Page 25 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

“Did an employee find him?” Bel asked.

“No, Legat owns and runs this music shop by himself.” Bel and Garrett exchanged a look as he answered. So much for her disgruntled employee theory.

“Who found him?” Garrett asked.

“Mr. Stone.” Griffin jerked his head backward in Eamon’s direction. “He had an appointment with Victor this morning before store hours. He called it in.”

Bel’s gaze slid to Eamon, his towering height stalking her from the shadows. Despite his pure beauty and intimidating size, none of the deputies paid him any attention, as if he existed for her and only her. Three deaths. Three crime scenes. Eamon Stone the only common denominator. Bel’s stomach twisted. There was no evidence to support her conviction, but she knew. This beautifully dangerous man was a killer. He had done this, and she had been alone in the woods with him.

“Don’t let him leave.” Bell swallowed the fear choking her. “I want to talk to him after I see the body.”

Sheriff Griffin nodded as the partners moved for the front door. “Legat has one adult son who lives a few towns over with his wife and her family. I’ll notify him.”

“Thank you,” both detectives said in unison as they donned protective gear and slipped inside the music shop. Bel refused to meet Eamon’s stare, but she felt his eyes follow her every step of the way. The thread of concern still weaved through his irises, and while she convinced herself that it was because they were closing in on him, a nagging in her gut whispered the concern was not for himself. It was for her.

The Ivory Keys had a cluttered eclectic feel, instruments decorating every inch of the space as they walked the straight path to the shop’s main floor. A beautiful vintage piano stood proud and dazzling in the middle of the room, but its beauty was not the focal point. The piano bench was.

Victor Legat looked to be in his late sixties, his body posed on his hands and knees before the instrument, his spine creating the seat for the pianist to sit upon. Just as Lumen’s nudity had been encased in carvings, so was Legat’s. Starting at his wrists, claw foot wooden legs supported both of his wrinkled arms, the black sculpture drilled into his bloodless skin. A wooden table top stretched from his armpits to his pelvis to support his belly, delicately carved thorn bushes wrapping around his sides to hold him in place. Descending from his hips were another two legs encasing his own. Their delicate designs were screwed into his thighs to keep him steady. Two more gruesome claws protruded from where his knees pressed into the carpet. The killer had also broken Legat’s bones so that he could push the man’s calves against the back of his thighs, drilling his feet parallel to the ceiling to continue the flat stretch that reinforced the seat. The piano bench did not stop there. Beginning at his bare shoulders and extending all the way to the soles of his upturned feet was a cushion, thick threads stitching it bloodlessly to his flesh.

“My god,” Garrett whispered at the mutilation. The black paint of the wood matched the piano’s coloring exactly, the cushion as creamy as the ivory keys. “The wooded base covers his chest.” Garrett pointed to where Legat’s stomach lay pressed against the structure, hiding the man’s ribs from view. “Do you think he is missing his heart?”

Bel stepped forward and studied the cushion sewed into Victor’s back and realized that while the thick thread attached the fabric to flesh where a spectator could see it, the side of his body facing the piano was absent stitching. With gloved fingers, Bel gently tested it, and it lifted easily as if on hinges.

Garrett cursed under his breath as the lifted cushion revealed a gaping, bloodless hole in Legat’s back, all flesh and muscle and bone missing to create a cavity where his heart should have been. An organ of roses rested in its place, the vibrant petals the only crimson on the scene.

“Do you think pulling the heart from his back is significant?” Garrett asked.

“No.” Bel gestured to the immaculate piano. “This is important. A musician becoming part of his instruments.”

“The floor is carpeted.” Garrett rubbed the toe of his shoe over the fibers slightly to emphasize his point. “If the killer left blood behind, this is where we might find it. Bleaching tile is one thing, but carpet?”

“My god,” Lina Thum’s voice interrupted them, and the detectives watched as the medical examiner got to work. “Rigor Mortis is still in full swing,” she said as cameras flashed from every angle. “Time of death was most likely sometime last night. My guess is before midnight, and like the others, it appears he was killed and posed here right away. The killer didn’t break rigor to get him into this position.” Lina cursed softly. “Who does this to an old man?”

“We’ll let you work.” Bel stepped out of Lina’s way to allow her the space. She scanned the shop. The building was too clean, too spotless, and she prayed they would find something embedded in the carpet.

“Are there cameras?” she asked Garrett, not finding any hanging from the ceiling.

“Victor didn’t have any,” Sheriff Griffin’s voice sounded behind them, his large frame hovering by the door. “He was old school that way. I told him he should invest, but he didn’t like technology.”

For a split second, frustration threatened to boil over in Bel’s gut. This killer had claimed three lives, and he showed no signs of slowing. If he didn’t make a mistake soon, if they didn’t find evidence, he would undoubtedly kill again, and Bel couldn’t help but feel that this town’s blood was on her hands. Griffin had made her lead on this case because she was a New York City Detective. She had caught monsters before, but this one? This one was too smart. Too good. Too perfect. No crime was ever this pristine, this flawlessly executed. What kind of killer were they dealing with?

“I got in touch with Legat’s son,” the Sheriff continued, his voice somber. “He’ll be at the station in a few hours.”

“Thanks, Sheriff,” Bel said, passing her boss as she walked outside. “Let me know when he gets here. I want to talk to him.”

Griffin nodded, Lina mumbling in the background about how to safely dismantle Legat’s piano bench, and Bel stormed for Eamon. She was done with his evasive answers and intimidating stares, and with determined resolve, she planted herself before his towering height.

“Good morning, Detective.” Eamon’s lips quirked in a smile that was decidedly threatening.

“Sheriff Griffin tells me you were the one who discovered the body and called it in?” Bel didn’t bother returning his pleasantries.

“I did.”

If he didn’t start answering her, she was going to find pliers and pry them out of him. “What time was that, and why are you here before store hours?”

“I arrived for a 7:00 a.m. appointment, but by 7:15, he had yet to answer my knocks. I tested the door and found it unlocked, so I went inside. That was when I discovered him.”

“Did you touch anything?” she asked.

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