The Sign of Nun

Chapter One

There is no moon; I stand in the shadows of the main door of The Soldier’s Tower. It seems cold for early October; I pull my coat more tightly around me.

From where I stand, I am invisible to any others that might pass by, enveloped by deep shadows, I dare not move.

It’s 11:15 PM and only a few stragglers cross the front campus, most likely divinity students from Knox College. Just figures until they pass the streetlights, even then it’s difficult to make out faces. Will I be able to tell?

My heart is thumping within my chest my breathing seems erratic. Get control. I can do this.

Then I see her. She’s coming directly towards me. Can she see me? Of course, she can’t. Steady. Don’t do anything stupid. She’s at the sidewalk; I must make my move before she turns away.

I step from the shadows, she sees me.

What do you want? Why are you here? she asks.

I say nothing; I just motion to her to join me. Will she come? She hesitates but comes up the steps to the entrance a questioning look on her face. She stops directly in front of me with her hands on her hips. Her attitude stiffens my resolve. I can do it.

Well are you going to tell me or not?

I place a finger over my lips as though there was someone who might overhear.

Look I don’t want to be seen with you either. she says as she moves further into the doorway.

She’s in front of me now and I’m suddenly calm, soon it will be over. I can feel the knife in its sheath, a comfort to me. I must do it now, before she can turn.

The knife slips easily from its resting-place and in one motion I place my left hand over her mouth and pull her head back. With the right hand, I quickly shove the blade through her back; it meets no resistance slipping easily between her ribs. Then a quick twist in a clockwise direction severs the aorta; she struggles. Then as her heart vainly pumps the last of her blood into her left chest cavity, she dies.

Her body slumps against me, I remove the blade and wipe it clean on her coat and return it to its sheath. I let her body slump to the ground. At once, a feeling of elation comes over me; I’ve done it. The sense of power accompanies my elation. I am again calm, breathing normally, just as though nothing has happened.

But I must complete my task.

I pull her by her feet so that they face the street and her head the doorway. In the process, her skirt rides up exposing the bare flesh of her thighs above her stockings. I make sure that she is decently covered and then take a cloth from my pocket and cover her face with it.

I stand back to check the scene; yes it’s perfect.

Almost no blood to be seen, the wound would be small; all the bleeding would be internal.

I’ll get the book from my briefcase, the last piece. There’s her backpack, Good. I’ll put it with rest of her things.

I stand and double check that everything is in order and that no clues are left behind. Smiling I enjoy my continuing euphoria. Picking up my briefcase, I casually leave the scene; I can easily walk to the subway from the building.

* * *

Dave Harris picked up the call regarding a murder. As Chief of Detectives he would not ordinarily respond to such a call but considering that the location was on campus and so close to Queen’s Park it seemed prudent to do so.

It was after midnight when he pulled onto King’s College Circle and parked alongside the squad cars already on the scene. He could see that the crime scene people had the area cordoned off, he headed towards the man he knew would be heading up the site investigation.

Hi Terry. Got anything yet?

"Not much boss. We’ll need to run a postmortem to make sure of the details. A friend of one of the students here found the body. They were probably lookin’ for a place to ‘make out’ and stumbled on the body.

I reckon she’s been dead about an hour or so but I need to confirm that. She’s a female Caucasian approximately 30 years old. That’s about all I have for you at the moment.

Wait. There is one other thing, her face was covered by a cloth.

Harris moved in for a closer look at the victim.

Very tidy, don’t see any blood. What’s that mark on the cloth on her face?

I dunno, some kind of hieroglyph I guess.

She seems kind of old to be a student, don’t you think Terry?

Could be taking extension courses, or maybe a member of the faculty.

You got a name for her?

Driver’s license says Ms. Lila Sobering.

Thanks Terry. Who’s in charge of the investigation?

Would you believe, your old buddy Tim Cassidy?

Cassidy and Harris had been partners before Harris was promoted to Chief of Detectives. They had worked many cases together; he still counted him as one of his best friends.

Harris walked to the curb where he could see a group of plain-clothes officers were in deep discussion. The meeting broke up as Harris approached.

What’s up Tim?

Dave, Jeez, it’s good to see you. What are you doin’ out at this hour?

Old habits die hard I guess. When I heard how close this was to Queen’s Park, I thought it might be worth a ‘look see’.

"I know what you mean. I don’t have much to tell you yet, doesn’t look like either rape or robbery although we won’t really know about the rape part until after the autopsy.

"I’ve sent officers to the address shown on her license, which may give us a bit more to go on. I’ve got them running her ID through our computer to see if anything comes up.

Then tomorrow I’ll see the university registrar and see what that turns up.

Good. Thanks Tim, keep me posted will you?

You bet Dave.

What do you make of that cloth over her face Tim?

"Yeah, that’s kind weird. I guess we have all seen victims with their faces covered.

Some kind of psychological thing I guess. But I don’t know what the symbol is or what it means. Do you think we might have some kinda weirdo on our hands?

Let’s not jump to conclusions, I just wondered if you had ever seen it before.

* * *

I did it. There wasn't a hitch, not even a sound.

I wonder what the people on the subway would think if they knew who they were riding with? The sense of power, I feel invincible and I have only just begun. I need a drink. Scotch; yes Scotch that’ll do it. A celebration, that’s what I deserve. I can just imagine the police trying to figure this out, those Neanderthals. They will soon realize that they are up against a superior intellect. They are all so stupid.

I must wash my blade, although I can see no blood. See how it shines, Could it be that it has a life of it’s own? No. No. I give it life.

Chapter Two

An information package arrived on Harris’ desk; it contained crime scene photos and a list of contents of last night’s murder victim’s backpack.

Harris spread out the 8 by 10 glossies of the woman’s body, just as it had been found. The backpack just a short distance away, seemed to have been carefully placed there. Not dropped or thrown in any kind of struggle.

She must have known her assailant. Else, why would she have gone into that alcove, so late at night? And why is her body so carefully arranged? There is no way she would have fallen in that position.

It’s as though she just lay down to rest. Could it have been a tryst, strange location for it? It was cold too, besides she doesn’t look the type.

I suppose stranger things have happened, we’ll see what the coroner has to say about it. It could have been a rape. A robbery seems unlikely: the list indicates her wallet was in her backpack and it contained hundred and seventy dollars. Then there’s her watch, gotta be worth three hundred dollars anyway. No not robbery.

That cloth over her face, what does that mean? Some attempt by the killer at giving the victim come dignity in death? And what does that symbol mean?

And why the lack of blood? The report says she was stabbed. Could she have been murdered somewhere else and then the body moved there? But why, and if they were correct with the time of death estimate, there wouldn’t have been time. I need to talk to Carl Pelley and get a few more answers.

But before he did any more on this case, he knew it would be prudent to have a word with Tim Cassidy. No sense in having him bent out of shape by what he might see as interference.

He punched in Cassidy’s local Tim answered.

Hi Tim, its Dave. Could you come up to my office for a quick discussion about the University murder last night? Good, thanks.

Harris continued to review the list indicating the contents of the backpack. He noted she had a day-timer. I’ll need to see that for sure.

Cassidy knocked on the open door frame.

Morning Dave. Something up?

I was just reviewing this package from forensics regarding last night’s murder. I take you sent it up to me?

Yep, you said you wanted to be up to speed on this one.

Thanks Tim. I just wanted to make sure that you don’t feel that I’m interfering. This is your case. I just know that I will be hearing from Queen’s Park and the University for that matter.

Not to worry boss. I’ll take all the help I can get. No offense taken.

"Was there something specific Dave?

"I’ve got a few questions, maybe you can help clear them up, if not I’m sure Abe Fischer can.

The preliminary report says that she died from a stab wound to the back and yet there was a negligible amount of blood at the scene. Why is that do you think?

"I noticed that too, but it was easily explained. Abe said that the weapon was extremely sharp and long, perhaps as much as 10 inches. It was very sharp as well.

From the wound, itself Abe was able to determine that a minimum of force was required to penetrate the clothing and flesh. Whether by luck or skill the assailant missed any bone. A quick flick of the wrist and the aorta was severed; she would have been dead almost before she hit the ground. Any bleeding that did take place was internal.

Does he have any guess as to the weapon?

He’s leaning towards a surgical knife, the kind used in amputations.

Hmm, maybe the killer has a medical background?

Could be, or a butcher.

Harris could see the smile playing around the corners of Cassidy’s mouth. How many times have I told him not to jump to conclusions?

Touché.

The other thing I found out is that she lives with a roommate.

He consulted his notepad.

"Her name’s Alberta McLeod, originally from the Maritimes, Antigonish I believe.

I was just on my way up to see her when you called. Interested in coming along?"

You bet."

* * *

It was short trip from Police Headquarters to the student residences close to St. Basil’s Church. Harris was deep in thought so Cassidy left him undisturbed.

There it is, just over there number 765.

They entered the old building and began to peruse the tenant listing for either McLeod or Sobering, Cassidy found it, lifted the receiver and keyed in the code number.

He was about to hang up after the eighth ring when a quiet voice answered.

"Hello; who is this?

It’s the Metropolitan police ma’am.

I told everything I know to the officers last night. I have nothing more to say.

Ms. McLeod, I’m afraid that we must insist, we need your help if we are to apprehend the killer of your friend. Surely you understand.

There was silence on the other end of the line, Cassidy was unsure of whether she had hung up or not. Then a sigh, OK, I don’t know what else I can tell you but come up.

The door latch buzzed and they entered no elevators and it was four flights up. They could smell food cooking in spite of the signs on the walls stating that such activity was not allowed.

Harris knocked on the door of 415, he could hear soft padded footstep approach the door and could sense rather than see the eye peering through the peephole.

After a moment, they could hear the chain slide back and the door opened a black woman of medium height stood in the doorway. In spite of the red rimmed eyes, she was a very attractive young woman.

May we come in? Harris asked.

Of course. Excuse me I’m not thinking well today, please come in.

Cassidy found the lilting accent of the East Coast somewhat at odds with his preconceived notion of the person speaking.

She led them into a small seating area that also contained a table and two chairs. Harris could not help but notice the hot plate cord peeking out from beneath the sofa. Obviously, she ignored the signs in the hall too.

The bathroom door was open, the other two doors, bedrooms Harris surmised, were closed.

Harris and Cassidy occupied the sofa and the woman took the only other chair.

Harris let Cassidy assume the lead; it was his case after all.

Ms. McLeod would you please tell us how long you and Ms. Sobering have been roommates?

Ever since we came here, two years ago.

In this residence?

Yes. Why?

Cassidy ignored her question and continued.

Ms. McLeod, can you think of anyone that might have wanted to harm Ms. Sobering?

Tears began to spill down her cheeks; she dabbed at them but was unsuccessful in stemming the flow. Her shoulders began to shake and she sobbed.

No. No one I can think of anyone who would want to harm her. She is. Was such a wonderful person, so caring.

Cassidy paused in his questioning to let her regain her composure, then he continued.

What about any other people in her life, a boy friend perhaps?

Harris could see the immediate stiffening in her body.

Touched a nerve there Tim, need to push that more.

Harris asked.

Ms. McLeod was your relationship with the victim more than that of a roommate?

Christ Dave, you don’t beat around the bush do you.

The girl’s head snapped up a look of defiance in her eyes.

What business is that of yours?

I’m sorry if you feel that I’m intruding in your private life, but the question still stands. It could be relevant to this case.

How?

Ms. McLeod, please remember how this works. We ask the questions, you provide the answers.

The tears had stopped and she was in control. Her head was held high and in anger, she answered.

We were lovers. We had been for almost 5 years.

Perhaps then we should rephrase the Sargent question then. Was there another lady friend in her life?

Harris could see the anger boiling up to the surface; the woman was doing a poor job at controlling her rage.

Don’t you judge us. Don’t you dare judge us. Ours was a monogamous relationship, Lila would have never cheated on me.

"I did not mean to imply that she had, my question was really related to what might have occurred in the past. Is it possible that someone, someone with a grudge that might have wanted to hurt her?

Frankly your lifestyle or anyone else’s for that matter is of no concern to me.

She seemed to regain her composure; she sat quietly, twisting her hands in her lap, the said.

"I’m sorry, it’s just that this loss has been devastating. I loved her so much, and now she’s gone, just gone, in such a terrible way.

Who could do such a thing?

Ms. McLeod that is exactly what we are trying to find out, will you help us?

Bertie, just Bertie please. Ms. McLeod is not how I see myself.

OK Bertie, what can you tell us about any other friends or acquaintances?

"We were each other’s best friend, we spent a great deal of time together. With our respective course loads, there wasn’t much time for socializing.

We never partied, we were your typical ‘old married’ couple if you understand my meaning.

I guess it’s the badge, she just assumes that anyone in authority is automatically going to react negatively to a lesbian relationship. Might be different if it was a female officer asking the questions.

Tim asked. Were you and Lila taking the same courses?

"No, Lila was much brighter than me. She was working towards her Ph.D. in ancient languages, she dreamed of being an archaeologist. Working on digs in the Middle East.

Me, I was after a Master’s degree in Fine Arts, for me the dream was to accompany Lila on the digs and to paint the sites as they once were.

You said ‘was’, are you saying that this is no longer the case?

My life has been destroyed. I don’t know what I will do now. I feel adrift.

Harris could empathize with the girl, but he needed to pursue the questioning while things were still fresh in her mind.

"Bertie, can you tell me about Lila’s movements last night?

"When did you last see her?

"Where did she go?

Did you have any contact with her after you last saw her?

"So many questions, I’ll try. She was going to work with her advisor on her doctoral dissertation.

"She left here at about seven o’clock, the meeting was in the professor’s office. It should have lasted only about 2 hours.

"When she didn’t call, I assumed that they were deeply into her thesis and lost track of time.

That some times happened, I wasn’t overly concerned. But it was different this time, she didn’t call to tell me she was going to be late.

So you never did hear from her when she left here?

No. Harris could see the tears welling up again.

Better move on and change the subject.

Bertie, what about Lila’s parents, do you know where they live? We need to contact them.

"Both dead, within a year of each other, Cancer.

That was before I met her.

This isn’t getting any easier.

Tim asked.

Can you tell us the name of Lila’s advisor? We’re going to need to speak to him.

Boris, Boris Evchenskov. Mr. Odd-Ball.

You don’t like him?

Only met him once, he was weird. Had trouble with his mouth.

What do you mean?

He drooled a lot, spittle was always hanging on his chin or I should say chins."

Harris smiled to himself her description was vivid. But now the tough question.

"Bertie, I must ask this next question, I hope you understand.

I need to know your whereabouts for last evening, between the time Lila left here until the police officers arrived at your door.

Chapter Three

You bastard, you think I was involved in Lila’s death? How could you accuse me of any such thing?

Harris watched her reactions carefully, were they real?

I’ve been fooled before. But I have to say that I think she is genuine.

"Bertie, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid these questions must be asked. It’s more the case of ruling you out as a suspect than trying to prove that you are.

Could you please answer my question? Where were you last evening between the hours of seven PM and when the officers came to see you.

Her head thrust forward defiantly.

I was here, right here, all evening. I never went out.

Harris continued.

What were you doing during that period? Did anyone see you or perhaps call you on the phone?

No one saw me, no one called. I was working on an important assignment, it’s due next week.

Mind if I ask what the assignment is?"

She motioned him to follow her to one of the two closed doors, As they entered Harris could see the backside of an easel with a canvas mounted on it. He moved to the front to have a look at Bertie’s work.

He was stunned, that was the only word for it, stunned. It was a portrait of the murder victim Lila Sobering. It was vivid, life like, as though she might speak to the observer at any moment.

Harris was struck by the difference between the dead girl he had seen in the doorway and the one depicted in the painting.

He had not considered the girl in the doorway to be even pretty, just a slightly overweight student but this girl in the picture was a sensuous beauty with sultry dark eyes.

Idealized? Perhaps.

But there was little doubt of Bertie’s talent, the detail of the painting was startling, just a little this side of photo-realism.

Harris moved closer to examine the workmanship, then stepped back for a broader view.

I’m very impressed with your work Bertie. You are a very talented painter.

Thank you, but the subject made it easy for me. As you can see, the painting is still very wet from last evening, that should prove my alibi’," she said the word in a mocking tone.

If I didn’t believe that you had done the work the day before using retarders to prevent the paint from drying. Thought Harris

Finally, Cassidy interjected.

Bertie, did Lila have any brothers or sisters or other relatives that you are aware of?

She thought for a moment.

No, or at least she never mentioned any. Lila was a very private person when it came to family, even with me.

Harris was still admiring the picture.

Bertie, the necklace she’s wearing in your painting, it’s very unique. Do you know where she got it?

The body language changed, Harris noted it.

I have no idea where she got it or who gave it to her. But she insisted on wearing it when she sat for the portrait.

Harris looked at Cassidy; there was one more thing to be dealt with before they left. He supposed Tim would not be too disappointed if he handled that too.

Bertie, I think we have bothered you enough today, particularly given the sad circumstances surrounding our visit but before we leave there is one last thing I must ask of you.

What’s that?

We must ask you to come down to the morgue and formally identify Lila Sobering’s body.

* * *

As Harris and Cassidy headed back to Headquarters, Tim couldn’t resist a jab at his boss.

I really appreciate your help Dave, as you noticed, I was really at a loss for words in there.

I guess I kinda did take over didn’t I? Sorry about that, old habits die hard.

So Dave, Whaddya think? Is she a suspect?

"I doubt it, but I’ve been wrong before. I think we need to verify that there are no next of kin. And we need to talk to other classmates or contacts at the University. Let’s verify that there is no lover spurned.

It’ll be a good idea to look into Bertie’s background too, make sure there is no triangle on either side.

OK, I’ll look after that, then with a smile.

Unless you want to come along too.

Harris dug the younger man in the ribs and they both chuckled.

Dave, why so interested in that necklace in the portrait?

I dunno, it seemed like an odd piece for someone Lila’s age, almost antique I guess. That and the fact that Bertie says she always wore it and yet I didn’t see it listed on the report you sent me this morning.

Tim reflected on the comment.

If we hadn’t seen the portrait, we wouldn’t have known it was missing.

Well maybe it’s not missing, perhaps it’s still at the site, let’s run over to the Soldier’s Tower and have a look in the daylight.

* * *

As expected, they had found nothing at the Tower. Tim dropped Harris off at the office and proceeded to the University registrar’s office to see what he could find out about the two roommates.

Dave entered the Forensic Lab and headed to Abe Fischer’s office. He saw Abe, a slight man with a wiry graybeard sitting at his desk, He knocked on the doorframe and Abe looked up.

Hi David, I can guess what’s brought you down to see me. The Sobering case right?

On the money as usual Abe.

What can I do for you Dave, I sent that package up this morning, not much more to tell. It was about as clean a crime scene as I’ve ever seen. No prints, no gum wrappers, no cigarette butts.

And no blood to speak of.

That’s right. Whoever did this was very handy with that weapon.

I understand that it may have been some kind of surgical device is that right?

Yeah, from the shape of the wound and the depth of penetration, my guess would be some type of amputation knife, might even be a relic. Maybe the killer is some kind of collector.

You didn’t come across a necklace, gold with an onyx insert a filigree ‘round the stone. Looked antique.

No I’ve been through all her stuff, nothing like that anywhere.

What can you tell me about the cloth that was placed over her face.

Abe smiled.

One thing I can tell you is what that marking represented on the cloth.

What? Do I have to guess Abe?

It’s the Hebrew letter ‘Nun’, it’s the fourteenth letter of the alphabet, that’s fourteen out of twenty-two.

What else Abe? Harris was getting irritated.

That’s all I know, I learned that in schull, then my father died. My mother wasn’t Jewish, she remarried and I became an Anglican, what can I tell ya.

Dave wasn’t quite sure if Abe was pulling his leg or not. They both stood there waiting to see if the other would laugh. When neither did, Harris asked.

So, there’s nothing else you can tell me about it?

Just that it was inscribed by hand, whoever did it used India Ink and some kind of pen, maybe like one of those Chinese brush things.

I see. There didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle, any thoughts on why not?

"My theory would be that the victim knew her assailant and went into that space willingly. There would also be the element of surprise, and there is the weapon itself.

"Extremely sharp a fine point and only relatively light clothing on the victim. It’s not as if it was the middle of winter.

We also have to consider the skill of the perpetrator, the aim was unerring, never struck bone, it was over in a split second.

Seems reasonable. What’s your guess, male or female killer?

"I’d put my money on male, the strength to clamp a hand on her mouth, pull her head back, support her weight if she stumbled and then drive the blade home.

Definitely a man.

"Thanks Abe. I’ll be back to you if I think of any more questions.

Harris returned to his office, pulled out his yellow legal pad, and began to make one of his well-known ‘lists’. He began listing the things he had found out about the victim in the column opposite he made notes of things he needed to find out. This list would be refined over the course of the investigation and ultimately, he knew that when he had the blanks filled in the causal links would become evident and he would solve the case.

When he had finished he called Bella Freidman, he always hesitated before calling her on any case, but that was personal. She is, after all, the Police Department’s Psychologist; he needed her input on this case.

He would just have to put up with her warped sense of