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Authors: Harrison Drake
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help lift it into the unit.
“It’s heavy,” the forensics investigator said, a look of sorrow on his face. I knew what he meant. It weighed as much as we expected it to, over a hundred-and-twenty pounds, at least. “We’re going to open it, Lincoln. If you want to leave…”
I shook my head. He knew I wasn’t going to. The investigator, Detective Mathias Buval, was someone I had gotten to know quite well over the course of the investigation into Crawford’s crimes. Mathias was from Martinique, a small island in the Caribbean located northwest of Barbados. Like other islands in the French West Indies, Martinique was considered an overseas region of France and, as such, was a member of the European Union. It had been a change of pace for Mathias to come to France, but he saw more opportunity for his family in doing so. He wanted his children to experience the world outside of their small island, and to have access to everything Europe had to offer, namely the numerous universities.
Mathias and I had a lot in common and bonded over our similarities in a city where we had a tendency to stand out. Born to a Caucasian French father and a Martiniquaís mother, a descendant of African slaves, we shared a similar heritage. We also both felt very out of place in France, even though Mathias had already spent seven years in Lyon. It was a culture shock that would likely always linger, and with the cold weather and heavy snowfall France had been experiencing, there was climate shock to be considered as well.
“Go ahead,” I said. I stood a distance from the storage container, and a shorter distance from the nearest garbage can. I had to be there when they opened the container. I may have been on leave from policing, a leave I wasn’t sure I’d ever return from, but I still had a duty to fulfil. More important than that, was the duty of a spouse. I would be there every moment along the way until I brought Kat home. She would have expected nothing less.
Mathias took out a large box-cutter from his tool kit and began to cut through the heavy plastic wrap and tape that sealed the bin. I breathed through my mouth, knowing that if we were right about the contents, the odour was soon to become unbearable. Mathias cut away at the plastic and in short order had removed enough to be able to tear it back to reveal the lid to the container. I had already detected the smell, and I knew he had as well, but there was something different about it that I couldn’t place. Mathias’s breathing was laboured, forced almost, as he took shallow, slow breaths through an almost completely closed mouth. If it was different, he hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded. The familiar feeling of upheaval began to rise in my stomach. I took one last deep breath and did my best to quell the feeling.
Mathias lifted the lid and the smell hit us both. It was putrid, but it was something I hadn’t experienced. There was a familiarity to it, but it was not what I had been expecting. Mathias lifted the lid all the way revealing the reason for the difference.
In the bin was a skeleton, cleaned of all its flesh, its knees raised up slightly and its head leaning against the end of the container. On the bottom of the bin lay hundreds if not thousands of dead beetles, piled over the lower regions of the body. Mathias reached into the bin and began to push the beetles aside. He had gloves on, something I didn’t have, but I still wasn’t sure I would’ve been that eager, even if they were all dead. As his hand moved, the odour began to worsen and the familiar smell appeared. Mathias removed his hand and I saw the remnants of decomposed, liquefied flesh slip off of his glove.
“Oh, fuck,” I said.
“I guess the beetles died before…”
I put my hand over my mouth and forced myself to swallow. “Yeah, they probably asphyxiated before they could finish.”
I moved closer to the bucket and examined the skeleton. I was no expert, but
“It’s heavy,” the forensics investigator said, a look of sorrow on his face. I knew what he meant. It weighed as much as we expected it to, over a hundred-and-twenty pounds, at least. “We’re going to open it, Lincoln. If you want to leave…”
I shook my head. He knew I wasn’t going to. The investigator, Detective Mathias Buval, was someone I had gotten to know quite well over the course of the investigation into Crawford’s crimes. Mathias was from Martinique, a small island in the Caribbean located northwest of Barbados. Like other islands in the French West Indies, Martinique was considered an overseas region of France and, as such, was a member of the European Union. It had been a change of pace for Mathias to come to France, but he saw more opportunity for his family in doing so. He wanted his children to experience the world outside of their small island, and to have access to everything Europe had to offer, namely the numerous universities.
Mathias and I had a lot in common and bonded over our similarities in a city where we had a tendency to stand out. Born to a Caucasian French father and a Martiniquaís mother, a descendant of African slaves, we shared a similar heritage. We also both felt very out of place in France, even though Mathias had already spent seven years in Lyon. It was a culture shock that would likely always linger, and with the cold weather and heavy snowfall France had been experiencing, there was climate shock to be considered as well.
“Go ahead,” I said. I stood a distance from the storage container, and a shorter distance from the nearest garbage can. I had to be there when they opened the container. I may have been on leave from policing, a leave I wasn’t sure I’d ever return from, but I still had a duty to fulfil. More important than that, was the duty of a spouse. I would be there every moment along the way until I brought Kat home. She would have expected nothing less.
Mathias took out a large box-cutter from his tool kit and began to cut through the heavy plastic wrap and tape that sealed the bin. I breathed through my mouth, knowing that if we were right about the contents, the odour was soon to become unbearable. Mathias cut away at the plastic and in short order had removed enough to be able to tear it back to reveal the lid to the container. I had already detected the smell, and I knew he had as well, but there was something different about it that I couldn’t place. Mathias’s breathing was laboured, forced almost, as he took shallow, slow breaths through an almost completely closed mouth. If it was different, he hadn’t seemed to notice.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded. The familiar feeling of upheaval began to rise in my stomach. I took one last deep breath and did my best to quell the feeling.
Mathias lifted the lid and the smell hit us both. It was putrid, but it was something I hadn’t experienced. There was a familiarity to it, but it was not what I had been expecting. Mathias lifted the lid all the way revealing the reason for the difference.
In the bin was a skeleton, cleaned of all its flesh, its knees raised up slightly and its head leaning against the end of the container. On the bottom of the bin lay hundreds if not thousands of dead beetles, piled over the lower regions of the body. Mathias reached into the bin and began to push the beetles aside. He had gloves on, something I didn’t have, but I still wasn’t sure I would’ve been that eager, even if they were all dead. As his hand moved, the odour began to worsen and the familiar smell appeared. Mathias removed his hand and I saw the remnants of decomposed, liquefied flesh slip off of his glove.
“Oh, fuck,” I said.
“I guess the beetles died before…”
I put my hand over my mouth and forced myself to swallow. “Yeah, they probably asphyxiated before they could finish.”
I moved closer to the bucket and examined the skeleton. I was no expert, but
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