FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CHAPTER THIRTEEN NED

"Claudia Wittmore?" Garrett repeated, shocked. "That's...huge, Ned."

"I know" Ned said simply, thinking. He'd never seen much of Wittmore's show; he tended to watch mostly movies, and rarely, the news; not talk shows. But nonetheless he knew perfectly well who Wittmore was, and why she was famous. And now she was dead. Hugo Sota had been someone that most of the public wouldn't care much about; Conrad Fincher was a rising star but not a megastar; but Claudia Wittmore...as Garrett said, that was huge. This meant that whoever the killer was, he wasn't afraid to go after someone seemingly untouchable. And that meant that he wasn't killing just for the sake of killing, Ned thought; the killer must certainly have picked Wittmore because the leopardess was the kind of person whose death would shock everyone.

It was an act of terrorism, intended to create fear. There was no other explanation.

Ned met Arkady at the station, but by the time he got there, the plans had already been changed. "The area has been closed off" the fox explained, looking rather tired. "We're going to be on it first thing in the morning. I looked it over when we first found her but the killer is long gone and I don't want to mess up any evidence in the dark."

So in the end he sent Ned home, and the wolf was left to lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and wondering what this new death would mean for the case, and for him. Disappointing end to a great evening, he thought. He'd been thinking there for a little while that he and Garrett might go home together, but after meeting with Arkady, the coyote had seen that Ned was not in the mood anymore, so they'd kissed goodnight quickly before Garrett's Mustang zoomed off into the night, leaving Ned alone with his thoughts.

Claudia Wittmore had been shot with arrows.

The leopardess's body had been found down at the city docks, near an old wharf where fishermen had once posed for photos with their catch of the day. Her body was hanging from a hook of the sort used to haul up sharks, swordfish, and other large sea creatures for photographing, the hook thrust around part of her torso, although it was clear she had already been dead when she'd been hauled up in the air.

The number of arrows was not initially clear, because they bristled from her torso like needles on a porcupine, reminding Ned of movie versions of Custer's last stand. Any of them would have been fatal, so it was purely symbolic. The last arrow, probably post-death, Carmen said, had been thrust through Wittmore's paw, pinning a thick sheet of paper to it. Ned grimaced when he saw the now-dreaded list of the Ten Commandments, although this time, a second piece of paper accompanied it. It was impossible to read it though with the leopardess still hanging in the air.

"This is one fucked-up bastard" Scarlett muttered grimly as she and Ned studied the body. Carmen was snapping photos, saying something about Wittmore having been killed somewhere else.

"No kidding" Ned agreed, unable to take his eyes off the dead woman. Both of the previous victim's eyes had been closed when they were found, but Wittmore's were open, her face eternally frozen in wide-eyed horror, like some kind of bizarre wax sculpture.

"Double fuck" the coyote groaned. "Here comes the media."

The last thing we need, Ned thought, although it wasn't like he wasn't expecting them to show up sooner or later. Arkady had said that the police force wanted to keep news of Wittmore's murder quiet until they could investigate, but someone had leaked it overnight anyway, so that Ned had heard DJs gushing about it on the radio as he drove to the crime scene that morning. Now that the vans had started appearing, it would be a real zoo down here, he thought. Just exactly what they needed.

Lennox had come to the crime scene for the first time, and Diego, Montoya, and Nolan were there too - almost the entire division, Ned realised. Of course they were all there, though, because now with three victims, this was officially a serial killer case. Which meant that every member of the division would be assigned to catching the killer, not just Ned and Scarlett.

"I've got PR dealing with the media for the moment" Lennox was saying as they all gathered in a group near the body. "Are we ready to pull her down?"

"We've got men on the job" Montoya told her.

"There's some kind of note stuck to her hand" Ned said, pointing. "More than just the Ten Commandments like before."

"Good observation, Parker. You can look into that when they get the arrow out" Lennox said seriously. "Arkady. I hear you talked to her SO?"

Arkady nodded slowly. The fox looked exhausted; Ned wondered if he'd actually gotten any sleep. "Mrs Wittmore was supposed to pick up a few things at WINCO yesterday afternoon. Seems like she made it there because we found her car there yesterday evening, with fresh groceries in it, but unlocked. A passer-by heard Wittmore's baby crying and alerted authorities."

"Abducted in the parking lot" Lennox shook her head. "No report of witnesses?"

"None that have turned up yet."

"Where are her family?"

"They have a house up yonder" Arkady pointed off in the direction of the Lincoln Hill district. "I went with Paretti and Pollack to alert Alana of her wife's death."

"I didn't even know Wittmore had a house here" Ned muttered.

"Or that she was even here" Diego added.

"We weren't prepared" Lennox's ears flattened, but her voice was emotionless. "I underestimated this killer..."

In the distance Ned could see cameras flashing and the rise of voices. The wharf smelled pleasantly of the sea, but there was also that ever-present scent of death, magnified from the blood that had seeped from some of the arrow punctures in Claudia Wittmore's body, and he swallowed. This wasn't the work of an armature; they were dealing with a professional killer with an agenda.

"The body is down" Montoya alerted them, lacking his usual humour.

There wasn't much else that could be learned from examining Wittmore's corpse; not until the crime lab had looked her over in detail for scent traces, anyway. She'd clearly died from the arrows, quite possibly from the first to strike her; the rest was just overkill, for dramatic effect on account of the police.

The papers were particularly more interesting. The Ten Commandments turned out to be entirely predictable, in that the third commandment was highlighted, and CLAUDIA WITTMORE was written next to it. It was the other note that was new, another sheet of printer paper on which a short but sinister warning had been typed, in angry, thick print:

"This is a warning to all who would sin against God and the rules of nature: know that no matter how powerful one is, he or she is still unable to hide from the wrath of God. If you lie with demons and allow your soul to be corrupted and poisoned by Satan, you will be destroyed. There is no escape" ~ The Prophet

For a moment Ned stared at the warning, rereading it, and then he turned and handed it to Scarlett. "What do you make of this?" He wanted to see if she noticed the same thing he had.

"The Prophet" she gasped, ears splaying. "That's what that fucked-up senator's supporters call him."

Ned nodded. "Yes, exactly. We were right that the killer is a follower of his."

He was about to say more, about how this meant that Arkady was definitely right to look into TMF membership, when an indignant, curious voice spoke behind him. "The Prophet? Is that who killed Claudia?"

Both he and Scarlett spun to face a thin pine marten, maybe around thirty years old, dressed mostly in shades of pink, accented here and there with a blue scarf and bracelets. The marten carried a pencil and pad, and had a camera and a small bag slung over her shoulder. She was peering past them in the direction of where some of the other officers were doing a last go-over of the scene before Wittmore's body was removed.

"Excuse me?" the young woman repeated. "You're not moving the body yet, are you?" She must have caught a glance of the now-empty hook, because her eyes widened and her whiskers twitched. "Oh my god, he had her strung up like a fish on a hook!" she started scribbling in her notepad.

"Hey!" Ned barked, instantly on the alert. "Who are you? I don't think you have clearance to be back here."

"What are you writing?" Scarlett asked sharply at almost the same time.

The marten looked up, glancing between them with a dubious expression. "Holly Vaughn, of FABULOUS" she replied, speaking so fast Ned could hardly follow her. "And actually, I do have clearance. You know, free speech, freedom of the press, freedom of assembly. Something like that."

"What the fuck is FABULOUS?" Scarlett snapped.

Holly Vaughn gave her a condescending look. "Only the best LGBT pop culture magazine in print today" She looked Scarlett up and down, raising her eyebrows. "You wouldn't know that, though, would you? You look like my best friend's ex, just even less well-dressed."

"Great, a fucking tabloid" Scarlett muttered, rolling her eyes.

Ned put a paw on the coyote's shoulder. "So you write for a tabloid? Besides, this area is off limits to civilians and media. You don't have clearance."

"Oh please, Zac Efron" the marten snickered. "I have clearance everywhere!" She put the pad into her breast pocket. "But don't worry your little wolfy heart, I'm leaving. Quite enough for a good story here. Not every day Claudia Wittmore gets shot up by a serial killer."

"Not a serial killer" Ned said, before he could stop himself. What was it they'd said at the academy about dealing with obnoxious media?

Holly's condescending smile was even worse this time. "Oh? Sorry pups, but I know a lie when I see one. There have been three deaths, all with that ten commandment message; this is now a serial killer case."

She turned to walk away, and Ned started after her. "You'll have to give me that notepad" he growled. "This information is not released to the press yet."

The marten spun around, facing him fearlessly. "Oh, I don't think so. You'd have to take it from me, but if you so much as lay a pawpad on me," she warned, still wearing that sticky-sweet smile, "I will tell your unit that - gasp! - one of their officers laid a hand on my...." She touched a paw to her breast, face contorted in mock shock. "Trying to assault an innocent lesbian wouldn't do you much good, would it, wolf? Then you'd just get your little wolfy butt throw in jail, and you wouldn't be able to catch this killer so I can write more articles about him."

Ned was not normally prone to anger, but something about this condescending little bitch of a marten was absolutely infuriating. He unclenched a paw as Holly patted a small paw on his shoulder, her voice still sounding maddeningly patronizing. "Or don't. If you don't catch him then he'll keep killing people and I can keep writing articles about them. Either way, I win." She grinned. "Play nicely, puppies. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again." And then she turned and walked away confidently, in the way of a woman who knows nothing can hurt her because with one touch of her hand or one word from her muzzle she can either seduce a man or infuriate him. It was, he reflected, the same way Olympia Rogan moved.

"That woman HAS to be the worst bitch I have ever met" Scarlett grumbled as they walked away from the crime scene, which was clearing up now that Claudia Wittmore's body had been removed. "God, I just wanted to punch her in her perfect smiling little face."

"Nothing we can do about her now" Ned muttered, laying a paw on his partner's shoulder. "What worries me is what she'll write in her tabloid." They'd already admitted to Lennox that a reporter had gotten through the media block and had seen a brief glimpse of Wittmore's body, enough to confirm that the TV star had died from being shot with arrows and that she'd been strung up on a hook for effect.

Needless to say, the lieutenant hadn't been pleased. "Williston will have my tail for that" she had muttered, shaking her head. "But what's done is done. Just make sure no more reporters get close to..." She was going to say "bodies," Ned had thought, but she doesn't want to imply that there will be more victims.

Some of the media vans and reporters had left when they realised that there wasn't that much to see, especially after Claudia Wittmore's body had been taken away by ambulance, but just as they left, curious spectators had come to take their place, so that a restless crowd now milled about in the street and around the wharf buildings and warehouses. Some of them had wandered down onto to the docks, just to see if they could get a better view from there. Several of the reporters tried to speak to Ned and Scarlett as the pair of cops tried to make their way back to the blocked-off area where the police cars were parked, but they managed to quiet them with only a few vague sentences saying that yes, Claudia Wittmore was dead, but that they could not release any more information at the time. There's no way we'll avoid media attention now, Ned thought, not with Wittmore added to the growing list of victims. This case was now going to be a focus of national attention, no doubt of that. Which was, he thought grimly, probably exactly what the killer wanted.

The street cops had done a pretty decent job of keeping the media away from the area where Ned's truck was parked, so he was surprised to see a well-dressed fox walking curiously from vehicle to vehicle, as if searching for someone.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here" he said, for the second time that day. Was it going to be like this every crime scene till the killer was caught?

The fox spun around, and smiled apologetically. Maybe not a reporter after all, Ned thought - the man was dressed in formal business attire, suit and tie, and was not carrying any cameras or notepads. Tall for a fox, maybe mid-to-late thirties.

"Actually, I do have clearance" the fox said politely. "You must be members of SF Metro Homicide."

How could he know that, Ned thought, but then he realised that the fact that he and Scarlett were not wearing uniforms would give away that they were not street cops, and anyway this man looked like he might be a businessman or politician. "Your badges give you away" the fox continued. He held out a paw. "I'm Jared Joel Maxwell, of Poole, Peck, & Roswell."

Oh. Poole, Peck, & Roswell was one of San Fernando's oldest and most respected law firms, which meant that this fox, Maxwell, was a man of some power, quite possibly a friend or ally of either District Attorney Douglas or Mayor Wong - or both. Ned was pretty sure he'd heard the name before, and DA Douglas sometimes had a fox working with him on cases. Either way, no surprise Maxwell had the clearance to get near crime scenes.

"Officer Ned Parker, of, as you said, SF Metro Homicide" Ned introduced himself. "And the lady is Officer Scarlett Lewis." He shook Maxwell's paw. "How can I help you, Mr Maxwell?" He wondered what the lawyer wanted. The thought made his ears flick back - it was never good news when such people showed up at crime scenes; usually that meant they wanted to involve themselves in the investigation, much to the police's chagrin.

Maxwell laughed shortly. "Call me JJ" he said, "everyone does." He must have noticed Ned's hesitance, thought, because he followed that up with "I just want to confirm in person that Mrs Wittmore really was murdered. Sometimes with rumours...." He waved a paw. "The media takes a rumour and runs with it and before you know it, some poor bloke is hearing his own death announcement on the radio."

Ned hesitated. Was he permitted to share case details with this fox? He wondered what Arkady would say. "She's dead, yes. Abducted and...shot with arrows." He glanced at Scarlett, who had been quiet after shaking JJ Maxwell's paw. She nodded encouragingly. This was a totally different matter than handling Holly Vaughn.

"I was hoping it wasn't true" Maxwell muttered, running a paw over his ears. "I specialise in LGBT related lawsuits so I have to look into things like this. Although I've never had someone this.....popular...killed before."

Oh, that rang a bell. "You're one of the guys who filed the lawsuit that sparked Amendment 28 in the first place," Ned said, remembering. "Something about some states not accepting recognition of marriages performed in others?"

The fox nodded. "Yes, I got the ball rolling. And...." He sighed. "I don't regret it, but this whole business with the murders is unfortunate. This is supposed to be a city known worldwide for its acceptance as a place for minorities, but I can't feel safe going out at night with my boyfriend if someone's killing prominent LGBT people, can I? Could damage our - San Fernando's - reputation."

"We're doing our best to determine who's doing the killing" Ned told him. So Maxwell was gay - no surprise though, if he was the one involved in the original lawsuit.

"Yeah" the lawyer didn't seem convinced. "I do some work with the People's Rights Campaign, and we're concerned that all the emotion stirred up by the Amendment business has people going to extremes to advance their positions. Such as killing important gay people. Three now."

Damn, Ned thought, was everyone putting together the three killings now? The idea of a serial killer on the loose could bring up hysteria, and that was never good. "You're probably right" he said shortly, not wanting to continue this conversation.

Fortunately Maxwell took the hint, thanked him and left. Ned wasn't sure whether the fox was actually worried about him or his boyfriend being targeted, or whether his concern stemmed merely from a worry that the murders would damage San Fernando's reputation as a haven for gay people. Either way, though, they'd have to get used to this sort of thing. The more attention the case got, which was unavoidable when someone like Claudia Wittmore was the victim, the more lawyers, politicians, and other society bigwigs would be poking their muzzles into SF Metro's business.