Date: Sun, 9 Feb 2014 15:54:59 -0500
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Psychic Detective 4

Psychic Detective 4
Göran Svenson Examines the Crime Scene on No Name Island
By: Jake Preston

This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a
murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in
other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes
recreational, and almost always described explicitly. My attention is
equally divided between narrative, character development, and sex
scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there are many other
excellent "nifty" stories to choose from.  And remember that while nifty
stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think about donating
at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on
nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters
and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions
for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!

Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com

      *  *  *  *  *  *

Chapter 4
Göran Svenson Examines the Crime Scene on No Name Island


	Early Thursday morning, the 3rd of July, Tom Preston, Anna Ravitch,
and Göran Svenson sat at breakfast when Dudley Nelson—the Deputy
Sheriff for Ashawa and the Lake Country— showed up at Wayward Island
Lodge and demanded to see "Dmitri Zarvopoulos and David Gabrioli." (He read
their names from his notebook.) "What sort of names are they, anyway?  Must
be foreigners," he said. "Well, well, well, Sergeant Svenson! What brings
you to these parts? I've just paid a visit to No Name Island, and a
gruesome scene it was, too, a homosexual murder. And I've found evidence of
other homosexual activity on the island." He held up the lube-tube, and
baggie containing one condom.

	"Surely you know that Sheriff Matthews assigned me to be the lead
investigator in this case," Svenson said. "I spoke with Dmitri and David
last night. I know about your so-called evidence. It has nothing to do with
the murders. I hope you left the crime scene intact, Deputy Nelson."

	"I tromped around a bit, no more than others," Nelson
taunted. "Anyway, I'm here to arrest these lads, Zavoo-whatsis and the
Angel Gabriel, as being concerned in the murders."

	Anna Ravitch wondered if the Deputy was already drunk at this early
hour. He had been known to carry a flask in his jockey-box. Quietly she
left the restaurant. She hustled upstairs to Dmitri's room and told the
boys to exit the Lodge by a fire-escape ladder. She met them on the ground
below, and led them through the wooded path to the home of Ben Hasek and
Sam Black Bear. "We must find a way to keep these boys out of Nelson's
reach," she told Black Bear.  "Take them to Dark Eagle's home in Crane
Lake."

	Meanwhile, Sergeant Svenson argued with Nelson. "The murders took
place last summer or spring, maybe earlier," he said. Dmitri was in Peugeot
Sound, Washington, and David was in Seaside, South Carolina, at that
time. They found the bodies, but there's no way that they could have been
involved in the crimes."

	"Hah! A homosexual cult murder, on an island visited by homosexuals
who party and commit murder, and you say they're not involved? No doubt
they are part of the homosexual agenda, and that includes conspiracies and
cults. They probably came here because of the cult.  Homosexuals breed
cults instead of children. Cults breed conspiracies, and conspiracies
result in ritual murders. That's the connection. If they didn't do the
murders themselves, they know who did. They probably cavorted with the
culprits. My interrogation methods will get the information out of them,
you'll see!" Deputy Nelson said.

	"No Name Island is my crime scene, and these murders are my case,"
Svenson said. "If your interference persists, I'll have you arrested for
obstruction."

	"You're not my superior, Svenson. You're only a Detective
Sergeant. You can't arrest me," Nelson said. "I'm sure Sheriff Matthews
will see things my way when I interrogate these boys and acquaint him with
the facts."

	Tom glanced out the window and saw Sam Black Bear's car drive by,
with Mrs. Ravitch riding shotgun. Dmitri and David had ducked for cover in
the back seat. "Deputy Nelson," he said, "you can check their rooms if you
wish. I haven't seen them yet this morning."

	"Yeah, sleeping in after another night of pre-version," Nelson
scowled. He brandished two pairs of handcuffs.

	"Handcuffs for witnesses? I must protest," Svenson said.

	"Third floor," Tom called to Nelson as he clambered up the
stairs. His mood had not improved when he came back empty handed.

	"So where are they, Svenson?" he scowled.

	"You made so much noise coming in, Deputy Nelson, that I suppose
they heard you and flew the coop, as any innocent person would do," Svenson
said, calmly. "In the meantime, since you won't recognize my authority,
you'll understand why I don't recognize yours. I suggest that you take any
complaints directly to Sheriff Matthews."

	Nelson stomped out of the Lodge, his face beet-red. From his patrol
car he called for an all-points bulletin on "Zoo-whatsisname and Angel
Gabriel." His secretary asked for a description of the fugitives. All he
could say was "Look for a pair of fairies." He went back to the Lodge and
demanded a description. Sergeant Svenson had already taken a boat to No
Name Island, Tom said. He refused to say more.

	Göran Svenson pulled his boat up the same smooth rock that
Dmitri and David used the day before. He walked along the shore,
reconnoitering the island. He found the lichen-covered ledge, and the mossy
hollow below. He pocketed a half-used condom. "It's a good thing Nelson was
too unobservant to find this," he thought to himself. He heard a
motorboat. It was Tom, ferrying Detective Inspector Harvey Winik.

	"So you beat me to the crime scene, Sergeant," Winik said.

	"Not at all," Svenson replied. "I've been walking the shoreline
while waiting for you. I thought it best that we view the crime scene
together, since you have more experience in this sort of thing. We should
let Tom come with us. He's lived on Lake Ashawa since before we were born,
and he knows the island. Deputy Nelson was here earlier this morning."

	"Dudley Nelson? When did he get back in office?" Winik asked.

	"About a year ago," Svenson said. "The real question is: how did he
get back in office?"

	"On that we agree," Winik said.

	"I think you'll find that we agree on many things, Sir," Svenson
said. He called Tom Preston. Svenson and Winik waited for him on the
smooth-rock landing on the north side of the island, and looked it over for
signs of intruders. Svenson noticed a cluster of ferns, some of them bent
or crushed. "This looks like a path for two," Svenson said. "It could have
been two perps, or it could have been Dmitri and David."

	Tom was intrigued by the way that Winik and Svenson looked at the
three skeletal corpses when they reached the clearing in the center of the
island. The gruesome panorama didn't shock them. Dispassionate, they gazed
at the scene in sections while Svenson relayed details on his cellphone,
directly to Sheriff Matthews's office in Duluth. His words would be
transcribed and sent back to him in Ashawa. Inspector Winik took photos to
accompany Svenson's narrative: "Thursday, July 3, 2014, 8:02 AM, No Name
Island, Lake Ashawa, in a clearing at or near the center of the island,
about five miles northeast of Wayward Island Resort.  Victim number one:
five-foot-eight skeletal male suspended face-down, by three eight-foot
lengths of three-quarter hemp. Both wrists tied with rope number one,
attached to a white pine ten inches in diameter. Right ankle tied with rope
number two, attached to a white pine eight inches in diameter. Left ankle
tied to rope number three, attached to a birch eight inches in
diameter. Legs of victim number one are separated by a forty degree
angle. Corrugated steel rod runs through the pelvis, along the spine, and
up to the throat area of victim number one. Note: the corrugated rod was
not mentioned in witness report. It probably was stolen from a local
construction site."

	"You spoke to the witnesses?" Winik asked.

	"Two college boys who work at the Lodge," Svenson said. "I
interviewed them last night.  They were waiting for me when I arrived. Note
for the record: my witness report will be transcribed and sent this
afternoon."

	"Could you turn that contraption off for a minute?" Winik
asked. Svenson muted the cellphone. "I understand the witnesses have gone
missing," he said.

	"I wouldn't say that. I'm sure they've gone into hiding, since
Nelson was planning to arrest them. He's got it into his head that the
homicides are part of a homosexual cult of some sort. He thinks that the
college boys were part of it. Imagine that, for a crime committed a year
ago, at a time when they were living on opposite sides of the country."

	"Well, Nelson's a fool," Winik said.

	"Earlier this morning, Nelson came to the Lodge and bragged about
he would beat a confession out of the college boys. He wants to upstage the
investigation by handing Sheriff Matthews a confession, or rather, two
confessions patched together to make a composite narrative. While he was
going on about this, the boys ducked out. Nelson wanted me to help him hunt
them down, but my job was to get to this island before the crime scene gets
run over by tourists, as will probably happen tomorrow."

	"Our only witnesses..." Winik said.

	"Not to worry; they'll turn up when we need them. But we need to
keep Nelson away from them. If he scares the crap out of them they won't
tell us anything useful. In any case, I don't put much stock in
confessions, especially confessions made during an interrogation," Svenson
said.

	"Just when we were starting to get along," Winik scowled, but his
remark was intended as ironic humor. Sergeant Svenson was notorious in the
Sheriff's Office for poking holes in confessions. `A confession is just an
evidential artefact, like a detail in a crime scene', he used to say. `Just
as a crime scene can be contaminated by unwelcome intruders, a confession
can be contaminated by an interrogator, or by a panicky witness. The more
aggressive the interrogator, the more contaminated the confession'.

	"I wonder if we could prevail on Nelson to check out local
construction sites for corrugated rods that match to our crime scene?"
Svenson asked. "At least we'd know one location where the culprits had
been."

	"Can you turn that thing on and move on to victims two and three?"
Winik said.

	Svenson unmuted the cellphone. "About ten feet south of victim
number one," he continued, "a fire-pit consisting of eight stones, no, make
that nine stones in a circle, possibly for ceremonial use. Hypothesis: a
fire was built to heat the corrugated rod, which then was passed through
the anus of victim number one, thrust along his spine and up to his throat,
thereby administering as much pain as possible to victim number one."

	"Blimey!" Winik exclaimed.

	"Hypothesis: the fire-pit signifies South; the victim is suspended
pointing North. We might have some ideas about this when the scene has been
examined by our two Ojibwe consultants, Shaman Dark Eagle and Red Hawk."

	Winik looked at Svenson, astonished. This was the first time he'd
heard about civilian consultants, something that always met with
disapproval from him. But he was blown away by Svenson's observations, so
he kept silent. Svenson continued: "Three feet... Make that three to four
feet north of victim number one, north of the skull, six bits of dyed
poultry feathers, probable remains of a dime-store Indian
headdress. Hypothesis: victim number one was wearing a costume headdress
when he was murdered. It might be evidence that the scene was staged to
look Native American."

	"Well, that enlarges the field of suspects," Winik muttered.

	Svenson muted the cellphone and said, "We don't have any
suspects. The field is wide open." He unmuted the cellphone and continued:
"Victim number one, skull with strands of long dark hair, possibly Native
American."

	Svenson muted the cellphone again. "Before we move on to victims
two and three, let's look again at victim number one. There is something
else here that we haven't yet noticed. I can't say why. I just feel that
we've missed something."

	"Use your powers, Sherlock," Winik said, quoting an old movie.

	Svenson placed his index finger on the skull and pressed gently. He
moved it away suddenly, as if startled by an electrified shock. "Manitou!"
he exclaimed.

` "Manitou, what is that?" Winik asked.

	"I'm not sure," Svenson said. "That's what I'm getting:
Manitou. Maybe the victim's last thought was a prayer to Manitou, pleading
for help. Maybe the victim was staged to impersonate Manitou. Maybe the
victim was staged as a parody of Manitou."

	"Maybe you're making this up, Sergeant Svenson," Winik said.

	"That's possible," Svenson said. "Here we find a victim suspended
face-down, as if he was flying northward in the air, and wearing a
fake-feathered headdress. Maybe that's what made me think of Manitou."

	Winik and Svenson knelt beside the two skeletal bodies on the
ground. Svenson continued recording: "Victim number two, prone on his back,
arms stretched out, with his skull just below the feet of victim number
one. Traces of light brown hair near the skull; this man is a
five-foot-eight Caucasian. The bones appear to be picked clean by crows or
turkey-vultures.  Note to the Crime Lab: look for hair particles, missing
teeth, and remains of bird-droppings.  Now we're looking at victim number
three. Victim number three is positioned face down. His skull rests in the
pelvis of victim number two. Bones are picked clean by raptors. Height is
about five-foot-six. To judge by dark brown hair particles, he could be
either Caucasian or Native American, a male in his twenties."

      Svenson lay flat on the ground to examine the skull. "Victim number
three appears to have four dental fillings," he said.

      "Our first real breakthrough in the case," Winik said.

      Svenson continued: "Victim number three: attached to the jawbone of
victim number two. The arms of victim number three are stretched outward,
in the same position as the arms of victim number two. Please note the
presence of a pencil-thin strip of darkened, shriveled skin, possibly the
penis of victim number two. Hypothesis: victim number three bit off the
penis of victim number two, probably under torture. Both victims had their
arms stretched laterally and staked to the ground at the wrists. It is
possible that victim number three choked to death on the penis of victim
number two."

      "What a hideous crime-scene!" Winik exclaimed.

      Svenson maintained his clinical composure. He placed an index finger
on the skull of victim number three. "Nothing more here," he said. He
placed an index finger on the skull of victim number two. "Oh!" he
exclaimed. He got up, and stood midway between the skeletons and the
fire-pit, facing north.

      "You know something else, Sergeant," Winik said.

      "Well, I know that victim number two did not die a happy man,"
Svenson said.

      "I could have told you that, Sergeant."

      "You're right, there is something else, Inspector," Svenson
said. "There are two more bodies on this island, east and west. That's what
the arms of victims number two and three are pointing to."

      "How can you know that?" Winik asked, skeptically.

      "We have to make a thorough search of the island, in any case,"
Svenson said. "I've hired an anthropologist named Red Hawk to start this
afternoon. Just him; I don't want this island tromped over by a troop of
amateurs."

      "Any general conclusions, Sergeant?" Winik asked.

      "We can rule out murder-suicide," Svenson said. "Three males, two
Caucasian and one Native American, tortured and murdered by two or more
perps. The Indian was killed first. The others were staked to the ground at
the wrists and strangled. The torture and murder had Native American and
homosexual content or symbolism, but this seems staged, as if it's intended
to confuse us."