The Canefield Killer - A John Riley Novel

Chapter 6

Weekes parked his car about fifty feet off of the road on a small path intended to give tractors easier access to the canefields. The canes stretched up on either side of them, black and charred from a fire, but still standing.

The burnt canes had been flattened in a large path leading into the field. A small pile of flowers, old and wilting now, sat to one side of the path.

Weekes had brought the official reports along with decent colour copies of the crime scene photos and postcards. Riley slid the report and pictures on the first victim out of their envelope. 'Vera Fowler' was the name on the report. Riley read the name a couple of times, committing the name to memory, so that it meant something more to him, even for just a moment. That done, he followed Weekes into the field.

The fire had been weeks ago, but Riley could still smell the sweet aroma of burnt sugar. The dried canes complained, snapping and rustling underfoot as they walked. The beaten-down path ended in a large semicircular clearing.

Troy walked over to one spot at the far edge of the clearing. "The body was here."

Riley compared the photo he had to the actual scene. In the picture, the body was lying on the ground naked, right where Weekes was standing. Her skin had been charred by the fire and was an unnatural black colour, cracked and peeling away in places.

Burnt pork. The smell came back to Riley. He knew he was imagining it, but he could smell it anyway and his hung-over stomach lurched in response. Riley turned away from the scene and took a deep breath. Weekes' voice faded into the background and Riley found himself thinking about the Seattle case. Dimes had said that the landlord was sure no one else had rented the place, and Charles Larry was still MIA. He had forgotten to call Dimes and find out what was happening. Also he would need to make sure that flowers made it to the funeral and to Dale's family.

Weekes had stopped talking and was staring at Riley.

"No postcard on this one," Riley said, bringing himself back to the present.

"Not on this one, no."

"Destroyed by the fire?"

Weekes was standing in the same spot looking down at the ground. Where the body had lain showed some green spots, weeds shielded from the fire by Vera, "Not according to our crime scene unit. No paper, no chemicals, no trace of it."

"So how did you tie it to the same guy?"

Riley had read the report and already knew the answer, he just wanted to get Weekes thinking, to make sure that he hadn't been saddled with someone whose only talent was talking endlessly about nothing.

"Well. He, uhm, he tied her hands and feet, like the other ones," Weekes held up a hand and ticked off the similarities on his fingers, "He took her clothes and left her naked. He left the body hidden in a canefield," he paused, trying to come up with something else then added, "And the next one was found just up the road a little ways."

Riley stared at the photograph. The dead body, the fire, the faint smell of smoke. His mind kept wandering to Seattle and what progress, if any, Dimes might be making. He kicked idly at the charred ground with one shoe while he thought.

Weekes interrupted the quiet: "So you don't think he did this one?"

Riley looked at the photo again. Held it up so that her body in the photo was where it was when they found her.

"No, I know it was him. Let's see number two."

***

The second body had been found less than a quarter of a mile away. The road they were on wound around and passed a small stone church that looked like it had a seating capacity of fifty people if they were all friends. Next to the church was a stone entryway that was gated. Behind the gate was a large rectangular building that resembled a cellblock, and a large stone house with a red roof that looked like it dated back a hundred years.