Page 2 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Medical examiner?” Bel heard her question as if it came from someone else’s mouth, pushing through thick waves of fog to reach her ears.

“Should be here any minute,” Garrett answered.

“Has anyone touched the body?” Bel fiddled with the elastic of her gloves. She had transferred to Bajka to escape death, to hide from torture, yet in all her years on the force, nothing compared to what stared down mockingly at her for attempting to outrun life’s horrors.

“No, not since we arrived,” Garrett confirmed. “Violet said she took one look at this and dialed 911. Didn’t even enter the showroom.”

“Has anyone collected any evidence?” Bel was stalling, and she hoped Garrett was oblivious to it. No amount of time could prepare her to step closer, but the lie of ‘just a few more minutes’steadied her.

“No,” Garrett said. “Sheriff Griffin wanted you to take the lead, start to finish. You are the only one with…” he trailed off as if afraid to voice the truth.

“Homicide experience,” she finished for him, and his muscles flinched slightly at her words. He seemed as disturbed as she was, and with a deep breath and the resolve of a thirty-four-year-old New York City detective, Bel squared her shoulders. A brutal attack had not destroyed her. Neither would this horror, and judging by the uncertainty circulating the room, every tech and deputy needed someone to look to for direction. The brutality that had reared its ugly head this morning demanded a performance unlike any in this room had ever given, and if Bel expected the officers to rise to the occasion, she would have to discard the demons clutching at her ankles. To lead the investigation into the torment before them.

“He wants everything done right,” Garrett continued. “Bajka has seen nothing like this.”

“I don’t think anyone has seen anything like this,” Bel said, meeting her partner’s disbelieving eyes, and she gripped his forearm for comfort. Hers or his? She wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to take a look before the M.E. handles the body.” She thanked God her voice didn’t falter as she addressed the crowd. “Then we search and photograph every inch of this room. Make sure you get every angle—wide, medium, and close. Everyone needs to wear protective gear. This didn’t happen by accident. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. We need to document everything. No mistakes. No oversights.”

The few techs and deputies present nodded their understanding, and then Bel stepped into the showroom. The closer she walked, the more the oppressive darkness pushed against her skin, filled her lungs, muddled her brain. There was no mistaking the evil defiling the air. Mankind harbored some of the world’s most savage monsters, and as she drifted closer, Bel knew one such terror had entered her town.

Lumen’s showroom was clean and spacious, the tall windows offering gorgeous natural light. Normally displaying his high-end furniture, the room currently stood bare save for one work of exquisitely terrifying art positioned at the center of the floor. Rising taller than Garrett, beautifully sculpted wood and twisted metal rose from the ground on a sturdy base before it branched out into a nest of multiple curved candlesticks, radiating out from all sides of the body. Wax dripped down from the puddled remains of thick, white candles, and a wide candlestick protruded from the center to complete the structure. A Chandelier. And while most light fixtures of this design hung from the ceiling, this carving rested atop a broad, floor-standing foundation. Towering over even Garrett’s six-foot frame, Bel did not have to step closer to understand why the constructed piece was so large or why it was carved so securely. Its reason was as plain as the pooled wax, as the claw foot base, as the metal coiled and welded tight around the wood to ensure its form held. For built into the light fixture to serve as its skeleton was Brett Lumen.

His head made the centermost candlestick. The melting wax dripped over his eyes and mouth, giving his skin a pallid, synthetic appearance. Both of his arms curved skywards in a ‘U’ shape around his skull, forming two of the chandelier’s branches. Ornately chiseled wood buckled in place by metal rings supported them, forcing his palms to face heavenward to serve as holds for the once burning candles. The multitude of surrounding candlesticks held no flesh in their thinner curves, and they bloomed around his shoulders in exquisite uniformity as if designed for the entrance of a castle instead of a wooden death shroud.

The melting wax had singed some of the skin closest to the candles, and Bel clenched her fists as she slowly circled the body. Lumen’s legs and hips were entombed within the structure’s base, his lower half hidden by the sculpture. His stomach and back stood naked, thick screws drilled into his flesh to hold the more delicate carvings to his corpse. His torso was bare besides the wax and wood, and Bel guessed he was naked from head to toe. Clothing would mar this macabre masterpiece of art, and whoever did this had taken great pains to perfect every curve, every screw, every position.

“There’s no blood.” Bel leaned closer to one of the screws drilled into Lumen’s shoulder blade. Each smooth arch of wood was pristine, each screw and metal ring shining. The killer took pride in his work. He wouldn’t have wanted stains marring his art. “The M.E. will confirm, but I suspect Brett was killed first, cleaned, and then assembled.”

“How?” Garrett cleared his throat. “How does someone do this?”

“It was clearly premeditated,” Bel said, squatting to examine the claw foot base. The designs looked like the feet of a beast, the claws sharp and curved, ready to rip flesh free from bones. “Someone planned this for a long time. They tailored every inch of this to Lumen’s body.” She stood up, gesturing to a slender coil of wood that wrapped around the pale ribs. “The killer knew how tall, how heavy and wide Lumen was. They also encased him in some of the most beautiful furniture I have ever seen, a piece Brett Lumen himself would strive to produce. A furniture designer entombed in the works he loved most.”

“It’s disgusting,” Garrett blurted, and Bel quirked an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but someone killed Brett and turned him into furniture. And as if that wasn’t enough, they peeled open his chest.”

Bel finished her circle of the body and settled beside her partner, staring at the gaping hole in Lumen’s ribs. She had noticed that gruesome wound instantly, but she had needed a minute to fortify herself for the gore, choosing to examine the craftsmanship first to ground her emotions.

“I can understand the chandelier’s inspiration,” Garrett said, gesturing to the monstrosity before them. “Lumen was well known for his work. People from all over the country paid thousands to own his pieces. His furniture was unique. He refused to create duplicates, so entombing him in a one-of-a-kind piece is almost sickly poetic. But why carve open his chest to show his heart?”

Bel leaned forward, careful not to touch the body, and examined the gaping wound. The flesh and bones above Lumen’s heart had been ripped apart, the missing pieces absent from the crime scene. The wound had not been carved with any recognizable blade, but instead, gave off the impression that a massive clawed hand had reached into his chest and tore it free. The claw foot base flashed through her mind, and Bel shoved down the foreboding flickering to life in her gut. Her first thought upon seeing the design had been this exact act. Claws tearing flesh.

“Everything about this scene is making a statement,” Bel said, careful to avoid the carved claws inches away from her shoes. “The body encased in furniture. The wound mimicking the—”

She froze mid-sentence, her voice lodging painfully in her throat. She leaned forward again, this time focusing on the cavity and not the torn skin. She had been too busy comparing the mangled and missing flesh to the carvings, but staring at it now, she wasn’t sure how she missed it.

With rapid steps, she lunged backward to get the full view. The base of the structure was composed of bestial clawed feet, but the coiling wood and metal that wrapped around the body formed intricately carved branches and vines. Delicate leaves and thorns decorated the sculpture, the melted wax gifting it with an otherworldly glow, and she understood.

“It’s a rosebush,” Bel said, and Garrett looked at her with raised eyebrows. “The statue is a rosebush, and that’s not his heart. Those are rose petals.”

Medical Examiner,Lina Thum, arrived with some warning of what to expect—unlike Bel who had entered the scene blind—since she had the unfortunate job of transporting Lumen’s entombed body to the morgue, but even knowing what awaited her in the showroom did not prepare her for the monstrous reality of a man encased in a human-sized light fixture. Her straightforward approach to life was one reason she was so good at her job. She never beat around the bush or sugar-coated her words, but even her no-nonsense attitude experienced a temporary shutdown and reboot at the beautifully crafted heart of petals blooming in Brett’s chest.

“This entire piece won’t fit in my van,” Lina said after she examined Lumen and made her declaration of death. Her professional mannerisms were fully in control, but Bel still heard the threads of unnerved awe woven into her words. “The killer assembled the statue around the body, so let’s attempt to remove parts of the base and the arms for transport, but everything screwed into flesh remains until I get him to the morgue.”

“Do you have any idea when he was killed?” Bel asked as Lina began directing deputies on how to dismantle the furniture without disrupting evidence.

“Because rigor mortis is still present, I estimate some time yesterday,” she answered. “I’ll know more once I complete the autopsy, but that makes the most sense since his showroom was closed every Sunday. Almost everyone in this town knows this building is abandoned, save for Brett, from Saturday night until Monday morning. Killing him and then assembling this piece would have taken hours, and yesterday was the only uninterrupted opportunity available. Did you notice the lack of blood?” Lina pointed to a screw protruding from Brett’s ribs, and Bel stepped closer despite having already studied the pale skin.

“There is no blood at the drill sites,” Lina continued. “Combined with the very little lividity, I believe he was drained and washed before this was assembled. At least he was dead before they mutilated his body.” The group fell silent for a moment, the gravity of her statement sinking achingly deep within their chests. This had been a man, a human being. No one deserved this level of disgrace, even if their spirit had already vacated their flesh.

---