Psychic Detective 4 Göran Svenson Examines the Crime Scene on No Name Island By: Jake Preston
This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes recreational, and almost always described explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!
Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com
Chapter 4 Göran Svenson Examines the Crime Scene on No Name Island
Early Thursday morning, the 3rd of July, Tom Preston, Anna Ravitch, and Göran Svenson sat at breakfast when Dudley Nelson—the Deputy Sheriff for Ashawa and the Lake Country— showed up at Wayward Island Lodge and demanded to see "Dmitri Zarvopoulos and David Gabrioli." (He read their names from his notebook.) "What sort of names are they, anyway? Must be foreigners," he said. "Well, well, well, Sergeant Svenson! What brings you to these parts? I've just paid a visit to No Name Island, and a gruesome scene it was, too, a homosexual murder. And I've found evidence of other homosexual activity on the island." He held up the lube-tube, and baggie containing one condom.
"Surely you know that Sheriff Matthews assigned me to be the lead investigator in this case," Svenson said. "I spoke with Dmitri and David last night. I know about your so-called evidence. It has nothing to do with the murders. I hope you left the crime scene intact, Deputy Nelson."
"I tromped around a bit, no more than others," Nelson taunted. "Anyway, I'm here to arrest these lads, Zavoo-whatsis and the Angel Gabriel, as being concerned in the murders."
Anna Ravitch wondered if the Deputy was already drunk at this early hour. He had been known to carry a flask in his jockey-box. Quietly she left the restaurant. She hustled upstairs to Dmitri's room and told the boys to exit the Lodge by a fire-escape ladder. She met them on the ground below, and led them through the wooded path to the home of Ben Hasek and Sam Black Bear. "We must find a way to keep these boys out of Nelson's reach," she told Black Bear. "Take them to Dark Eagle's home in Crane Lake."
Meanwhile, Sergeant Svenson argued with Nelson. "The murders took place last summer or spring, maybe earlier," he said. Dmitri was in Peugeot Sound, Washington, and David was in Seaside, South Carolina, at that time. They found the bodies, but there's no way that they could have been involved in the crimes."
"Hah! A homosexual cult murder, on an island visited by homosexuals who party and commit murder, and you say they're not involved? No doubt they are part of the homosexual agenda, and that includes conspiracies and cults. They probably came here because of the cult. Homosexuals breed cults instead of children. Cults breed conspiracies, and conspiracies result in ritual murders. That's the connection. If they didn't do the murders themselves, they know who did. They probably cavorted with the culprits. My interrogation methods will get the information out of them, you'll see!" Deputy Nelson said.
"No Name Island is my crime scene, and these murders are my case," Svenson said. "If your interference persists, I'll have you arrested for obstruction."
"You're not my superior, Svenson. You're only a Detective Sergeant. You can't arrest me," Nelson said. "I'm sure Sheriff Matthews will see things my way when I interrogate these boys and acquaint him with the facts."
Tom glanced out the window and saw Sam Black Bear's car drive by, with Mrs. Ravitch riding shotgun. Dmitri and David had ducked for cover in the back seat. "Deputy Nelson," he said, "you can check their rooms if you wish. I haven't seen them yet this morning."
"Yeah, sleeping in after another night of pre-version," Nelson scowled. He brandished two pairs of handcuffs.
"Handcuffs for witnesses? I must protest," Svenson said.
"Third floor," Tom called to Nelson as he clambered up the stairs. His mood had not improved when he came back empty handed.
"So where are they, Svenson?" he scowled.
"You made so much noise coming in, Deputy Nelson, that I suppose they heard you and flew the coop, as any innocent person would do," Svenson said, calmly. "In the meantime, since you won't recognize my authority, you'll understand why I don't recognize yours. I suggest that you take any complaints directly to Sheriff Matthews."
Nelson stomped out of the Lodge, his face beet-red. From his patrol car he called for an all-points bulletin on "Zoo-whatsisname and Angel Gabriel." His secretary asked for a description of the fugitives. All he could say was "Look for a pair of fairies." He went back to the Lodge and demanded a description. Sergeant Svenson had already taken a boat to No Name Island, Tom said. He refused to say more.
Göran Svenson pulled his boat up the same smooth rock that Dmitri and David used the day before. He walked along the shore, reconnoitering the island. He found the lichen-covered ledge, and the mossy hollow below. He pocketed a half-used condom. "It's a good thing Nelson was too unobservant to find this," he thought to himself. He heard a motorboat. It was Tom, ferrying Detective Inspector Harvey Winik.
"So you beat me to the crime scene, Sergeant," Winik said.
"Not at all," Svenson replied. "I've been walking the shoreline while waiting for you. I thought it best that we view the crime scene together, since you have more experience in this sort of thing. We should let Tom come with us. He's lived on Lake Ashawa since before we were born, and he knows the island. Deputy Nelson was here earlier this morning."
"Dudley Nelson? When did he get back in office?" Winik asked.
"About a year ago," Svenson said. "The real question is: how did he get back in office?"
"On that we agree," Winik said.
"I think you'll find that we agree on many things, Sir," Svenson said. He called Tom Preston. Svenson and Winik waited for him on the smooth-rock landing on the north side of the island, and looked it over for signs of intruders. Svenson noticed a cluster of ferns, some of them bent or crushed. "This looks like a path for two," Svenson said. "It could have been two perps, or it could have been Dmitri and David."
Tom was intrigued by the way that Winik and Svenson looked at the three skeletal corpses when they reached the clearing in the center of the island. The gruesome panorama didn't shock them. Dispassionate, they gazed at the scene in sections while Svenson relayed details on his cellphone, directly to Sheriff Matthews's office in Duluth. His words would be transcribed and sent back to him in Ashawa. Inspector Winik took photos to accompany Svenson's narrative: "Thursday, July 3, 2014, 8:02 AM, No Name Island, Lake Ashawa, in a clearing at or near the center of the island, about five miles northeast of Wayward Island Resort. Victim number one: five-foot-eight skeletal male suspended face-down, by three eight-foot lengths of three-quarter hemp. Both wrists tied with rope number one, attached to a white pine ten inches in diameter. Right ankle tied with rope number two, attached to a white pine eight inches in diameter. Left ankle tied to rope number three, attached to a birch eight inches in diameter. Legs of victim number one are separated by a forty degree angle. Corrugated steel rod runs through the pelvis, along the spine, and up to the throat area of victim number one. Note: the corrugated rod was not mentioned in witness report. It probably was stolen from a local construction site."
"You spoke to the witnesses?" Winik asked.
"Two college boys who work at the Lodge," Svenson said. "I interviewed them last night. They were waiting for me when I arrived. Note for the record: my witness report will be transcribed and sent this afternoon."
"Could you turn that contraption off for a minute?" Winik asked. Svenson muted the cellphone. "I understand the witnesses have gone missing," he said.
"I wouldn't say that. I'm sure they've gone into hiding, since Nelson was planning to arrest them. He's got it into his head that the homicides are part of a homosexual cult of some sort. He thinks that the college boys were part of it. Imagine that, for a crime committed a year ago, at a time when they were living on opposite sides of the country."
"Well, Nelson's a fool," Winik said.
"Earlier this morning, Nelson came to the Lodge and bragged about he would beat a confession out of the college boys. He wants to upstage the investigation by handing Sheriff Matthews a confession, or rather, two confessions patched together to make a composite narrative. While he was going on about this, the boys ducked out. Nelson wanted me to help him hunt them down, but my job was to get to this island before the crime scene gets run over by tourists, as will probably happen tomorrow."
"Our only witnesses..." Winik said.
"Not to worry; they'll turn up when we need them. But we need to keep Nelson away from them. If he scares the crap out of them they won't tell us anything useful. In any case, I don't put much stock in confessions, especially confessions made during an interrogation," Svenson said.
"Just when we were starting to get along," Winik scowled, but his remark was intended as ironic humor. Sergeant Svenson was notorious in the Sheriff's Office for poking holes in confessions. A confession is just an evidential artefact, like a detail in a crime scene', he used to say. Just as a crime scene can be contaminated by unwelcome intruders, a confession can be contaminated by an interrogator, or by a panicky witness. The more aggressive the interrogator, the more contaminated the confession'.
"I wonder if we could prevail on Nelson to check out local construction sites for corrugated rods that match to our crime scene?" Svenson asked. "At least we'd know one location where the culprits had been."
"Can you turn that thing on and move on to victims two and three?" Winik said.
Svenson unmuted the cellphone. "About ten feet south of victim number one," he continued, "a fire-pit consisting of eight stones, no, make that nine stones in a circle, possibly for ceremonial use. Hypothesis: a fire was built to heat the corrugated rod, which then was passed through the anus of victim number one, thrust along his spine and up to his throat, thereby administering as much pain as possible to victim number one."
"Blimey!" Winik exclaimed.
"Hypothesis: the fire-pit signifies South; the victim is suspended pointing North. We might have some ideas about this when the scene has been examined by our two Ojibwe consultants, Shaman Dark Eagle and Red Hawk."
Winik looked at Svenson, astonished. This was the first time he'd heard about civilian consultants, something that always met with disapproval from him. But he was blown away by Svenson's observations, so he kept silent. Svenson continued: "Three feet... Make that three to four feet north of victim number one, north of the skull, six bits of dyed poultry feathers, probable remains of a dime-store Indian headdress. Hypothesis: victim number one was wearing a costume headdress when he was murdered. It might be evidence that the scene was staged to look Native American."
"Well, that enlarges the field of suspects," Winik muttered.
Svenson muted the cellphone and said, "We don't have any suspects. The field is wide open." He unmuted the cellphone and continued: "Victim number one, skull with strands of long dark hair, possibly Native American."
Svenson muted the cellphone again. "Before we move on to victims two and three, let's look again at victim number one. There is something else here that we haven't yet noticed. I can't say why. I just feel that we've missed something."
"Use your powers, Sherlock," Winik said, quoting an old movie.
Svenson placed his index finger on the skull and pressed gently. He moved it away suddenly, as if startled by an electrified shock. "Manitou!" he exclaimed.
` "Manitou, what is that?" Winik asked.
"I'm not sure," Svenson said. "That's what I'm getting: Manitou. Maybe the victim's last thought was a prayer to Manitou, pleading for help. Maybe the victim was staged to impersonate Manitou. Maybe the victim was staged as a parody of Manitou."
"Maybe you're making this up, Sergeant Svenson," Winik said.
"That's possible," Svenson said. "Here we find a victim suspended face-down, as if he was flying northward in the air, and wearing a fake-feathered headdress. Maybe that's what made me think of Manitou."
Winik and Svenson knelt beside the two skeletal bodies on the ground. Svenson continued recording: "Victim number two, prone on his back, arms stretched out, with his skull just below the feet of victim number one. Traces of light brown hair near the skull; this man is a five-foot-eight Caucasian. The bones appear to be picked clean by crows or turkey-vultures. Note to the Crime Lab: look for hair particles, missing teeth, and remains of bird-droppings. Now we're looking at victim number three. Victim number three is positioned face down. His skull rests in the pelvis of victim number two. Bones are picked clean by raptors. Height is about five-foot-six. To judge by dark brown hair particles, he could be either Caucasian or Native American, a male in his twenties."
Svenson lay flat on the ground to examine the skull. "Victim number three appears to have four dental fillings," he said.
"Our first real breakthrough in the case," Winik said.
Svenson continued: "Victim number three: attached to the jawbone of victim number two. The arms of victim number three are stretched outward, in the same position as the arms of victim number two. Please note the presence of a pencil-thin strip of darkened, shriveled skin, possibly the penis of victim number two. Hypothesis: victim number three bit off the penis of victim number two, probably under torture. Both victims had their arms stretched laterally and staked to the ground at the wrists. It is possible that victim number three choked to death on the penis of victim number two."
"What a hideous crime-scene!" Winik exclaimed.
Svenson maintained his clinical composure. He placed an index finger on the skull of victim number three. "Nothing more here," he said. He placed an index finger on the skull of victim number two. "Oh!" he exclaimed. He got up, and stood midway between the skeletons and the fire-pit, facing north.
"You know something else, Sergeant," Winik said.
"Well, I know that victim number two did not die a happy man," Svenson said.
"I could have told you that, Sergeant."
"You're right, there is something else, Inspector," Svenson said. "There are two more bodies on this island, east and west. That's what the arms of victims number two and three are pointing to."
"How can you know that?" Winik asked, skeptically.
"We have to make a thorough search of the island, in any case," Svenson said. "I've hired an anthropologist named Red Hawk to start this afternoon. Just him; I don't want this island tromped over by a troop of amateurs."
"Any general conclusions, Sergeant?" Winik asked.
"We can rule out murder-suicide," Svenson said. "Three males, two Caucasian and one Native American, tortured and murdered by two or more perps. The Indian was killed first. The others were staked to the ground at the wrists and strangled. The torture and murder had Native American and homosexual content or symbolism, but this seems staged, as if it's intended to confuse us."