Fetish ~ Sinclair V-Log BY915/M

By Merita King

We all have dirty little secrets, don’t we?

When Sam Sinclair is called home to help solve the murder of a fellow law enforcer, he assumes the motive was revenge. Within hours, this case quickly becomes everything but straightforward. As the evidence points to deviance of the most horrific kind, they realise that a new breed of killer is stalking the streets of Sam’s home city. Fear grips the people of Alimenika and even the most hardened of criminals are terrified into silence.

A fetish is just harmless fun, until someone dies of course and as more victims come to light, Sam and his team must delve into the darkest side of man’s nature before they can hope to stop this monster’s reign of terror. Swept along by the most unsettling case of his career, the killer’s insidious influence makes Sam doubt himself as never before.

As his personal life is turned upside down, he suddenly becomes the killer’s latest plaything. Unable to free himself and battling the rising panic, the accusation of his own deviance forces him to examine his actions during those terrible four hours, almost twenty years ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Merita King
• Release date: Jun 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310267079

Merita King

Ever seen that movie, Secret Window with Johnny Depp? If ever you want to know what I’m like when I’m writing, think of that movie. That’s me, right down to the tattered bathrobe, unkempt hair and home like a hurricane victim. Everything stops when I’m writing/editing/formatting, I give it my whole attention. I would love to be one of those tidy writers, but I can’t, I’m an all or nothing gal.Science fiction has been a passion for me since I was a kid, largely motivated by my mother’s love of the genre. Having grown up on a diet of Star Trek and Blake’s 7, further fuelled by my parents’ addiction to the physics of outer space, it was a foregone conclusion that I would grow up to be a sci fi nut. You are far more likely to find me watching a programme about how black holes work, than reality tv.My dreams are big, and I believe that everyone should aim impossibly high. Although you might not quite reach the stars, if you just aim for the ground, you’ll only hit the ground. I believe in destiny and pre-destination, reincarnation and alternate dimensions, human life being the result of alien experimentation, and bacon as a remedy for all ills.I love to laugh but a joke must be clever as well as funny to make my lips quiver. Billy Connolly and George Carlin are my comedic heroes; you can keep your custard pies and banana skins.Writing has proved to be the making of me in many ways. It has forced me to upgrade my vocabulary and knowledge, and it allows my naturally observant nature to be of positive benefit. Finally, as the Autumn years of my life begin, I now have a way to get my voice heard and my inner self flying to the stars where she has always wanted to be. I invent worlds, terraform them to my own design, and populate them with people of my own imagining. I cannot change the world I live in, and I cannot leave it for somewhere more comfortable, so I invent my own spend as much time in them as I can.You are welcome to visit my universe. Take a chance and catch a flight today, you may just find you never want to return.

Book preview

FETISH

Sinclair V-Log BY915/M

by Merita King

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Published by Merita King at Smashwords

Copyright © Merita King 2015

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these fictional characters and actual persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this e-book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover photo – zzizar. Cover design by J.L Stratton

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DEDICATION

For Teresa Johnson. A woman of vision and wisdom, without whom this story would never have seen the light of day.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

OTHER WORKS BY MERITA KING

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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CHAPTER 1

This is Sinclair V-Log BY915/M, data log reference point 73758396/2648, Sam Sinclair commencing report.

Ever wondered just how high the cost of your job can be? Do you ever think about whether your job takes a toll on you emotionally? Neither did I, at least not until I was given the job I am going to tell you about now. Everyone knows that working in law enforcement is dangerous and most of the time we never question whether we will make it home today or not. We just get on with it. In the back of our minds, we know there is always the chance we might not survive the day, but it tends not to occupy our thoughts too much. Truthfully, the turnover of law enforcers is high, especially among freelancers like myself and the average length of service stands at six years and seven months. Unfortunately, law enforcers are far more likely to die on the job than retire from it. I have been working for the Inter-Galactic Law Enforcement Agency for twenty years and I have been freelance for eleven of those, so I have tripled the average length of service and then some. I am well aware how lucky I am but I refuse to allow it to keep me awake at night. Thinking about it objectively, we cannot spend every day wondering if today is the day we get the one-way ticket; we would not be able to do the job effectively. Speaking personally, I am more aware than most as to the potential cost of this job, I’ve lost two loved ones already and I’ve been in danger more times than I can remember. It was during this job that for the first time in my career, I truly believed I would die. If I had known beforehand the level of evil I was to encounter, I cannot say I would have taken the job.

I was on my way to the Wixian System to find an escaped inmate from Losmithian Penitentiary, when my boss, Tinnias Vaylo, called me. We have known each other since I joined the Agency, he is like a father to me and I knew the moment he spoke that there was a problem.

Hi, Sam.

The worried tone in his voice caught my attention and I frowned. Hi, Boss. What’s wrong?

Can you come home?

Come back? Sure, I can if you say so. What’s the problem, c’mon don’t hold out on me.

Something awful has happened and you’re my best man. I would feel much happier having you help us sort this out. One of our detectives has been murdered.

What? Who?

Detective Kevrel Doel. You might not know him that well; he’s been in the job for seven years. You will have spoken to him though; he takes his turn manning the Unicom desk.

The name rang a vague bell and I scanned my memory. Isn’t he the one everyone calls The Keen Eye Guy?

That’s him, yeah. It’s funny you should talk about his nickname actually. Whoever killed him obviously didn’t appreciate his eye for detail.

How come?

Because his eyes have been burned out.

What the fuck? Burned out, are you shitting me?

Unfortunately not. It’s been a while since we had anything this weird here.

I shuddered at the thought of what Detective Doel must have suffered. Who would want to burn out a man’s eyes? It has to be a vengeance killing.

That’s what we’re thinking at the moment too. We’re working our way through all his past cases in the hope of finding something significant. Hopefully by the time you get back here, we’ll have something to offer you in the way of a lead.

I’m turning around now. I’ll be back home in four days.

I appreciate this, Sam. See you soon.

That call brought me closer to true evil than I ever want to be again, but when Tinnias asked me for help I did not hesitate and headed home to Sigma Prime. Four days later, I settled my ship, who I affectionately call Essy, down on to the rooftop landing pad of the Agency Headquarters and raced downstairs. I had not been home for five months straight and it was with genuine warmth that we embraced as I entered his office and sat down.

Any updates for me?

I’m afraid not, Sam. This is one of the weirdest cases I’ve ever been involved with.

Is the scene still intact? I’d like to see it if I can.

I knew you’d want to so I’ve had the place sealed up tight and waiting for you. The guys have done the job and Kevrel’s body is in storage, but the scene has not been touched since our guys finished with it.

Thanks. So you’ve not identified any suspects at all?

Tinnias shook his head. No. It’s maddening. Something like this screams vengeance doesn’t it? You said it yourself, but do you think we can find a likely suspect from amongst all his cases? Every single person he put away is either dead, locked up, emigrated, going straight, or has an iron clad alibi.

So have you checked into some of the other officers’ cases? This may be vengeance from one of theirs. Did he have a particular friend here at the Agency?

Everyone is going through their old cases, don’t worry. Kevrel was best friends with Jerish Nayslo. They often partnered up on jobs so we’re going through his cases with a fine tooth comb too.

How is Nayslo? Does he have someone to be there for him?

He’s taking a short leave of absence. I don’t want him involved in this, Sam, it’s not right, so he’s being cared for at home with his parents and brothers under the care of the Agency Psych Counselling Team.

Memories of my own experience when my ex-partner Ren was murdered flooded my mind and I felt emotion prick at my eyes. The Agency’s Team are brilliant and I was relieved that Nayslo was being properly cared for while he came to terms with losing his friend. That’s good.

If this brings it back too much for you, say so and you can work in the background.

No it’s okay I’m fine. Just because it reminds me, doesn’t mean I can’t go there. The memories I have, they umm, they’re good ones y’know?

Tinnias nodded. I know. If ever you need time out, you say so okay. And talk to me. Don’t be burdened with shit when I’m here.

Thanks. Now, I’m gonna race back to my apartment and unpack, take a shower, have some lunch and then I’ll come back and see what passes for a spare office around here.

I’m sure we can find you a few square feet of floor space somewhere. I grinned and turned to leave, but Tinnias called me back just as I opened the door. Sam? Welcome home, it’s good to see you again.

It was good to be back in my own home again and I was delighted to find Sondray, my cleaning woman, had aired the place, stocked my kitchen and laundered all the clothes she knows I usually wear when at home. My ship is my home while I am at work, often for months at a time, so I do not get home as much as I would like. When I do, I like to be able to relax there so I have spent some money on the place. After taking a shower, I cooked the pie I found in the food cooler unit she had left for me. She is a diamond and looks after me like a doting wife. Not only had she fully restocked my kitchen with food, but she had remembered to get in a supply of my favourite Kambino beer and cooked me a Tusselitch Pie. This is my favourite food and takes its name from the famous Sigma chef, Tusse Litchelin who first came up with the recipe. I had not had Tusselitch Pie since the last time I was home and I bit into the crispy pastry and sighed with delight as the flavours of rich meat and piquant spices danced upon my tongue.

Now I was relaxed and ready to face the demands of the case and as I followed Tinnias along the corridor of the Agency Headquarters, I hoped to nail this asshole to the flagpole atop the Agency building within a week.

We’ve made some space for you in here, Sam. It’s not much but it means you’re close to me and the team I’ve set up. Come on, let’s go meet them.

We entered one of the bigger meeting rooms and memories of my time working in this very building flooded back to me. I had attended countless briefings in this very room and all the others like it and my memories were mostly happy ones. Eight faces looked up when Tinnias and I entered, three of whom I recognised.

A thin man with a huge grin came towards me with open arms. Welcome back, Sam. It’s been too long since I had to put up with the sight of your ugly face.

I laughed aloud as we embraced. I love you too, Lowen.

Another grin, this one forcing me to look up to it, approached me. Dorny Kowlen is six feet eight inches tall and an imposing sight. It’s been too long, man. Hell you stink.

I laughed again as I remembered the time I fell into a decomposing body that had been discovered in waste ground. It had lain undisturbed for several weeks and when Dorny and I went to investigate it, I slipped on some body fluids and ended up face first in the soupy mush. It took seven hot showers with Combi-Scrub, supplied by the forensic team for just this sort of accident, to rid myself of the smell and Dorny teased me about it ever since. Good to see you again, Dorny.

The ass that wiggled towards me was a little wider across, but that frivolous cheekiness was still there as the red headed woman grinned and hugged me. I squeezed her close and lifted her off the floor as she chuckled in that cute way that makes everyone smile. Like a laughing little girl, Vayna Relsen’s chuckle is famous in the Agency Headquarters and everyone tries to mimic her, but only because they love her. Everyone loves Vayna and Vayna loves everyone. That chuckle has the power to lift you out of the deepest despair and the strength of the hug that often accompanies it, makes you feel loved no matter what you might have done.

I’ve missed you, Vayna. It’s gonna be so good to hear that chuckle again. It’s worth coming home just for that.

Just like old times huh, Samelan. I bet I can still drink you under the table too.

I bet you can.

Tinnias introduced everyone I had not met before and outlined what we knew, which was precious little. Okay guys this is what we have. Six days ago, Detective Doel signed in to work at seven for his twilight shift. There was the usual batch of traffic violations, drunks, a couple of thefts, and two missing people reported. Detective Doel went out to follow up after we got a call about a prowler hanging around the orphan home in Keshlin District, to the north of the city. He never returned to duty that night. The next day, we got a call that a body had been discovered at the top of Skell Tower, tied to one of the viewing telescopes. It was clear that his eyes had been removed in some way, but the post mortem told us his eyes had been burned out. Whoever did this had used a long thin weapon that burned through his eyeballs, through the back of his eye sockets, and into his brain.

I closed my eyes and tried not to acknowledge the images that were now burned into my memory. Those images will stay with me for the rest of my life. Shit.

Tinnias continued, as if he thought that perhaps I was not already shocked enough by what happened to Detective Doel. Our forensic doctors tell us he would’ve taken several minutes to die. The full post mortem report is here in the file, along with the forensic report from the scene.

Has there been any information at all?

Not exactly information no. There has been one slightly odd development though. It might not be related but it is strange so we can’t ignore it. Since news of this got out, crime in this city has fallen by sixty seven percent.

This was indeed strange and I frowned. Really? That’s weird. You think maybe the criminal fraternity is scared of this guy?

Tinnias shrugged. Maybe.

Dorny stood. Or perhaps it’s a sign of deference.

Tinnias nodded. That’s a valid suggestion too.

What do the Agency’s criminal contacts say about this?

Lowen shrugged. They’re saying nothing. Not a thing. Whenever you ask them about it, all you get in response is a wide-eyed look and a brush off. If anyone knows anything, they don’t want to tell us.

Or they’re scared to, Vayna said.

Dorny nodded towards Vayna. I agree with you, Vayna. I think they’re scared to tell us what they know. This guy has got the whole of the Alimenika criminal community scared out of its wits.

Then let’s hope we can use that to our advantage.

Tinnias raised his eyebrows questioningly. How do you mean?

If this guy scares them so much, maybe they will work with us to get rid of him so they can have their city back. Another thing is weird too. You say a prowler was reported at the orphan home in the Keshlin District?

Tinnias nodded. That’s correct.

I frowned. That’s the posh end of town.

Not the kind of crime the upper classes usually get involved in. Lowen shrugged and I nodded.

I know, that’s what I was thinking.

So you’re assuming the prowler report is connected to Doel’s murder, Vayna said.

I’m assuming nothing. I’m saying it’s weird having a prowler reported in the Keshlin District, so I’m noting the possibility that it might have been called in as a lure.

Vayna nodded. Good point.

Tinnias stood. You’re in charge, Sam. These guys here all volunteered to work this with you, so put them to work how you see fit. I trust you. Anything you need, just ask. I’ll keep myself informed of what you’re all doing and I’ll remind you to keep me in the loop etcetera, but otherwise I won’t be a nuisance. Not too much of one anyway. Doel was a damn fine Law Enforcer and he didn’t deserve to die the way he did. We’re gonna get justice for him, yes?

Hell yeah. The shout rang through the meeting room as all ten of us verbalised our pledge.

Now I have to meet with city officials. We haven’t had a crime of this nature in a long time and everyone is spooked. Some city bigwigs are worried that it might be bad for business and as the tourist season is under way, they want some reassurance that the Agency has the situation under control.

Do we? Dorny asked the question we all wanted to ask.

Tinnias shrugged. Well I certainly don’t feel in control, do you? For a moment, he seemed to age before my eyes. The shadows under his eyes darkened, his shoulders hunched a little more under the burden of the job and he looked tired. I wondered how long it was since he had a holiday and promised myself that I would find out, next time he invited me to dinner with his family, as he always did when I was home.

Skell Tower soared into the sky and for a moment, seemed to point the way to the answer. Yeah, I might as well pray, I nodded. A tightening deep in my gut told me that this job was going to be one of those that went down in history for all the wrong reasons and I shivered. My intuition was yelling at me to run away, but my law enforcer’s mind was telling me to get on with it and sort it out. Some asshole had taken down one of our own, one of Sigma’s finest and I was damn sure going to get justice for him. I gazed up at the narrow spike, the flat circular restaurant at its one hundredth floor still and quiet. Its leisurely orbit around the Tower’s central spike temporarily halted while the Agency controlled the building. Skell Tower Sky Diner offers patrons the best view of Alimenika, its revolving orbit ensuring no part of the city goes unseen. The viewing terrace that encircles the spike just underneath the restaurant contains seating for those wishing to spend time just admiring the view. For those wishing to take a closer interest in the view, telescopes are spaced around the safety fence at regular intervals. Slip a two-bit into the slot and you get ten minutes at the scope, a two-bit being the lowest denomination coin on Sigma.

I nodded to the officers on duty outside the entrance to the tower and flashed my freelancer’s tag when they tried to stop me entering the building. This document identifies me as an officially licensed Freelance Law Enforcer and tells everyone that I am recognised by the Inter-Galactic Law Enforcement Agency as one of their representative agents. In my job as a chase, catch, and deliver guy, my tag is a master key to everywhere, opening every door there is.

The officer nodded and handed it back. My apologies, Sir, I didn’t recognise you. We were told you would be taking over the case.

No problem, you’re doing your job just fine. Is the elevator working?

Yes, Sir.

Well that’s one bit of good news today. I stepped inside and headed over to the elevator. It had been a very long time since anyone had called me Sir and embarrassment quickly followed my moment of pride. As a brand new Law Enforcement Officer twenty years ago, I was just as eager to please those with way more experience than myself in the hope they might pass on some helpful wisdom. As the elevator whooshed me up to the top of Skell Tower, I felt the weight of my position as Lead Investigator. When one of our own dies in the line of duty, everyone expects us to close the case in good time, but something told me that this case was going to push the whole of the Sigma Headquarters Team to the limit.

The elevator door opened with a ping and I stepped out and nodded at the officer who greeted me. After nodding at my Tag, he handed me a pair of leggings. These garments are all-in-one boots and pants and must be worn by all law enforcement personnel when at the scene of a crime until the forensic team have finished. The single use garments are bagged and tagged when the officer leaves the scene, so that any possibility of vital evidence being destroyed, or the scene itself being contaminated, is reduced. Although this particular crime scene had been through the proper procedure, it had been preserved for me and could not be signed off until I said so. Besides, I had no desire to flout the usual safeguards that might allow a killer to go free.

Good to meet you, Detective Sinclair. Here’s a pair of leggings for you, gloves and a hood. I’ll bag and tag when you leave.

His calm efficiency told me he was an experienced officer and his presence soothed my nerves. Thank you umm, what’s your name?

Detective Rayle. Yammet Rayle when I’m off duty.

I guess you drew the short straw guarding this place huh?

Oh it could be worse. I might’ve been outside the front like Denk and Harlush. At least I’m inside and the view is fantastic. I like the quiet of it up here too. It gives me time to think and meditate.

Y’know, I’ve never actually been up here before. Even though I’ve lived in Alimenika my whole life I’ve never been up here.

Never?

I shook my head and shrugged. Never. I guess when it’s on your doorstep, you tend to overlook it in favour of more exotic stuff.

Oh you’ve missed a real treat. You should have a meal here one evening, there’s no finer cuisine in all of Alimenika.

I nodded. I might just do that.

I walked the short corridor slowly and entered the Sky Diner Restaurant. The darkened space was spooky as I padded silently into the huge room. Being a bit of a perfectionist, I had insisted my visit to the scene take place at the approximate time the killer had been there. I wanted to see the scene as he saw it, feel what he felt and, I hoped, understand him a little more. The night breeze rushed in through the opened doorway that led onto the ramp down to the viewing terrace, billowing the tablecloths and I shivered with unease. There was no way into the Sky Diner other than the way I had come, so I knew I was standing on the same spot on which the killer had stood. Knowing I was seeing what he saw, I allowed my eyes all the time they needed to observe thoroughly, but it looked like nothing more than what it was, an empty restaurant. There was nothing odd about the place that caught my attention at first. No curious arrangement of cutlery and no messages scrawled in wine on napkins like in all those old movies. Knowing the place had been thoroughly processed by the forensic team meant I did not have to look for clues or evidence left behind, but I did anyway.

Then I noticed two things out of place. The most obvious was a chair tipped over near the open doorway to the viewing terrace. It had fallen sideways, with its tall back now pointing towards the open door and I noticed it was the closest chair to the door. It had probably been knocked over by the killer, most likely as he hauled or dragged Doel’s body through the arrangement of tables towards the door. Less obvious was the arrangement of the tables themselves. Flipping the pages of the file, I studied the Sky Diner floor plan. It showed that the tables were arranged to allow for the maximum number of patrons, with the minimum space between. Being a circular building, the tables were arranged in a series of four interlocking rings. Each table was spaced a table width apart from its neighbours and the tables in the rings either side, slotted into the gaps. This gave maximum seating capacity but meant the space between tables was just one person wide. If anyone had their chair too far out, or if an extremely fat person was dining, traversing the restaurant would be awkward.

What faced me as I stood inside the door was a clear path through the tables, leading me straight to the open doorway onto the ramp that led down to the viewing terrace. The Sky Diner has five doors leading onto the ramp, but this open one was the nearest to the single entrance from the elevator. The killer had moved the tables to give himself adequate room to get from the door to the nearest terrace door, but still one chair had been knocked over. That fallen chair bothered me. It seemed careless and I already had the feeling that however this killer might be described, careless would never make the list.

I went back out into the corridor and called to Detective Rayle. Rayle, come and give me a hand here would ya?

Certainly, Sir. Just give me a minute to get some leggings on. Once properly attired in leggings, gloves and hood, Rayle joined me inside the restaurant. How can I help?

Did you know Doel well?

Quite well, as a colleague. We didn’t spend our spare time together or anything but we got on as colleagues.

I nodded. Okay, so how would you say he and I would measure up, side by side?

Rayle frowned. Measure up? In what way?

Was he taller than me, or shorter? Fatter or thinner?

Oh I see. Well umm, at a glance I’d say he was an inch or so taller than you and a good few pounds heavier. He had a solid look about him, if you know what I mean.

"Okay great. Now pretend I’m a dead body. You’ve hauled