The Symbolist: The Crawford Chronicles, #2

By Kathleen Lopez

After all Death is a Symbol that there was Life.  ~ Mario Benedetti

Grief is a powerful force, which left unchecked and ignored, can fester, manifesting into unhealthy outputs.  A once rational mind can bend its perception of the world, therefore allowing for what was once taboo to now become acceptable.  The pursuit of finding peace from unending torment can be all consuming until what was lost can be explained.  The end will always justify the means, right? When a tragedy sets off a disturbed man's quest to find the good in the world, Detective Crawford is left trying to piece together the remnants of several murder cases, each tied together with a symbol.  Trying to find the link or pattern to stop the killings proves difficult, since the detective is blissfully unaware, he is chasing down the wrong path.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wordsmith Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958256145

Kathleen Lopez

Kathleen Lopez started writing early on at age 14 as a junior high school journalist; a career she continued with throughout college.  She also had several poems published during her college tenure.  While professionally she has turned from the world of journalism to the corporate world of project management, she has always continued with her passion for writing short stories and poetry.  Suspenseful thrillers, mysteries and stories that took the reader along for the journey have always been amongst her favorite to read as well as write.  Prodigal Son is a follow up to her first publication, Between the Shades of Light and Dark.

Book preview

The

Symbolist

Copyright © 2023 by Kathleen Lopez.

ISBNs

Softcover 978-1-958256-13-8

eBook 978-1-958256-14-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023917076

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

Rev. date: 2/7/2024

To Nicole...

for advocating that no one story ever really stands alone.

Contents

Prologue...........................................1

Chapter One........................................5

Chapter Two.......................................31

Chapter Three......................................59

Chapter Four.......................................85

Chapter Five........................................109

Chapter Six.........................................133

Chapter Seven......................................157

Chapter Eight.......................................181

Chapter Nine.......................................203

Chapter Ten........................................221

Chapter Eleven......................................241

Epilogue...........................................263

Prologue

Note to self – moving forward, get better gloves.

After the third time he had to stop and adjust the clear plastic ones he was wearing, the mental note was made.  They had seemed suitable, but in practical use, as it were at the moment, they were not as form-fitting as he would have liked.  Having gloves that were slightly larger than his hands made getting his task done a bit more tedious than planned.  The bagginess was starting to interfere with the intricate carving he was trying to complete on her upper thigh.

The designs he chose now too would be something he would have to rethink in the future.  While he liked how the image looked on paper for all the records collected for her file, having something so elaborate was hard to duplicate with his exacto knife.  He was thankful that she had provided him with an ample canvas to make the image slightly larger to transfer the design fully.  He had a limited window to finish his carving, but it had to be perfect, so he had to make every movement count.  Each line and drag of the blade had to be perfect and deliberate.  There was no correcting a bad stroke.  This canvas would not be that forgiving, just like him.

He remembered when he’d chosen this design for her.  It was after seeing her in a flowing sundress one sunny afternoon when he’d first noticed her.  That day, she had momentarily allowed a large butterfly to land on her hand.  He’d noted how delicate she was with the butterfly as it had rested on her hand.  He knew once he saw it that it would be her symbol.

How long ago was that moment was from right now.  He held so much promise for her.  She was the epitome of light and air.  She seemed so full of morality.  She was pleasant and helpful to others, what he had hoped to find in someone.  He had never imagined she would disappoint him, like so many others had done.  She was going to be different.  Her fall from his grace had been hard.  He had thought she was the one, the one who would complete his mission.  She was to be the litmus to base all others upon.  But sadly, she had fallen short.  She was no longer of value for him.  She no longer met his criteria.  He had no more use for her, so she had become irrelevant.  That was why she lay crumbled on the ground, subject to his artistry.

His work was now finished.  He looked over his completed carving.  He was pleased.  This chapter was now closed.  Her file was now complete.  He stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the symbol.  It was clean and precise.  There was no blood to muddy the crispness of the design, as the light that had once shown in her eyes was long extinguished.  His process of retiring her from his mission removed that complication from this final step.

He took a step back to admire his handiwork.  He sighed in contentment and allowed a small smile of satisfaction to cross his face.  He turned and walked away from her, leaving her body exposed and alone in the alley, the carved butterfly symbol visible for whoever discovered her, come morning light.

Chapter One

Death takes a holiday, or whatever that movie was called; well, that turned out to be a fucking lie now, didn’t it?

The call to the station came in as many others had previously.  A twenty-something had been found hanging under the state bridge, in an area widely known by the police as Neverland.  It was a sad commentary that the police got that type of call more frequently than they cared to count.  It was a popular spot for wayward youth to gather, get drunk, get high, and occasionally, to die.  Periodically, the station would send a patrol just to clear out the area as it was a nice and secluded spot for the local youth to gather to smoke and drink.  Inevitably, the police would come across a partier who had had his last party.

Officers often found all sorts of drug paraphernalia upon their routine clear-outs of the area.  Needles, pipes, baggies, burnt spoons, and so forth were not uncommon to find in the area under the overpass.  Unfortunately, then, it was not at all surprising that they would come across someone who had overdosed as well.  In fact, it was where the police came to expect to find some young kid who, whether purposely or not, had met their untimely end.

So when the call came across to go down to the alcove under the bridge, it didn’t surprise many at the station.  What was interesting was why it had crossed the desk of Detective Crawford.

I just got through with the last crackpot case we had.  Why call me on this one?  It’s probably just some kid.  It’s always some kid.  I mean, I don’t mean to be dismissive, but aren’t we sending a regular patrol down there with a bus?  The ME doesn’t need me for a simple suicide.  It is just a run-of-the-mill case.

Well, if you weren’t so damn good with the crackpot cases, then I wouldn’t tap you for all those types.

Don’t blow sunshine up my skirt, lieutenant, Crawford scoffed.

"You can’t say I didn’t try.  Besides, the ME asked for you to come down to the scene this time, actually.  Apparently, it’s not just your simple suicide or a run-of-the-mill type of case, as you put it.  He said there was something not so typical about this one and that this was more than, and I’m quoting, a ‘cut down and bag’ situation.  He asked for you by name.  Sorry, but you’ve well established that you are the king of the crackpot cases.  Heavy the head that wears the crown, I suppose," his lieutenant said.

Nice.  Of course, the ME called for me.  Wasn’t that oddball writer case enough? Crawford asked, punctuating his remark with rolling his eyes and a head nod.  I’m not so sure what could be down there that needs a detective to investigate a suicide.  I can tell you from here that the kid hung himself.  If they don’t hang themselves, they OD.  That’s what they do there.

I don’t know, his lieutenant said as he leaned back in his chair.  From what the ME said, just by looking at the scene, it sounds like this guy had help.  It may not have been his own idea to swing as it were.  But you’ll never know unless you get down there.

So not suicide, but homicide.  Okay, that adds a bit more to it now, doesn’t it?  Lead with that next time.

Crawford had to admit now he was somewhat intrigued.  Not so much that he bolted for the door but interested enough all the same to quit griping about it.  The ME knew he liked the interesting cases.  For him to ask for him especially, that told Crawford there was more to it than some depressed kid, looking for a way out.  Crawford left his lieutenant’s office and walked over to his desk, motioning over to his partner.

What’s up? Stevens asked, snagging his coat from the back of his chair as he rose.

Hanging over in Neverland.

Wait, what?  A suicide?  Why are we...

I already asked the lieutenant, and something is just not right with the whole thing.  Harry Hacksaw requested my presence personally.  That alone makes it interesting.

And I’m going with you, why? Stevens asked, following Crawford down the hall towards the door leading to the parking lot behind the precinct.

Well, for starters, you’re my partner.  Second, honestly it would be easier for you to see whatever this is all about for yourself rather than me having to tell you what this is all about when I get back.  We both know you’ll ask about it, anyways.  Besides, the doc thinks someone helped this one, so may not be a suicide.  You can’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious now.

Not sure if curious is the word, but beats sitting at the desk, I suppose.

Crawford threw a smirk over to his partner as they reached the car.

The two detectives took in the sight before them.  As they strolled up to Neverland, they watched the ME and his assistant move about the scene, him taking photos and the assistant capturing taking notes as he spoke.  Crawford threw a side-eye to his partner as he did the same.

He hasn’t taken him down yet, Stevens said to Crawford.  Usually, they’d cut them down by now.

Yeah, that’s certainly not his normal.  He’s usually got them halfway processed by the time police get on scene for these types of cases.  Then again, he usually doesn’t ask for detectives for a hanging.  It is certainly not the typical hanging, for sure.  I guess there is something with our friend here that must be seen as is before Harry does his thing.

Stevens lifted the yellow police tape, allowing Crawford to duck under first before following him.  The two kept pace with each other in practical lock-step, each scanning the scene before them.  As they came within yards of the body, the ME noticed them.

You boys are going to want to see this, he said dropping the camera from his face.  He motioned for them to come up under the overpass.  The body, still suspended from the bottom of the metal girders, hung stark still, facing away from them as they walked up.  It wasn’t until they came right upon the body that Crawford noticed why it was not swaying.  A weight tied dangling from the body’s left foot kept the body from twisting.

That’s new, Crawford said.  Usually no one cares if they twist in the wind afterwards.

Yeah, that’s a little odd, Stevens added.

Crawford and Stevens walked around the body and stood on either side of the ME.

Well, don’t look at me, Dr. Henderson said.  I’m not what’s interesting here.  You two need to look at that.

The doctor raised his eyebrows and nodded his head at the body suspended before them.  The two detectives turned their attention from the doctor and turned to look straight ahead at the body hanging before them.  Slowly, they raised their gazes until they saw what made this case not the stereotypical suicide.

Well, that is certainly different as well, Stevens said.

What is that?  Is that—is that supposed to be a bird? Crawford asked.

It appears to be a crane.  A Grey crowned crane, actually, is my guess, Dr. Henderson said.  An African bird, as a matter of fact.

The two detectives returned their gaze now back to the ME.

What?  I happen to like birds.  That’s what it looks like to me, anyways.  Regardless, I don’t think our friend here carved that into his chest then hung himself.  That’s where this gets interesting, doesn’t it?  Besides, there is no chair or box on which he stood in order hang himself, like we often find in typical hanging cases.  So, that right there helps with the fact that he had help getting up there.  Then there is the lack of coagulated blood around the cuts made to his chest.  As unfathomable as it is to think he would have cut that into his chest first then hung himself, since there is no dried blood around the wound as it were, that indicates he was already dead at the time of the, uh, carving, as it were.  Again, interesting.

Thank God for small favors I suppose, Stevens offered.  Can you imagine being alive while that was carved into you?  Gees.

This cannot be why you didn’t want to cut him down from the overhang, Crawford asked the doctor.  What else are we not seeing here to leave him up there like that?

You’re exactly right.  No.  When we came on the scene, the officers were already blocking things off.  We did our first documentation of the scene.  While taking our photos, I zoomed in on the rope and the neck of the victim.  And I say victim as this is most certainly a homicide, detectives.  And that was determined not because of the chest carving, not at first, anyway.  Again, when I zoomed in to capture the loop of the hangman’s knot, I saw this, the doctor said as he turned over the camera to Crawford.

Crawford took the camera from the ME and used it to motion Stevens to come closer.  The two looked at the small LCD screen of the camera.  The doctor squeezed between the two and pointed to a spot on the victim’s neck.

So, what are we looking at? Stevens asked.

Is that a hypodermic puncture? Crawford asked, squinting at the small image on the camera.

Exactly.  See the tactical bruising around what appears to be a puncture wound?  I will have to run toxicology, but if I was a betting man, I would say that was either to knock him out or take him out.  Again, my bets on the latter, given the carving, but we’ll let the reports tell us more.  There is a cause of death which is not death by hanging here. gentlemen.  There is also a lack of ligament bruising around the rope to point to a sudden drop that often accompanies hanging.  And then there is the carving, which, while highly interesting, is not the most significant factor here, not one that leads to his death.

Wait, doc, you said that the carving was not a factor, not at first.  You don’t call that a significant finding? Stevens questioned.

Well, his shirt was buttoned up when we got here.  Again, while taking photos, I caught a glimpse of the top of the carving.

Can we stop saying carving? Crawford asked.  It’s making my skin crawl.

Getting squeamish there, partner?

Crawford gave his partner a withering look.

I still don’t get why you didn’t cut him down, doc.  You couldn’t cut him down because of a puncture wound?  Couldn’t you see all of that once he’s down on the ground?  We could have seen the puncture wound and ... artwork ... once he was on the ground or a gurney, right? Crawford asked, confused.

Well, there is the weight off his foot I take it you’ve both seen.

Yep.  Saw that, Crawford acknowledged.

He was meant to be seen this way, the ME replied.

I’m beginning to worry about you, doc.

The slight variations in cause of death, the hanging, puncture wound, carving.  Keeping him in this position with the weight, I just thought whoever did this had a reason.  I wanted to make sure you got the whole picture, as it were.  Just in case any of this becomes important later in an investigation.  This was how he was intended to be seen.

Yep.  You’re really worrying me, Crawford said to the doc while handing back the camera.

If you look here, the ME said, circling the body with the detectives in tow.  You can see there is some trace evidence of gravel on his back.  It would appear that once the killer had killed him, they had laid out the body around over here, the doctor said motioning to follow the detectives further into the underpass area.

"This would have been out of view of the roadway and given him plenty of cover while he, sorry, John, but I can’t think of a better word, carved up the victim.  So, what I see here is that he killed him, carved