The doctor’s parlor would be perfectly pleasant during the day. Comfortable leather furniture and rich wooden paneled walls made it seem relaxing and sophisticated. The fireplace kept the room warm during the cold months, and tall windows let in lots of sunlight. The doctor’s patients would feel perfectly at ease as they discussed their health. But somehow at night, Grierson felt the room had a sinister menace to it.

“Ah, but it is the truth,” retorted the doctor following him down the hall. “And must I not speak the truth? You are the only person that I confide in, in all of this country. Does this not make you my only friend?”

“You count me as a friend against my wishes. As for my part, you are no more than a resource of extremity.” Responded the Inspector.

“Ah, you wound me,” said the doctor with a most subtle mocking undertone, which Grierson did not fail to notice. “I see you are still upset from the unfortunate end of our last joint effort, but you still come to me for my services again; otherwise, you would not be here.”
Once in the parlor, the doctor motioned for the inspector to sit in one of the dark leather armchairs set by the fire, and once he seated himself the doctor sat in the left chair opposite.

“May I offer you some tea or sherry?” asked the doctor.

“No Thank you.”

The doctor assumed his elder visage and lowered his head till his chin nearly rested on his breast, and looked at Grierson from under the shadow of his brow. “What would you ask of me, inspector?”

“You have heard of the four murders.”

“I have. A terrible business. Such people do not deserve such ends.” He said sounding sympathetic.

“Normal methods aren’t yielding any leads. We have no evidence to work with. I was hoping that you could use your…skills…to see what could be found.”

“You really should have consulted me sooner heir inspector.”

“If I had a choice I wouldn’t be talking to you at all.”

“One always has a choice mien friend.” Said the doctor while raising his head from his hands. “The girl has been dead for under seventy-two hours?”

“Yes.”

“Bring me the body as quickly as possible.”

That very night Grierson contacted two men who were known for acquiring unusual items. He had them remove the body of Miss White from the morgue, and bring it to Dr. Schneider’s facility in the warehouse district. Grierson paid them each in pound notes and they left to spend their wages and their evening on a bottle.

“You paid them with the notes I gave you?” asked the doctor. The inspector nodded grimly in the affirmative. “Then we should avoid some of those unfortunate circumstances from last time. When those men wake up, they will find themselves a few pounds richer and not remember how.”

“That sort is more likely to drink it all by morning.” retorted the Inspector. “I’ll contact you tomorrow to see your results.”

“You do not wish to observe this time?” asked the doctor, his face taking on his youthfully devious appearance.

“No. I most certainly don’t.” said the Inspector resolutely.

“Until tomorrow then, Heir Inspector.”

 

The next day, Grierson walked through the dim morning towards the Doctor’s lair; trying to ignore the pounding in his head and to not stumble on his way. Luckily, he made it to the warehouse’s rear entrance without casual observers guessing his hungover state or his illegal intentions. He knocked thrice on the decrepit door and waited for the doctor to open.

“Coming.” Answered the doctor in an inappropriately cheery voice.  The doctor took the Inspector to his workspace in the middle of the warehouse. Looking around Grierson’s gaze was pulled to the tainted vials and bloody instruments of the doctor’s work strewn across tables set in a semicircle around his vacant crimson operating table; a grotesque amphitheater where an imaginary audience could have observed the spectacle. The night had been a busy one. Another thing the Inspector had noticed about the doctor was his ability to function without sleep. It seemed that when he worked, the energy of his perverse excitement and relish were enough to sustain him. And as Grierson surveyed the grizzly scene the doctor seated himself at his makeshift desk to organize his notes.

Laying on the couch, as if posed for a painting, was what had been Miss White. Dressed as if she had just come back home from a day of work and was taking a short nap. A scene that would be pleasant and relaxing, made grizzly and horrible by being set in the doctor’s macabre theater.

Grierson looked grimly at the head on the couch. “You’ve changed the face again.” He said.

“And a few other things, that you may have been able to notice if you were at your full abilities. I trust that you see the practicality of it after what happened when I deferred to your sentimentalities.” The doctor said smiling.

“What have you learned?”

“First of all, the forensic scientist that examined this girl has all the delicacy of a gorilla. I almost missed the deadline cleaning up his mess.”

“What have you learned About Her Death?”

“Well firstly, the gorilla was correct in his conclusion that the girl was poisoned; presumably the same as the other victims. A rather obvious conclusion given that there were no signs of struggle on the body and the generally peaceful set of her expression. I’ve furthermore been able to identify the poison. It appears to be a mixture of reptile and insect venoms, primarily of a neurotoxic nature.” The Inspector raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Meaning mien friend, that the girl, and the other victims, likely felt no pain; to her, it would have been like falling asleep. But that is why the poison was so hard to identify.”

“Why would the murder go so far to make sure they did not suffer?”

“It is not so much that they did not suffer, but that they died quickly. A drop of this toxin could kill ten men in a matter of seconds.  To be able to make something this masterful reveals that your man is of a great intellect. Not only does he have the knowledge and means of concocting this poison, but he has the skill to administer it without his victims realizing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Any barbarian can stab someone with a syringe, but only someone trained can do it without causing pain, or do it on the street without being detected. There are only so many men in this city that fall under that description I have a list here, but it is still rather large.”

Grierson let his eyes settle on the form of the former Miss White lying on a couch to the left of the doctor’s desk. “Anything else?”

“I am afraid not, we will know more after she Awakes.”