Prologue

The city liked to swallow its citizens whole. As the growing wants of capitalism transcended ordinary decency and burst forth into a more obscene caricature of social stratification, more and more would fall into the abyss. It caught them in the hospitals, publicly- funded and bursting at the seams with patients, but few support staff to genuinely help them. In the time of Covid, patients would lie face down with tubes protruding through every orifice imaginable while awaiting a possible death.

Sometimes the city would offer up its little sacrifices through domestic violence ,an AVO here and murder suicide perpetuated by a horrible divorce there, and if they were feeling truly creative, it would occasionally provide a gruesome homicide.

They wouldn't be honoured by a bountiful harvest: just more debt and more drought, combined with a growing sense of world-weariness. Cracks would open up in the lower socio economic portals and those of a lower status would slide down its ragged edges. Sometimes deserving but mostly not. A tick from Column A or Column B. The first victim that was sent her way was the deserving kind.

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It was the last delivery he would ever make. He was the middle management of the criminal underworld; a man who worked with his hands. This meant doing any number of odd jobs from picking up cash in the day and stacking up bodies in the night. On this particular day he was wearing a leather jacket and levi 501s which meant it was a special day - just pick ups before he would make his routine along the M2 to see his mistress. After his weekly round of afternoon delight complete with happy ending, he would head back to his long-time girlfriend.

He was hoping to work his way up- like any good vocation there was a ladder and after each pick-up and odd job he could visualise his way up to the top of the Falconio empire. In spite of the times, business was still good and people were willing to pay top dollar to sink into oblivion. After washing off the massage oil and Pacco Raban aftershave, he had one more pickup to make out in the western suburbs.

There was no tension or an unusual sixth sense the moment before he was knocked out; a distinct lack of electricity in the air because he was comfortable. He arrived outside his last house on the edge of a leafy green suburb on the outer edges of a national park. It was a perfectly isolated spot. It was the black dead light that came with no moon and there was no silhouette to reveal the act of evil to follow. As he opened his car door, his assailant approached from behind and knocked him out cold right besides the car boot. In a matter of seconds, he was stowed away and inside the back of the car unconscious, oblivious for now to the horrors that would ensue in the nearby woods. It would be weeks later before the body would finally be discovered, only then would his narrative unfold.

Chapter One

It was a golden age for homicide, especially in Australia. The lucky country indeed as homicide rates continued to tumble down, and with a 90 per cent success rate in solving them, life was thriving in the merry old land of Oz. Most ordinary Australians could remain in a blissful ignorance of some of the atrocities that went on out in the bushland or lurking in Suburbia. The rising deep covered many sins and could unearth a scarred history that lay beneath the odd emerging suburb. Unfortunately she was no ordinary Australian, and she didn't deal in ordinary. There was still the odd murder and among them was that particular case that would get away from you or affect you for the rest of your life. Like the statistics she had a near flawless clearance rate. So that when orders came from up high to move to the next high profile case, she knew she had their confidence.

Discoveries were often made early morning, usually by a jogger or someone walking their dog. Summers in the city could become less than idealistic, the rising temperatures would soar during the peak of January and combined with the humidity, people were quick to sweat bullets, with their eyes stinging red from the beads rolling down their forehead or the smoky haze as another bushfire threatened to envelop them in the hills. Most joggers preferred to take their ritual into the early morning and preferably shady tree-lined areas to avoid the rising sun.

They allowed their border collie off the lead before allowing it a quick sniff and a pace around the bush, this was quite normal until that startling moment that it wasn't. The Border Collie's tail wagged vigorously and it started frantically sniffing away. Its owner called to it, with the dog hurriedly bounding back. She reached down to see what it had in its mouth, only to see a hand protruding out of its mesh of teeth and jaw. Luckily she hadn't anything to eat that morning or the bile she was steadily retching out of her mouth would have been quite substantial. With tail still waggling with a wilful exuberance, she clumsily put the dog's lead back on before fumbling for her phone and making the call.

Mornings were tough especially when a rotting corpse with the stench of carnage was staring right at you, eyes boring into you as if to say 'save me.' Detective Sergeant Hensley learned very quickly not to wear anything too nice on the job, in case the smell decided to cling to her clothes. It's something they didn't really teach people at the academy and something all the various crime scene shows neglected to represent. Law and Order didn't come with smellovision. It also didn't help that they were in the middle of a heat wave - sweltering days that hit 40 deg celsius. To make matters worse, she was covered in protective gear and felt like a human sized prophylactic, cooking on the inside like a special microwave bag complete with its own overstuffed human morsel bubbling away inside.

Each crime scene she treated with the respect it deserved, like her first days of training. Look up from the ground and remember it was three-dimensional. Words of wisdom from her previous mentor. One of her crew: Detective Blake, hovered over her shoulder. He couldn't help but remark "Got to love that fucking smell, don't you? Coffee?"

"I don't think so." He continued to hover and looked over at her with a puzzled look on his face.

"I mean fuck no. I'd rather drink it in a place that doesn't smell like Satan's butthole."

"Now that's better... Fine I'll give to Bruce over here."

Another thing they didn't cover on CSI: swearing profusely on the job was a way of coping and also a rite of passage - especially with the old guard. It was quite often a healthy by-product of the job and paved the way for some terrible jokes and anecdotes.

Li stopped addressing the constable and turned back to Blake. "Different spelling of Li, you racist prick. Besides you've used that one before."

Blake laughed.

"I suppose you think we all look the same too?"

Blake waved a hand at him before observing the camera operator, who was panning across the bushes before tilting upwards towards the body. He interrupted Hensley, who was panning across with her own 20/20 vision.

"What do you think we have here?" he asked.

"Even before they were hacked off, the hands were tied. You can see the rings around the wrists and congealing blood. The head appears to be hacked off and in one swoop. I'm guessing for practicality's sake, it was a machete."

Li added to the conversation.

"We won't know everything till the forensics team run more tests, but this looks like a message."

"I agree, tattoos on this guy's forearm suggest involvement with organised crime and decapitation often suggests a display of power, a warning about turf perhaps?"

Blake couldn't help but get involved in the conversation.

"I'll have to hit the street and see if one of our stoolies knows anything."

"In the meantime, we'll stay with the forensics team here and record everything they can."

Hensley gestured for the camera operator to walk over near the edge of the pathway.

"Make sure you record these tyre marks in the grass and look for any further disruptions to this  area."

She was given a polite nod before scanning the area herself. The camera merely recorded. The human brain in an instant recorded, analysed and evaluated critical information, all the while the smell continued to permeate her other senses.