Ghosts

Madelyn and her partner canvassed the area around the park, looking for anything that might be linked to the two corpses: a footprint, a candy wrapper, drag marks. They searched for witnesses, security cameras at the surrounding colleges or Madame Tussauds, couples snogging in the park who might have heard something.

“Nothing,” Aidan frowned. “Not a single bloody person in the entire park. Not a tyre track or a muddy footprint or a blade of grass out of place. It was, what, half nine when we got here? No one saw these two magically lowered in by helicopter?”

Madelyn rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked vacantly around. “Maybe he used his little cupid wings to fly them in. Cupid can make himself invisible, right?”

Aidan laughed. “I don’t know.” They stood in silence for a few moments and contemplated the scene around them. Finally, Aidan sighed. “I don’t know. I think we’re about done here, though. I’ve taken the statement of the constable that found them here, and coroner says autopsy results will be complete tomorrow. Not much else we can do. Besides, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Madelyn nodded. She could use some sleep. And a bottle of cheap scotch. They made their way out of the park and back to Aidan’s car silently. He could tell that Madelyn was trying to hide the fact that she’d been deeply disturbed by the crime scene but she wasn’t saying anything about it, so he turned the key in the ignition and drove silently home. When they reached her flat, he turned the car off and faced her.

“Maddy, look,” he started. “I know this one struck a chord with you. Maybe it’d be best if we did switch off the case, let Burke and Parson hand it.” Madelyn rolled her eyes at this suggestion.

“Stop trying to protect me, Parker,” she growled. “I’m a grown woman, and a damned good detective inspector. If I can’t handle a couple stabbings, I might as well quit.”

“That’s not what I meant. These weren’t just stabbings, Gray. They were—I mean, it was the same—you know what I meant.” Madelyn tried to smile as well she could.

“Yes, I know what you meant. The killer used a screwdriver, just like my dad’s killer used. It’s disturbingly similar, I get it. But I’m not quitting because of that. We’ll find this shit and put him behind bars. Now please may I go upstairs and get some sleep before the coroner’s report comes in and I have to be back at work?”

Aidan shrugged and started the engine again. “I’m just trying to help,” he offered.

“I know,” she smiled wearily. “Thanks.” And with that, she slammed the door and headed up to her flat. Upstairs, she ran a steaming bath, poured a generous amount of scotch into a tumbler, and stripped off all of her clothes. As she climbed into the water, the heat and the scotch loosened her restrained emotions and she cried alone in the tub for twenty minutes. She was physically and emotionally weary, and she knew the second she closed her eyes, pictures of her father’s own brutal death would start to mingle with the two corpses she had seen tonight. She quitted the tub and slipped naked beneath the covers, prepared for ghosts to overtake her.

The Cupid Killer

"I'm not a guy," Madelyn thought to herself as she hung up the phone, "though I did just break up with someone's answering machine." She smiled and slipped her mobile back into her bag. Fishing through it, she located her keys and unlocked her car door. Beethoven's 5th serenaded her and she sighed, pulling her mobile out again. "What is it, Mum? I'm on the road," she lied.

"Did you get my messages, darling?" her mother chirped. "I rang nearly a hundred times. You'd think with that many calls a daughter would answer the phone to her mother."

"Well, I guess you're in luck, I've answered now," growled Madelyn. Since her mum had moved out of the family house, she had been ringing several times a day to ask Madelyn how to stop a leaky tap or tighten a screw. And always, the message sounded the same. Hello Madelyn, it's Susan, your mother. When you have a spare moment, please ring me back. I'm having trouble hanging a frame. Her mother really was helpless. "What's up?"

"Well it's nothing, really," her mother responded, ignoring Madelyn's tone of voice. "Except, I've been receiving threatening calls for the last couple days over the telephone. And I thought maybe you could investigate it for me."

Madelyn's brow furrowed and she felt a slight twinge of guilt for not having rung her mother back earlier. "What kind of threatening calls, Mum?"

"Oh this and that," her mum said lightly, and Madelyn could just see her waving her arms nonchalantly, like nothing at all had happened, and she hadn't been receiving threatening calls. "Just the usual, darling. You'll sort it out, though, I'm sure. How's your love-life been? Still seeing that handsome Edmund? He's such a nice boy."

Madelyn rolled her eyes. "Edmund and I broke up, Mum. Three years ago. And don't try to brush past these threats like they don't mean anything. You rang nine times today; you're obviously bothered by them."

"Oh then you did see I rang," her mother said. Madelyn silently cursed herself. "Lyn, it's really nothing. Just some criminal Dad put away out to scare me, I'm sure."

"Well, I'll speak with the station out there and see if they can't tap the line or something. Meanwhile, lock the doors when you're alone, alright? I've got to run now. Promise you'll ring me if you get any more threats?"

"Alright, have a nice evening, dear," her mother said cheerfully.

Madelyn rolled her eyes. Her mother was so odd. She climbed into her car and sped off home, looking forward to a hot bath and a bottle of Chardonnay. She was five minutes in the door when her mobile rang again. "Fucking stupid people. Leave me alone!" she whined, fishing the phone out of her purse and flipping it open. "What is it, Parker?" she growled.

The laughter in her partner's voice belied the nature of the call. "Sorry, Maddy, but we've been called in. There's a pair of bodies found in Regent's Park. From what dispatch said, it isn't pretty."

Madelyn pouted. "Wonderful. You want to pick me up? I'm done driving for the day."

"See you in a few minutes, then," Aidan said, and hung up.

Grabbing a yogurt from the fridge, Madelyn plopped herself into a chair at the kitchen counter and turned the television on while she waited for Aidan. "So much for a bath," she thought, and angrily ripped the top off the yogurt. Aidan arrived a couple minutes later, and she went down to meet him.

"I broke it off with Whatsisname," she said as she climbed into the passenger seat.

Aidan smiled and asked, "Did the poor sod cry?"

Madelyn grimaced. "I don't know. I left a message." Aidan laughed and shook his head.

"If a bloke broke it off with a girl like that, he'd be called 'wanker'. If a lady does it, do you know what she's called?"

"Is this going to be another diatribe on double-standards against men? I can only handle one a week, and you've filled your quota," Madelyn said.

"Do you know what she's called?" he asked again, and then continued without waiting for a response. "She's called Detective Inspector Madelyn Gray." Aidan laughed shamelessly at his own joke.

Madelyn smiled and hit Aidan in the arm. "Bugger," she muttered.

They arrived at Regent's Park and followed the flashing lights to a taped-off area of the park. Ducking under the police line and flashing their badges, they made their way to the actual crime scene. Madelyn stopped dead in her tracks and the breath caught in her throat. She tried to turn away from the two bodies on the ground, but her eyes were frozen with the rest of her body.

She was only vaguely aware of the people around her, her partner talking to the arriving officer, the woman who had called it in shaking her head and crying softly in shock. She was lost in a crowd of officers and EMTs, focused wholly on the two bodies in front of her. Two men, no distinguishable features except that their faces were beaten beyond recognition. The killer had positioned them to be holding hands, which were covered in blood because the skin of their fingers had been cut off. But this wasn't the reason she couldn't move. Both men had been stabbed upwards of 20 times with a circular weapon. Madelyn knew immediately what it was. It was the same thing that had been used to kill her father six years ago. They had been stabbed with a screwdriver. Her father's terror-stricken face floated in front of her eyes and her eyes welled up with tears.

She yelped, startled suddenly by Aidan's hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ear.

"Maddy, I'm sorry. Why don't you go back to the car and I'll call someone else in." Madelyn shook her head and came out of her trance, determined to go on despite the flood of memories.

"I'm fine," she whispered, and then more confidently, "I'm fine." She swallowed hard and turned to face her partner. "What do we know so far? Who are these guys?"

Aidan frowned at her, but continued when she only glared at him expectantly. "Identities unknown, but the coroner puts them both somewhere in their mid-forties. There's no blood in the vicinity, so they were dropped here, and they were killed within the last 72 hours, because they're still stiff as boards." He bent down and rolled one of the victims on their side. "And he left a calling card," he said, pointing to the victim's nape.

Madelyn leaned down and examined the back. There was a chunk of skin missing in the shape of a heart. She frowned and turned the other victim over to find a similar carving on his nape. "Looks like Cupid's in a bad mood tonight," she said.

A Headache

It was half three and the flat was in complete darkness. It seemed as if even the street lamps had gone to sleep. Madelyn slipped quietly from between the sheets, not wanting to disturb the man sleeping beside her. Six years had passed since her father's murder, and she was still waking in the dead of night from gruesome, all-too-real nightmares. She tiptoed across the cold hard wood of her flat and into the kitchen for a cold glass of water. Her throat was always dry when she woke up.

Taking a sip, she sat down at the counter and stared into the dark, letting images of that night float before her eyes. Her mother in tears. Her father strewn casually across the floor of his study, a white sheet covering everything but his face. And his face. The horrible agonized look, forever set in her memory, a mixture of surprise and pain. Pain of a screwdriver being thrust into his body so many times and pain of knowing that it was his former partner, his best friend, who was stabbing him.

"Lyn?" Her father's voice the last time she had seen her dad alive. "Lyn, are you with us?" She had smiled at him across the table. "There you are." He had smiled back at his little girl. "Mum asked how school was going."

And then it was gone. She was back in her flat, and her latest shag had his hand on her shoulder. "There you are," he said, and then moved to the sink to fill a glass with water for himself. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head and took another sip. "Headache."

"You want me to wait up with you?" She forced a smile and shook her head again.

"No sense in us both being tired in the morning," she said quietly. "Go back to bed. I'll be in in a moment." She watched him make his sleepy way back to her bedroom. He was really a nice guy.




"Maddy, you hate nice guys," Aidan laughed. "Why are you still with this guy?"

Madelyn glared across her coffee at her partner. "Why don't you stick to figuring out how our john here died instead of prying into my love life, Detective Inspector Parker?"

"'Detective Inspector Parker', eh?" Aidan grinned. "I must've hit a sore spot, Detective Inspector Gray. I should remember this the next time you're on my case about Chloe."

"Oh shove off, Aidan," Madelyn growled, throwing a piece of her pastry across the desk at him. She was quiet for a minute, then added thoughtfully, "It's because he's such a good fuck. I wouldn't have even answered his calls if it weren't for that. You're right, though, I suppose. God, he gives me such a headache. I'll call him later and break it off."

Aidan laughed again. "Sometimes, Maddy, you are such a guy."

Uxbridge Road

Puddles splashed angrily against the car as Madelyn pressed down on the accelerator. Rain was pelting the windshield of her smart, black Mini and the wipers were barely able to wipe the window clear before the fat raindrops splattered all over them again. Madelyn didn't care, though. She knew Uxbridge Road only too well, and she pressed the pedal down even further, urging the needle on the odometer to push 80 mph, 90 mph.

Her mobile vibrated and Beethoven's 5th Symphony played ominously. "Mother," she muttered, and she reached for her phone as her foot let off the accelerator. She rolled her eyes and put the phone up to her ear. "Mum, I'm just around the bend, for God's sake. I told you I would be to dinner by half six, and it's only a quarter past six!"

"Darling," her mother whispered, her voice trembling. "There's been a terrible..." Her voice trailed off and Madelyn could hear muffled sobs. Her mother was always so composed, and it worried Madelyn to hear her crying now.

"Mum, what is it?" Madelyn asked. "Has Dad had a heart attack?" Her father's health had been declining rapidly, and he had been to the doctor a handful of times in the past few years for mini-heart attacks. He had even been forced to retire from his long-time position as commissioner of the City of London Police. Just that day had been his official last day on the force; Madelyn was driving to her parents' in Hillingdon to have a celebratory dinner and retirement party.

When her mother didn't answer right away, Madelyn felt her chest tighten and her pulse quicken. "Mum," she said forcefully, "what's wrong? I need you to tell me."

Every second that passed only made Madelyn's worries grow, until finally her mother sniffed. "Lyn, Dad's had a terrible accident," she stuttered. "The coroner says..." She broke off again and started sobbing audibly this time.

"The coroner?" Madelyn repeated. "Mum, tell me what's happened now."

Her mother took several deep breaths and finally said, "Lyn, your father's been murdered."