Raven's Mark: Kate Gardener Mysteries, #4

By Gabriella Messina

A grisly crime scene greets the caretaker as he arrives to feed the ravens at the Tower of London… A young woman, naked and brutalized, her nose pecked by the wily birds like an old nursery rhyme…

When a notorious playboy bursts into New Scotland Yard to claim responsibility for the vicious crime, he begs to be arrested. His confession, and a mysterious tattoo on the victim's body, raise many questions, including who is really behind this crime…

As the media blitz surges on, and new victims are added to the mix, Kate's unique skills put her on the trail of the mysterious Mary Stoner… A brilliant, manipulative, and deadly woman who has her sights firmly set on money, sex, revenge… and Chief Crown Prosecutor Clive Reynolds.

Mary Stoner has danced with Reynolds, and the Met, in the past… will this be their last tango? Or will Kate decipher the secret of the Raven's Mark in time to stop her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabriella Messina
• Release date: Dec 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540188977

Gabriella Messina

Always a spinner of tales, Gabriella Messina’s journey as an author began in the realm of screenwriting. Whether writing fantasy or crime fiction, short stories or full-length novels, Ms. Messina brings a fresh point of view and a snarky wisdom to her work, exploring science, justice, faith and feeling in equal measure. In addition to her creative writing, Ms. Messina helps other authors reach their goals, designing book covers and graphics, and providing proofreading and editing services.  When not writing, she enjoys indulging in her favorite “guilty pleasures”: coffee and chocolate, watching car racing with her son, and spending too much time looking at music videos online.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

15 February 2012

Tower of London

The bitter cold had descended on the city a week ago, and still the news meteorologists were holding out no hope of a thaw anytime soon. As the sun peeked over the walls of the White Tower, early morning shadows crept across the green, and the icy air that had settled in overnight seemed to crackle as it melted quickly in the heat from the sunlight. The ground was crackling, too, and the iridescent shine of the sunlight hitting the icy snow was blinding.

Like diamonds... A carpet of diamonds, thought Yeoman Warder Kevin Makepeace as he crunched across the green, his boots making precise footprints as he stepped carefully along. At times, he felt as if he could walk straight across, like thick ice across a frozen pond. As soon as his full weight was on one leg to step forward, though, his foot would sink down an inch, leaving a perfect boot print, and setting him off balance just enough to make him nervous. He did not want to drop the meat.

Makepeace glanced down at the large bucket he was carrying. Today was a fresh meat day, beef as it so happened, and the lack of odor floating up from the bucket was a welcome respite from the occasionally odoriferous breakfast he brought to his charges. In fact, today’s breakfast resembled a partially-cooked stew, with carrots, marrows, and potatoes mixed in as well.

Another jerky foot planted, and Makepeace struggled to steady himself. An influx of visitors wouldn’t be expected today, to be sure, but fresh blood strewn across the Tower Green wasn’t exactly the best image they wanted to present to tourists snapping photos. As of now, with the exceptions of his own footprints behind him, the interior was clean and white, the snow crusted with ice and untouched by –

Makepeace stopped, a puzzled frown creasing his brow as he looked ahead of him. He could see the aviary... The ravens were awaking, of course, and eager for their breakfast... But something was wrong, and that something began with the spots of red on the snow in front of him. Makepeace’s puzzled frown faded into one of concern. No one else was awake, and even if they had been they would have had no reason to be out here in the yard with the birds. He, Makepeace, was the Ravenmaster, had been for nearly five years, and, except for a brief illness last year, he had cared for them exclusively throughout that time. No one else should have been in the yard.

His next thought was of the birds. Perhaps one of them had escaped, suffering an injury and leaving the drops of blood behind. Makepeace moved forward quickly, trying his best to keep the bucket from sloshing blood or fluids onto the ground as he approached the aviary. The ravens were alert to him, and to their breakfast, but they were all keeping to one side of the enclosure... and for good reason. Makepeace pulled up short as his eyes moved to the far-right portion of the aviary, and the bucket that had been so carefully held to avoid even the smallest spill immediately fell to the ground, dumping the contents across the icy snow.

The ravens watched him as he stared at the body that was occupying their home... All, but one, that is... The largest of the birds, blue-eyed Edgar, was pacing up and down beside the supine form, cackling and muttering as he did, pausing now and then to poke at her with his beak. Makepeace saw clearly now that it was a her, her body naked and badly damaged, with cuts and bruising all over the top and bottom portions of her body. He swallowed hard, trying to fight the bitter taste of bile that was coming dangerously close to the top of his throat. Portions was decidedly the right word, because the body was lying in two halves, though the way it was positioned and aligned it was difficult to tell from a distance. The ground was mostly dry, free of blood and snow because of the overhang that shielded the birds, and what little blood was on the body was iced onto her skin like a macabre freezer burn.

Edgar cackled again, hopping to the face and poking at it. Makepeace tried to speak, but his voice caught, and he was forced to break the crystalline silence of the morning with a very noisy cough.

Edgar! Leave her be! He almost didn’t’ recognize his voice, it was so strangled and strained. Makepeace had a strong stomach... had to if you did his job... Fresh meat was nothing to handle, but organ meats, entrails... and sometimes the odd piece of fresh roadkill... And then the clean-up, when the blood had turned, and the bugs descended... He swallowed hard again, fighting the wave of burning fluid, and looked at the young woman’s face. She was pale, her hair nearly black. Her lips were covered with smeared red lipstick, her eyebrows finely shaped and arched above dead brown eyes. Edgar stepped in, poking at her face again, and Makepeace’s gaze followed him to the spot where Edgar’s beak had just been. Abruptly the battle to keep from vomiting was lost, and Makepeace whirled quickly, trying to get clear of the aviary before he spewed his empty guts out. Thankful that he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, Makepeace stumbled away from the aviary, still retching as he ran to call 999, struggling to banish the vomit-inducing sight from his mind, but all he could think of was the image of her face, and the nursery rhyme...

When down came a blackbird, and pecked off her nose.

1

Tower of London

Kate Gardener stood a few feet from the raven aviary, and the crime scene within. It had been nearly two hours since the call had come requesting her to come to the Tower immediately. The request had been a bit surprising. Ordinarily, when the request for Forensics came in, whoever happened to be at work, and available, was sent out. But when she was called into the interim photo lab supervisor’s office, the fidgety little man had said that the Metropolitan Police supervising the case had requested her by name. Kate had nodded, trying to keep her face impassive even as she was jumping up and down inside. Who could have asked for me?

She had a feeling she knew the answer to that one, and upon reaching the Tower of London, she’d noticed Hagen’s BMW parked near the main entrance which confirmed it. Detective Superintendent Doug Hagen stepped out of the building just as she arrived, his twinkling blue eyes squinting behind dark sunglasses. Even with her own large-framed glasses on, the glare coming off the ice-snow on the ground was fierce. Appreciating their mutual discomfort, Hagen quickly motioned that they should go inside to talk.

I do hope they didn’t call you in on your day off, Miss Gardener, Hagen began, his soothing voice sounding a bit scratchy. It’s just... well, I need your eyes for this one.

Of course. Kate smiled, lowering her glasses slightly to look at him. You alright? Your voice sounds a bit off.

Hagen chuckled. Good ears, too. Touch of flu... Nothing a weekend at home with my wife and a hot toddy or two can’t cure.

Kate nodded. Gotcha. Keep an eye on it... That shit can turn into pneumonia in no time... Trust me. And she knew what she was talking about... She’d felt the tightening in her chest lately a bit more than usual. A combination of stress and the cold had made breathing a bit difficult as of late. She’d even been easing up on the cigarettes...

So, what do you have?

She’s in the aviary.

Kate frowned. The aviary? With the ravens? Ravens were omnivorous scavengers, and depending on how long the victim’s body was with them, they could’ve wreaked havoc on the forensic evidence left behind. Is Monaghan here?

Hagen’s expression darkened. Unfortunately, no. It’s Zielinski. But this is my crime scene... so, you do whatever you need to do. Hagen punctuated the statement with a wink, and gestured for her to follow. They continued through the main entrance gatehouse, and out into the light again. It was not as bright here, a generous depositing of salt ensuring that a good portion of the walkway was free of ice. The cold wind coming off the Thames was broken somewhat by the barrier walls, and Kate gratefully relaxed her shoulders, which had naturally raised and hunched protectively when she stepped outside. It was still bitterly cold, though, and she hoped this wouldn’t take too long... She’d need an IV of coffee to warm her bones.

They made their way around Wakefield Tower and through another gateway, emerging into the inner yard. Kate’s eyes drifted upward, even as they struggled with the increased glare that the snow here provided. In front of them, the iconic White Tower loomed, at once spectacular and stark. Kate longed to photograph it, especially from the opposite side, which would put the modernity of Canary Wharf and its famous gherkin in frame, but it wasn’t the time for that... She hurried to catch up to Hagen.

The aviary was visible up ahead, a four-stall structure beneath the refurbished Wakefield Tower remains. Pale wood and woven wire fencing surrounded the home of the venerable birds, with connecting doorways allowing them to roam between the spaces to socialize, or choose a spot to be alone if desired. Right now, the doors to the far-right stall were closed, and a lone bird occupied it... along with the remains of the victim.

Why is there still a bird in there? Kate asked, her step slowing somewhat. She wasn’t really afraid of birds, but the idea of trying to photograph the scene in such a claustrophobic space was unnerving her already, and having the large bird inside flapping about wouldn’t help.

They couldn’t get him to leave. She and Hagen both turned toward the familiar voice. Detective Constable Paul Owens was bundled up like a Laplander, two large steaming cups of coffee in his hands.

Where’s yours, Paul? queried Hagen, accepting one cup, but waiting to sip until he had an answer from his officer.

Already drank it, sir. Thank you. Owens turned to Kate, offering her the other cup. She tried not to pounce on it too quickly, but realized her failure when she caught Owens smirk. I’m afraid they only had sugar.

That’s fine, thank you. Kate carefully sipped, relishing the burn of the liquid as it hit her tongue. She’d regret that later, but right now it felt good to feel something other than cold. Kate glanced around, taking in the overall scene. Zielinski wasn’t in sight, and neither was...

Sergeant Pierce isn’t here, Miss Gardener. He’s at the Bailey giving testimony.

Nothing serious, I hope. Kate tried to keep a light note in her comment, but inside she was instantly worried. Detective Sergeant Richard Pierce’s run-ins with lawyers and their associates were rarely good. They seemed to be generally out to get him, and Kate couldn’t imagine why... One of