19 Smell of Death (2/2)

I kept quiet pretending not to hear the man. Mr. Butler also seemed preoccupied with a piece of paper he had found somewhere and was drawing on it. With my meager understanding of his personality, I was sure he had not heard the words the examiner had spouted.

He looked up after a while and turned the page towards me. I looked at it in disbelief.

”You're saying this is the killing machine?” I pointed at the illustration knowing well that I would receive a sarcastic remark; hence, it was easy to ignore it completely. The machine, though, was fascinating. The main structure consisted of a rectangle frame that had large blades attached to every side. In theory, such a device is dropped on a body would cut through it in one go, producing similar angles of cutting and force.

Yet in theory, it worked. In practice, the killer would have to target victims of similar height and build and do so by estimating their heights so that the plan could work flawlessly.

Before the critique could slip out, I flipped through the autopsy file in my hand and went through each and every one.

All the victims had similar height and build.

Of course, every serial killer has a certain type of person they aim for, then why can they not vet according to body type?

”You've already informed Seth?” I was unsure as to how he would describe this thing over the phone.

”Yes, blades these sizes are monitored heavily and usually have strict importing and transportation regulation so there has to be some receipt or name in there that will help us find the killer.”

”That should narrow down the number of suspects considerably, but wouldn't larger producers selling at the market have use for these blades?” I mumbled to myself.

”Yes, but it would be a part-timer or someone that hasn't been promoted recently who should be the killer. Once we get a list, it should be very easy for us to know who it is.” I nodded. His correlation made perfect sense.

”Is there any way to identify the first victim?” I asked, suddenly remembering another big lead we had discovered that day.

The examiner shook his head.

”He's got ill-fitting clothes and nothing much on him for identification. I'll see if we can ID him from our missing person's record or biometric imprint.” Having expected as much, we moved on to checking the clothes, just to see if we could find anything valuable.

Mr. Butler wanted to go back to the location where the bodies were disposed of. He was hoping that the police would have the information about the identity of the child and the people with permits to buy the parts for the machine.

I had already checked in with Seth and asked about the progress on the investigation, but getting permits for the information took time and we didn't have much of it until the recently abducted kid was killed. I simultaneously hunted for the number of the management team of the farmer's market, hoping to get the contact and registration information on the people selling at the stalls. It was hours of work that I was completing whilst inside the car, while Mr. Butler was strolling around the area, in deep thought.

The man seemed to lack the need for food, and I wasn't very bothered by hunger either, so I kept working and checking up on the different sellers and the information on their employees, especially the ones who came to the market on a regular basis. It was a lot of information and it was easier done when processed in excel files and charts.

We drove back to Mr. Butler's place late that night, the information about the first victim and the blades still not revealed. It was probable that the child's disappearance was unreported, but something about the remnants of the clothes on the body bothered me.

Mr. Butler had said nothing about it and I assumed that it was not important, but I couldn't get it out of my head. After compiling the information, I sent the document to Mr. Butler hoping it would help him somehow.

I heard his footsteps coming towards the guestroom a few minutes after the mail had been sent.

”You found out all of this yourself?” He enquired. He offered no greeting or apology for barging in without knocking on the door. I was leaning against the headboard, going through a book as he walked in. He didn't seem fazed by my appearance, so I didn't put much thought into changing my posture.

”I'm surprised by how much I could find just by being polite.” He squinted his eyes.

”I am suspicious that you lied about why you needed the information.”

”It would have been difficult if they knew I was searching for a killer. It was easier telling them that I need the information for my dissertation.” I smiled. ”You'd be surprised by how cooperative people can be when it comes to providing research material for students.”

”Mostly because they dream that it would boost their sales and reach,” he interjected. I shrugged, having no objection to his opinion.

That's how markets work right? Sell more, make profit. Nothing wrong with that.

”Good job. You never know. It may help us.”

Though done with the conversation, he stalled at the door. He wanted to say something else but went against his previous decision. He walked away, leaving me to my devices.