonder if it was intentional though? Might be this thing's intelligent after all, targeting one of the men out looking for it."

The Londoner sounded unconvinced, "If so then the smart move would have been to move on. Lashing out at the local constabulary hasn't achieved anything, other than drawing even more scrutiny on its activities."

"Good point," Mr. Scotland agreed with a sigh.

After a pause Mr. South London asked, "Are you done? I'm ready to get moving."

"Aye," the other man responded. "I'll get the car. You may as well let the office know what we're up to."

A moment later the two of them passed by my table on their way towards the exit, and I hastily snapped a few clandestine pictures with my phone. The first man was about a hundred and eighty-five centimetres tall with a slim build and appeared to be in his mid-thirties. He was conventionally attractive, clean-shaved, and his short dark hair was neatly combed. And he was dressed in a dark overcoat and slacks.

The second seemed a bit older, late thirties or early forties perhaps. He looked a bit taller than myself, around a hundred and seventy-five centimetres was my guess, and had a somewhat stocky build. He had short red hair and a full red beard, and was dressed in jeans and a black peacoat.

That's all I saw though before my view was obscured by my waitress as she arrived with my dinner. She set the plate down in front of me as she smiled, "Here you go miss, enjoy!"