the naked body of a young white male, his face close to the dead man’s skin. Satisfied, he straightened up and began to scribble notes on the pad held in his hand.
Sean recognized the corpse, though as ever it looked different from the crime scene photographs – less garish and vivid, and somehow less real. Like a yellowish, rubber imitation of a real, living person.
‘I see you’ve met William Dalton?’ he asked loudly enough to distract Canning from his examination.
‘Indeed,’ Canning answered, glancing up from his notes. ‘I heard this one was yours.’
‘Yes, it was passed to SIU because of the probable link to another murder.’
‘Tanya Richards,’ Canning confirmed. ‘I’ve read the file, but haven’t seen the body. She hasn’t been buried yet, so I should be able to take a look before she heads off to a better place. In the meantime, you certainly have an interesting one here. A rather unfortunate end for a rather unfortunate young man.’
‘Yes,’ Sean agreed. ‘Yes, it was.’
They both remained silent for a few seconds, paying their last respects to the victim. Then all emotions were set aside in order to find the evidence that would catch and convict his killer.
‘What have we got so far?’ Sean asked.
‘What we have so far is unusual and rare. Most of the dead I’ve seen with their throats cut were victims of organized crime. South American drug gangs are particularly fond of cutting throats, but it’s rare in this country. I can’t remember ever seeing it in a domestic murder scenario or anything of that nature.’
‘It’s too cold for that,’ Sean told him. ‘Domestic murders are hate-driven or anger-driven, which means uncontrolled stabbing, or strangulation, but slitting a throat is cold and precise. Not an act of anger. Not rage, or at least not as we know it. But it’s not gang stuff either. Something else.’
‘Interesting,’ Canning said. ‘And the removal of the teeth – also something I’ve only ever seen in gang-related deaths. West African, usually. Bit of a habit from the old country they brought over here with them: if someone’s double-crossed you or stolen from you, punish them by taking their teeth – and use the gold ones to settle the debt.’
‘Nice,’ Sean winced.
‘But I fear that’s not what we have here,’ Canning said.
‘No. I doubt William Dalton had any gold teeth.’
‘I’m sure you’ll check with his dentist anyway?’ Canning grinned.
‘Naturally,’ Sean admitted, allowing himself the briefest of smiles. ‘And the removal of fingernails,’ he brought things back to the grim reality in front of them. ‘First time I’ve seen that.’
‘Same here,’ Canning told him, tilting his head to study the dead man’s hands. ‘Judging by the fraying of the soft tissue that attaches the nail to the finger, it’s clear the nails were pulled off as opposed to being cut away. Most likely used a pair of pliers – no doubt the same pair he used to extract some of the teeth, although there are also clear signs of a bladed instrument being used to cut away sections of the gums to make extraction easier.’ Canning moved to the victim’s head and opened the mouth to better show Sean the internal wounds. ‘Do you see?’
Sean moved in closer, unclipping the small torch from his belt and shining the beam of light into the unholy sight that was now William Dalton’s mouth. Deep cuts to swollen gums and gaping holes marked the places where he’d once had teeth. ‘I see,’ he said, and clicked off the torch.
‘Clearly, your killer isn’t the squeamish type.’
‘Psychopaths rarely are,’ Sean reminded him.
‘I suppose not. You think he might have some link to dentistry? Even for a psychopath, the removal of healthy teeth isn’t easy to accomplish – either physically or mentally.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sean answered. ‘Perhaps if he’d only taken the teeth I’d consider it more likely, but with him taking the fingernails as well …’
‘But you’ll check anyway,’ Canning said, with another grin.
Sean nodded and gave him a faint, sad smile.
‘Your initial thoughts then, Inspector?’ Canning asked. ‘If he has no special affinity for teeth, or nails for that matter, why did your killer go to such lengths to take them?’
‘Souvenirs,’ Sean told him.
‘But surely there must have been easier souvenirs to take? The victim’s personal belongings, for example.’
‘Not intimate enough for this one,’ Sean explained. ‘He needs the ultimate reminder of his victims – parts of their body. At the same time, he wants something he can keep forever. So he took their teeth and nails.’
‘I see,’ Canning nodded, keen for Sean to continue with his insights.
‘At the same time, he’s showing us his strength,’ Sean added. ‘Showing us what he’s prepared to do to achieve what he wants. Where he’s prepared to go. A challenge, if you like.’
‘A challenge to you?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe to someone else.’
‘Someone else?’ Canning pressed, intrigued.
‘The lack of defensive marks interests me,’ Sean said, keen to move on. ‘Neither victim had a single mark.’
‘In each case a blow was administered to the back of the head,’ Canning explained. ‘Not with sufficient force to kill them, but enough to render them unconscious or to incapacitate them while the killer inflicted the fatal wounds.’ Sean shook his head and frowned. ‘Something bothering you, Inspector?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘That just doesn’t feel right.’
‘What exactly?’ Canning asked.
‘This one wouldn’t want them unconscious,’ he explained. ‘He’d have wanted them to know what was happening, to know that he was going to kill them. He would have wanted to look into their eyes and see the terror. Ideally, he would have wanted them to be alive when he took their teeth and nails. He wanted them to feel his power.’
Canning cleared his throat. ‘Have you considered that he might have inflicted the fatal wounds just as they were coming to?’
‘It’s a possibility,’ he answered, sounding unconvinced. ‘But why the first wound to the throat? It wasn’t necessarily fatal. Why take the trouble to cut through the front of the throat and then follow up by cutting through the side of the neck and the carotid artery? Why not administer the fatal wound straight away?’
‘Maybe it was the other way around,’ Canning suggested. ‘Maybe he killed them quickly with the severing of the carotid artery and then slit the throat.’
‘But in that case, why slit the throat at all?’ Sean asked himself more than Canning.
‘He derived pleasure from mutilation?’ Canning offered.
‘No,’ Sean dismissed it. ‘The mutilation to the fingers and mouth was coincidental, a side effect of removing his trophies. Mutilation after death’s not what this one is about.’
‘Certainly it would have been difficult for either victim to have screamed or cried for help once the trachea had been dissected. Maybe he wanted their silence.’
Canning’s words set Sean’s mind on fire as he cursed himself for not having seen it himself – the victims trying to scream, to call for help, but only able to make sickening gurgling sounds as the air from their lungs mixed with the blood from their wounds.
‘That’s why no defence wounds,’ he announced. ‘He cut their throats so he could