Vanessa stepped into the grand foyer of the Bowman estate, home of billionaire media mogul, Jerry Bowman. She had read about him: a self-made businessman who started out in the truck business and now owned one of the most influential media outlets in New York. His estate was nestled in the lush folds of the Hudson Valley, a two-hour drive from Manhattan. The mansion loomed over her, and inside, gilded frames housed expensive-looking art in the large foyer.
Detective Harris was waiting for Vanessa in that very foyer. She’d gone back to the lab first to change and collect her kitbag, then headed back out in her truck. ‘It’s pretty bad,’ he said, wrinkling his nose.
Yes, Vanessa could smell the heavy, cloying odour of death already, intensified by the sealed opulence of the mansion.
‘You suspect it’s the housemaid who’s dead?’ Vanessa asked as she followed Harris towards the back of the foyer. Harris had told her what they knew of the case when he'd called her to attend earlier. Vanessa noted several species of adult flies buzzing around the window ledges.
‘Yep, Bowman is at his ski lodge in Switzerland while his wife is visiting her mother, so it’s just been their housemaid here the past two weeks. We’re trying to get hold of him. Judging from the, er, insect activity on the deceased, she’s been dead as long as Cordelia Montgomery.’
‘I see,’ Vanessa said. ‘May I ask her name?’
‘Rhoda Matheson.’
They both walked into a huge kitchen, a vast expanse of gleaming surfaces and professional-grade appliances. Sunlight streamed through the large French doors and windows, framing a view of the snowy landscaped gardens outside. Flies raced around the room as though excited for new company, one landing on Vanessa’s cheek. Vanessa stayed very still, moving her eyes downward so she could discern its species. Predictably, Muscidae, the common house fly. She watched its proboscis – the appendage it used for feeding – probe her skin, a tasting ritual driven by the scent of the sweat beading on her cheek above her mask. She moved slightly and it flew towards Ru, who stood with his arms folded and his gaze fixed grimly on a figure on the floor – the housemaid. She was in an advanced state of decomposition. Her skin, pallid and marbled with the purplish hue of post-mortem lividity, clung to her frame. Even from where she stood, Vanessa could see larvae and adult flies buzzing around her eyes, nostrils and mouth, multiple levels of colonisation allowed to take place since her death, whenever that was.
Vanessa’s eyes found an open door. ‘Was this open when the first officer arrived?’ she asked.
Harris nodded. ‘We found binbags outside. We think Rhoda had just put them out, then collapsed before she had a chance to close the door.’
That would explain the number of flies. Easy access.
A young pathologist was crouched by the body, and alongside Ru stood a woman in a suit, her detective badge attached to her hip.
‘I appreciate you calling us with this, Detective Lynch,’ Vanessa heard Ru say.
‘A death connected to another high-profile figure in this state in forty-eight hours?’ the detective replied. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences.’
Ru looked over at Vanessa. ‘This is the forensic entomologist working the case with us. Mind if she takes a look?’
‘Mind?’ Detective Lynch said. ‘I insist. The forensics guys have already checked her over.’
Vanessa walked over the tread plates and crouched down beside the body.
‘Oh, Rhoda,’ Vanessa whispered as she carefully collected samples from the housemaid’s body, ‘I’m so sorry.’ When she’d finished her task, she focused on capturing a live fly using an entomological net, gently sweeping it through the air around the body to trap it. Once it was in the net, she coaxed it into a vial with a funnel-like top.
‘Those insects give you any sense of time of death?’ Detective Lynch asked Vanessa.
‘I can’t provide times of death estimations,’ Vanessa said. ‘But it’s clear she’s been lying here, deceased, for some time, maybe a week. I’ll know more once I get my samples back to the lab and check the data loggers I’ve set up.’
As she said that, she noticed a chunky gold bracelet loosely circling the woman’s wrist, featuring two species of preserved beetle encased in clear resin. One, a very rare violet click beetle. The other an emerald-green Chrysina resplendens beetle … just like the beetles revered by Professor Alan Regan. Even more reason Ru needed to speak to the professor, something he seemed poised to do before he’d got the call about another murder.
Vanessa instantly stood up, stepping back. ‘I recommend everyone leave the room to avoid contamination.’
The officers in the room all paused what they were doing and looked over.
Ru nodded. ‘Do as the doctor said.’
‘Judging from the looks you’ve all been exchanging,’ Detective Lynch said as she followed Ru, Vanessa and Harris out into the foyer, ‘my instincts are right and this is connected to the other deaths?’
Before Ru could answer, Harris paused by a small table in the hallway. ‘Look.’
He was pointing to a black gift box which lay open on the table’s surface with a stylised dark green and gold beetle silhouetted against the lid … the same logo from the business card and the dark web forum. Inside was a grooved area which matched the size of the bracelet Rhoda was wearing.
‘There’s a note with it,’ Harris said, holding it up with a gloved finger so Vanessa and Ru could read it.
To Jerry,
Happiest of Valentine’s Days.
x
‘Rhoda must have decided to try on her boss’s gift. A fatal error.’ Ru turned to Harris. ‘Did we find any such boxes and notes at Cordelia’s and Maximilian’s places?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Harris replied, ‘but we’re still going through the trash so we might find something.’
‘Jewellery of destruction sent under the guise of a Valentine’s Day gift,’ Ru said.
‘How many more of these “gifts” are circulating out there?’ Vanessa said.
‘And how many more deaths to come?’ Ru added. The room seemed to go quiet, officers pausing. ‘The clock is ticking. And if we don’t get a lead soon, that ticking bomb is going to blow up in all our faces.’