“That is quite the concoction,” Wallace replied flatly. “Love dust and cocaine would rapidly raise his blood pressure, but then a massive dose of benzos? They’d completely kill his buzz. Seems a bit counter-intuitive, don’t you think?”
“Plus he’d have had a raging boner,” Maya said. “The new strain of love dust is strong stuff.”
She wasn’t wrong. Love dust had become notorious in High Enfield, stories of its potent aphrodisiac effects making the news after the press got their hands on the sex trafficking case the previous year. The silvery powder could send omegas into false heats and alphas into false ruts. The effects on betas were still being tested, but all in all it meant a bad time for everyone.
“Yeah, but…” Pember’s words trailed off as he ran a finger over the screen. “Look at theamountof benzos in his blood. The value’s almost five times higher than anything else, and the lovedust-cocaine combo would exaggerate the effects of the benzos. If he ingested it all in one go?—”
“He’d have hit the fucking deck,” Maya said, slapping her palms together, making Pember wince.
“Hold on,” Duncan piped up. “Isn’t this what the armed robbery guy had inhissystem? Felix what’s-his-face.”
“Maginty,” Pember replied.
Wallace nodded. “I think we better call Major Crime.”
Not even an hour later, Pember found himself sitting around a circular desk in front of Blake, Blake’s boss and two other sergeants. The new Major Crime Unit was all glass walls, bright lights and detectives clustered around screens in connecting incident rooms. It was a far,farcry from what Pember had seen of Oliver’s tiny office. The Domestic Abuse Unit was sorely underfunded, although it did have a fish tank and an unlimited supply of biscuits.
“Morning, Inspector,” Wallace said, dipping his head.
The inspector was a pale, dour man in his late forties. He was as tall as Blake, but skinnier than a matchstick, and Pember wondered if a slight breeze might blow him over. He also had a comb-over that was hiding absolutelynothing.
“Good morning, Wallace, and…” His sharp eyes snapped to Pember.
Pember swallowed. “Um, Pember. Pember McArthur, your—” He was about to say ‘Your Honour’for some God unknown reason, but swiftly closed his mouth. He glanced at Blake, who was failing to contain a smirk.
“Right.” The inspector raised an eyebrow. “This is DS Mark Matthews and DS Caitlin Vaughan. Blake you already know.”
Pember nodded, wetting his lips. Mark was a dark-haired man with a stained, striped tie, and Caitlin had a severe straight-cut fringe and long eyelashes. Both alphas, if their broad statures and deep scents were anything to go by. Both nodded curtly and returned their attention to the inspector.
“What do we know, Wallace?”
Wallace relayed their findings as the five of them nodded along, and the more he spoke, the graver the inspector’s expression became. “So you’re saying we have a link between the two bodies?”
“Potentially,” Wallace replied, shuffling his papers.
“So, what…” Mark cut in. “A deadly new street drug, or something more sinister?”
The inspector sniffed and cracked his knuckles. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t think we can rule anything out. Given the complexities of our chip shop victim, and how overrun our narcotics department is, the three of you will be taking this on for the moment.”
Mark deflated whilst Blake nodded rapidly. “Thank you, boss. My suspicions about Maginty might be nothing, but I’m not satisfied that he injected the drugs willingly.”
Later that afternoon, Wallace presented their findings to the rest of the department, and Pember was relegated to mouse clicking duty. They’d done their best to include bright colours and easy-to-follow diagrams, but ultimately they were fighting a losing battle.
A detective at the back of the room sheepishly raised a hand. “So, let me get this right, he died of an overdose?”
Wallace sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “No, he was most definitely stabbed to death, what with the one hundred and two stab wounds. Twenty-seven of which were to his heart. The drugs incapacitated him. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him lose control of his major muscle groups.”
“So, like, paralysed?” another detective with severe cheek bones offered.
Wallace pinched the bridge of his nose. “Probably. There was also alcohol in his system, but again, not enough to sedate him. He was a big lad, not to mention an alpha, meaning his body would have metabolised the drink and drugs quickly. Whoever killed him would’ve had a very short window before his adrenal glands kicked in, raising his blood pressure and giving him the ability to fight back. Despite all the wounds, he was already in the early stages of a shift before the killing blow stopped his heart for good. Truly remarkable.”
Pember nodded. “Hence the frenzied attack.”
Blake tapped his chin and rose from his position against the wall. “DNA?”
Wallace sat back in his chair. “Duncan’s still running tests on the other swabs. We’ll know more later today.”
“What about fingerprints? Was anything recovered from the chest of drawers in the bedroom?” Blake asked.
