“Another one?” he asked Hawkins. The rookie, standing to the side with a handkerchief held over his nose and mouth, merely nodded. Mangrin glanced at him with a look of purest disgust. “Why the hell don’t you go throw up somewhere? You keep holdin’ it in and you’re gonna chuck up all over my goddamn crime scene.”
Hawkins nodded and walked away in the direction of the bathroom.
“And don’t touch anything! Better yet, why don’t ya go puke in the bushes outside?” Mangrin yelled. Hawkins nodded again in midstride, turned and made for the front door. He passed Buckley on his way out.
Buckley came and stood looking over Mangrin’s shoulder as he examined the body. Mangrin looked up and shivered. Something about Buckley always gave him the creeps. Maybe it was his enthusiasm over seeing DB’s. Buckley was looking at the mess before them, grinning from ear-to-ear.
“Damm. I wonder how he does it?”
“Siphons, I don’t know.” Mangrin answered. The body was spread out before them, gaping wounds galore, but just like the previous four murders, very little blood.
“Maybe he’s a goddamn vampire!” Buckley exclaimed.
Maybe you’re a goddamn idiot, Mangrin thought. But what the fuck does the perp want with blood? He has to drain it off somehow and take it with him. But why?
Mangrin examined the largest of the wounds, the belly wound, the one that must have caused the vic to do most of the “bleeding out” that eventually killed him. But where the hell was the blood?
Hawkins had come back in and was joined by Sgt. Delaney, looking fine as usual in her tight jeans. Delaney knelt beside Magrin, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Impressions?” she asked.
“He cuts their throats first,” Mangrin said, pointing at the jagged wound. “But he’s a specialist, see. He doesn’t cut to kill…only to incapacitate the vocal chords. No good having a vic scream while you’re trying to have some fun.”
Delaney grimaced. “So what’s his fun, then? Making the other cuts?”
Mangrin nodded. “Especially this one.” He pointed to the slashed stomach.
“He watches them bleed out,” Buckley said. Mangrin nodded and turned to look at him. Buckley was staring wide-eyed at the open stomach flesh of the victim, a look of utter fascination on his face.
Creepy bastard loves this.
“Sal? Any ideas how he takes the blood, and why?” Delaney asked. God, he loved it when she called him Sal.
Mangrin shook his head.
“Do we know of any connections to the other vics yet?” Buckley asked.
“No. It’s all very random. Different sexes, different ages, different races. This guy doesn’t seem to have any preferences.” Mangrin sighed and ran his fingers through his short black hair. It was a nervous habit, still, he saw the Sarge smile out of the corner of his eye and he was pleased.
“Makes him hard as hell to profile,” Delaney said.
“What about blood type? Anybody check that?” Buckley asked.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Buckley. For the last time the perp is not a fucking vampire!” Mangrin was immediately sorry he’d lost his temper with his partner, but the guy was an idiot. Delaney didn’t look happy about his outburst, though.
“Sorry,” he said. “But I don’t think he takes the blood to drink it.”
“Why not?” Delaney asked. “Weirder shit than that happens in this town.”
Mangrin shrugged. “So, we’ll get someone over at CIU to check out the blood types of all the vics.”
They all looked up when the coroner’s gurney was pulled in the front door.
“Tag ‘im and bag ‘im, folks,” Buckley said to the men from the coroner’s office, and even Delaney gave him a dirty look.
End of Part 1.