Clive Walters sat at the table in the dimly lit cafe, a cup of weak coffee in his hand. His phone was buzzing with a message, and he supposed that sooner or later he was going to have to look at it. He knew what that buzzing meant, anyway. It meant that someone had found a body.
Sighing, he reached for the phone and read the message displayed on the front screen. He was right, of course. Another sigh escaped from his lips and he stood, pushing the cup of coffee away and dropping several coins on the table to pay. He saw no real reason why he had to pay for such a weak coffee but it was not the sort of thing he was willing to argue about. Clive was well known for his civility.
He took a taxi to the site where the body had been found, one of the private piers off the city's west coast. There was already a small crowd of other NSD agents already there, covering the area in crime scene tape and several onlookers hoping to catch a glimpse of the body. Clive sighed. He had never understood why it was that these people were so eager to see a dead body. He had to work with them every other day, and he could guarantee each and every member of that crowd that they wouldn't enjoy it anywhere near as much if they were in his position.
"Agent Walters!" One of the other agents called out to him and Clive looked over. Another sigh. He was going to have to look at the body now.
Detective Damien Reynolds was waiting for him at the end of the pier. He smiled very slightly as he saw Clive and ran fingers through his thick brown hair almost nervously. "The body's through here," he told him, gesturing behind him.
Clive looked over. "A boat?"
Reynolds shook his head. "No. A yacht. More precisely, that is a mega yacht. Usually designed for large groups, about one hundred people, the ultimate boats in size, facilities and in luxury. These boats can have anything. Swimming pools, discos, cinemas, spas…you name it, they've got it."
"How is this relevant to the case?"
"We can't even be sure there is a case yet," Reynolds replied. "You're the expert. You'll have to tell us if this is murder or not."
Despite his dislike of looking at dead bodies, Clive found that he was surprisingly good at his job. He wasn't even sure why he took this job in the first place. But now he was stuck with it and had been doing quite well for the past few years, which would explain why he never gave up the job. At Reynolds's request he nodded and stood, walking onto the boat with an incredible lack of interest as he did so. It was an enormous boat, and just as Reynolds had assured him it had every single one of the ridiculous facilities. It took him a moment or two before he found his way out onto the main deck, which for some unknown reason appeared to have a swimming pool in the middle of it. This pool was surrounding by a few comfortable looking white deck chairs, heavily cushioned, although there seemed to be no real reason for this. Each of these had a small metallic table beside it, one of them at that moment still being used to hold a large glass. It was beside this table that the deckchair with the body was.
The body had clearly not been there for too long. It was male, Clive could tell that immediately, not only because he was evidently wearing swimming trunks on the almost fleshless body that remained. Pulling on the typical latex gloves he approached the body and pulled at one of the strands of blonde hair that remained on the skull, now glued to the side of his head where one light blue eye still remained in the socket. The other appeared to have melted away by now from the exposure to bare sunlight for several hours. tThe top of the head had dried blood emerging from some sort of wound in the back of the skull. It was impossible to tell what until further analysis had been done, but it was a definite sign of foul play.
Clive frowned and then looked up at Reynolds, who had an expectant expression on his face. He was clearly waiting for some sort of verdict. Clive nodded. "There is a large indentation on the back of the head, it appears he was hit by some sort of blunt weapon. The victim is clearly male, but further identification is clearly required, although it should not be too difficult, as his teeth appear to be intact and dental records should be easy to obtain."
"No need," Reynolds answered, a slight smirk of smugness showing through. "We already managed to trace the boat's serial number. Not many mega yachts around obviously. Anyway, this particular one is the largest in the city, owned by Clark Candecelli."
At these words Clive's face turned a slightly paler shade than it usually was. "Clark? Clark Candecelli? As…as in Candy Malls?" He looked at the body once more. "This…this is the body of a boy, perhaps between the ages of fifteen and twenty."
"His son then," Reynolds replied, looking over some records on his phone. Clive never understood how he did it, acted so calm when something like this was going on. There was the body of a boy lying in front of them, something like that couldn't possibly be ignored the way Reynolds seemed to do so effortlessly. But here he was, doing exactly that. It was a moment or two before he looked up again. "Yep. Records do show that Clive Candecelli had a son, Lysander Candecelli, aged seventeen. Generally forbidden from leaving the estate although exceptions were often made. Had a modelling contract with Arenci."
"Had?"
Reynolds looked uncomfortable. "Well, he's dead now, isn't he?"
"We don't know that yet," Clive replied. Of course, all the signs pointed towards this being the Candecelli boy, but someone else could have been using that boat at the time. They had no way of knowing until they did a proper investigation and dental records were checked. "We need to get this body back to the lab and check his teeth, not to mention get one of those facial reconstructions done. Once we've done that we can be sure of the identity."
This seemed to annoy Reynolds, because he was the sort of person who liked to be the one to tell people the bad news. And he was good at it too. When he was there, there seemed to be less crying than when he wasn't. He had a certain charisma about him, and Clive had to admit he was glad the man did, because without that he wasn't sure what he would do.
It took a short while to load the body into their van to transport it back to the institute, a large, brick red building where the majority of NSD cases were investigated. It wasn't the best place, of course, but as far as facilities went it was rather good. The main lab had enough room for it to be a comfortable work space, and Clive was glad for that.
A half hour later, the body had been moved from van to workspace and was lying on a cold metal slab in the centre of the room, the deckchair and glass also having been moved. Clive was standing over at it, awaiting the arrival of his usual partner in situations such as this, drumming his fingernails on the table. He couldn't remember the journey back from the pier, only taking a seat in the van and later finding himself here, but things appeared to have gone well.
Emily was a young woman but did very well in her field of work, which often surprised Clive. She was one of the calmer people at the lab, not allowing her personal life to ever interrupt her work, and refusing to talk about it. It wasn't like anyone else there minded to be honest, as she did so well. She smiled at Clive brightly and then looked down at the body.
"Have the dental records come in yet?"
"No."
A sigh. Emily seemed to dislike not having a body with an ID. "Fine. I'll see what I can find out. Reynolds told me it was the Candecelli boy. If it is then we've got a clear motive considering all that money."
Clive nodded. She was right, after all. If there was any motive for killing a Candecelli it was to get ahold of a fortune amassing to over seven hundred billion dollars. He wasn't really sure what the man did with all that money, but it must have been something good because he kept making more.
"Definitely a chance." He was jerked out of his thoughts by Emily, who was gesturing at the body.
"What?"
Emily frowned. It was obvious she knew that he hadn't been paying attention to anything she had just said, but she wasn't the sort to bring that up now. With a roll of her dark brown eyes she gestured towards the body once again. "I said it's definitely plausible that it's the Candecelli boy. He's around seventeen, judging by the wear to his jaw and from what I can tell was most certainly quite promiscuous. That was in the papers recently, wasn't it? Some affair with the Italian ambassador's daughter? Anyway, the hair is blonde, height six foot three, most definitely fits the profile. I've got Irwin in with the dental records in a moment. He just sent me a message." She gestured to the phone lying on the metal table beside her.
A look at the message proved to Clive that Irwin did indeed have the dental records and would be bringing them round in a moment, although at present he was positive that it was Lysander Candecelli. It was mere moments after he had read this message that the door burst open to reveal a man who could have been anywhere between his late twenties to his mid forties. Clive had never known how to understand him, but simply accepted Irwin because he was allegedly the very best in his field of work. He was extraordinarily tall, wore his light brown hair in a short ponytail and generally refused to wear a suit except on Fridays. He called this 'formal Fridays' and said that it made more sense than a casual Fridays because there was alliteration or something of that sort. He grinned at the pair of them, a pile of X-rays in his hand and slammed them down on the table.
"Records are in!" he informed them, spreading out the sheets of paper to match the postmortem ones with the antemortem ones. "These are definitely the same teeth. Look." Irwin pointed at a light patch on one of the teeth that was present on both of the X-rays. "These are definitely both the same filling. For some reason it's made of gold, but that's definitely because this is definitely Lysander Candecelli, which means he's definitely able to afford that. Most definitely." Definitely was Irwin's favourite word.
"Sorry, the fillings are made of gold?" Emily confirmed. "That's not going to help at all, I hope he knows." Not that it mattered anymore, thought Clive, seeing as he was dead, but he supposed Emily had a right to argue.
"Yep, solid gold. Well, it was definitely molten at some point, but now it's definitely not." He grinned at Emily as though this was some great joke. "His father would have definitely paid a lot for that."
Clive looked down at the body thoughtfully, worried about how Clark Candecelli would react to the news that his son was dead. He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment or two and then looked up at Irwin again. "Any missing persons reports? Can we be absolutely sure?"
Irwin nodded. "Yep. We can be definitely sure. Clark Candecelli definitely issued a missing persons report this morning at eight. The body doesn't appear to have been dead long enough for enough time to have passed for him to definitely be allowed to do so, but he did."
"He'd be worried," Clive answered. "A man with that fortune, it's a wonder he ever allowed his son out of the house. Apparently he was only permitted with security and for short periods of time, so if he didn't return more or less between the allotted window of time he was permitted out, then Clark would be sure to get nervous." That had been a known fact, often in the papers. Clark Candecelli had rarely allowed his son to leave, just in case something happened. "Especially since that senator's son was kidnapped."
A few weeks ago, someone had managed to kidnap the son of Richard Denvers, one of the most important men in the United States, heir to some of the largest fortunes on the planet. The ransom demanded had been just a little more than fifty million, and had been promptly paid. This resulted in over a week of waiting until the boy was finally delivered. Since then, things hadn't really been the same. People, especially those with higher net worths, had been especially worried for the welfare of their children.
"Hm…" Irwin seemed thoughtful and then shrugged. "Whatever the case, I'm definitely headed back to my office. I'm only a dentist, obviously, so I'm definitely not needed here." He gave them all a grin and turned to leave the room.
Emily looked up at Clive. "Looks like you and Reynolds are gonna have to go tell Clark what's happened to his son then."
It was getting into the late afternoon as Clive and Reynolds started the drive up to where the Candecelli family lived. The Summer wind was blowing gently, making the few leaves that had already started to fall as Autumn approached drift around the air in an almost lazy manner. Despite the evident sadness of the situation, Reynolds appeared to be in an excellent mood about things. Clive supposed that was going to make sure things went well.
Fortunately, it hadn't taken as long as it usually did for them to identify the body, as otherwise it could take countless days and many, many extra hours of work, something Clive did not particularly desire, of course. So today was a very rare occasion that made him feel very pleased indeed. He assumed that Reynolds' good mood might have had something to do with it as well.
It was two hours before they pulled up outside a large pair of wrought iron gates. Clive sighed. Of course they had security. It was obvious from the sheer fact of how important the man was. Meanwhile Reynolds was still thrilled.
"I can't believe we get to be involved in a case this huge!" he exclaimed excitedly, even though most wouldn't be so thrilled about a murder case.
"Huge?"
"Huge! Clark Candecelli is literally the second richest person on the entire planet! This is enormously huge."
Clive sighed, deciding not to question this as he flashed his NSD card at the intercom. It worked to allow the large gates to open and he smiled at the sight. "Second richest?" he asked after a moment, deciding to humour Reynolds as they started the drive up to the main house.
"Yeah. The richest is Henri Amereaux. Basically, if France still had royalty, he would be the King. It's all seriously confusing. The point is, if Clark Candecelli is the second richest man on the planet, the death of his son is going to be an enormous event and a lot of media is going to cover that. I'm surprised you even managed to get an appointment to see him. He has a lot of work."
Of course, Clive was fully aware what Reynolds meant. The Candecellis owned a large chain of malls across the United States, and there would be plenty of media covering what had happened once word got out. They were going to have to try and keep that as quiet as they could. Until necessary. But the NSD was generally able to get appointments where they needed to, due to how important the cause for them typically was.
It was a short while, perhaps just under ten minutes, when they reached the end of the driveway and found someone hurrying towards them in a rather nice suit indeed. The man offered them both a small bow and then asked: "Would you like someone to take the car for you, sirs? Mr Candecelli will meet you in his office. I shall show you both the way if you would like."
Clive nodded calmly in response to both of these questions at once, whilst Reynolds gazed on in awe. He found the place fascinating, or so it seemed, and Clive supposed he had good reason for that. The gardens were extensive, and as soon as he saw the house it became clear why. It was even larger than expected, all looking as though it had been built in the mid-1800s, although the top floor of the building looked completely different, much more modern. It was probably the location of all the offices and such things, or so Clive assumed. Where else would they keep all of their computers and such? Certainly not in the old fashioned parts.
The doors were opened by another of the men in suits, who gestured inside. The inside was, of course, just as lavishly decorated as the outside suggested. They passed though a wide variety of halls until they reached a large office. Huh. It seemed as though he was wrong about the location of the offices.
Clark Candecelli was a relatively short man, which made the apparent height of his son relatively more confusing, with light brown hair and the beginnings of a moustache. He was seated at a large oak table with a great amount of files lying in front of him, although he stood up as the pair entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Mr Walters, Mr Reynolds," he smiled at the two of them as he did so. I heard you wanted to speak with me regarding Lysander?" Saying this the smile lessened very slightly. News from the NSD was rarely good. And, to make it perhaps a little worse, he had issued that missing persons report. "Dear lord, he didn't get involved with that girl again, did he?" Clearly another visit from reporters was not desired.
Reynolds shook his head. "No, Mr Candecelli. I…I don't exactly know how to put this…I'm very sorry, but…but it seems we've found a body…your….your son's body, to be precise. I really am sorry."
There really was no easy way to say it, and there was no easy reaction. Working with cases like this every day, Clive didn't really feel the sadness of the deaths, but he understood exactly how it was Clark felt at the news of his son's death. It was never an easy thing to deal with, after all. The man sank down into his seat, some tears starting to form. "Are…" He was choking on his words. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. We really are so sorry. Please, take your time."
Clark nodded, as if he understood what they were saying now and rested his head on his hands. "Do you have any ideas what happened?" he asked after a moment, taking a handkerchief from the table and wiping his eyes to dry them. "Was it some sort of kidnapping?"
This time it was Clive who shook his head. "Not a kidnapping, we don't think. Would you happen to recognise a yacht called-"
"Megayacht," Reynolds interrupted almost immediately.
Clive rolled his eyes and started speaking again. "Would you happen to recognise a megayacht called The Releaser?" he repeated.
"Yes, yes," Clark replied. "That's Lysander's yacht. I bought that for him when he was eight. Was…was that where he was killed?"
"We believe so. Would it be possible to take a look around his room?"
Clark shrugged. "Of course. I gave him the penthouse, that entire modern section at the top of the house. Now, if you would excuse me, I believe I am going to need a few moments."
The two agents nodded and instead made their way over to the elevator Clark had gestured at, pressing the button in it that was simply marked with the word 'Lysander'. It was a short ride up, for despite the size of the house it was relatively flat, and soon they found the doors opening onto an incredibly modern room. The large bed was situated right in the centre, a round one, with a large round television seemingly floating around it as well. Clive was somewhat mesmerised by this technology. His own home was far less equipped. But, he supposed the wealth of the family made that clear. According to media, they were often being asked to try out new products, and it appeared their son was no exception to this.
"What are we looking for?" Reynolds asked after a few moments of the two of them standing there and staring at all the rather amazing items in there.
"Anything out of the ordinary, I 're good at that psychological profiling stuff, aren't you? Besides, we don't have that much time. I don't want to be here after dark to be honest. It's too far from the main city for us to get back before about midnight."
"Everything is out of the ordinary for me!" Reynolds shouted back as his response, although it seemed to be in a slightly humoured manner. "Besides, it seems to be a fairly normal bedroom if you take out all the stuff he apparently had to help test." He took a seat on the bed for a moment and then grinned. "Water bed. Awesome. Anyway…" It took a few moments for him to reach over and pull open one of the drawers under the bed. "Stuff in here is normal too. Teenage boy, teenage boy stuff. I'm not too sure we're going to find anything here. The boat was the murder sight, wasn't it? We should be focussing our attentions there rather than here."
Clive sighed. "Well, yeah, but firstly we need to do the psychological profile."
"But everything we want is in the papers, and the magazines, isn't it?" Reynolds dug around the drawers once again, pulling out all manner go things before he found a magazine. "Here, listen. 'Lysander Candecelli, son of billionaire Clark Candecelli, was recently involved in a scandal with international pop star Karla Bennett, when the two of them were caught upon his luxury yacht just outside of the bay. This has been considered particularly scandalous due to Karla Bennett's current known relationship with model Maximilian Denvers.' See? Everything we needed to know is right there."
Reynolds was most likely right, despite how little Clive wanted to admit it. "Fine. You're right. Then we'll just question the model and the singer and we'll send a crew back out to the crime scene tomorrow morning."
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