Fire Tombs

"The pride of those

who can’t build,

is to destroy."

Alexandre Dumas

(1802-1870) French writer

"Who doesn’t punish evil,

Orders for it to be done"

Leonardo Da Vinci

(1452-1519) Italian Painter, sculptor and inventor

––––––––

"The world isn’t in danger

Due to bad people, but

Due to those who allow evil."

Albert Einstein

(1879-1955) German scientist, nationalized American

To you, who always

will be my inspiration source

I love you.

Prologue

The harmony of Chopin’s Water Drop’s prelude’s notes resonating through the iPod’s earphones flooded each corner of their soul with peace.

Since their arrival to those hateful streets that composed the town of Besalú, they felt like a rare animal, rather each one of the Middle Age’s inhabitants, because they couldn’t be considered to be from the 21st century, was to be blamed of their mental instability. The constant whispering and pointing caused their internal discomfort.

They wanted to reveal themselves to what, with infinite insistence, was whispering to their brain one time and another, but they were no one to leave an already started master piece half done, they had the responsibility to finish it.

They moved, without stopping, the neck from one side to the other, trying to stretch it, that rhythmic movement managed them to focus and it was fundamental to do it, nothing could be out of their control, if they’d leave any loose ends it would be over.

They turned their eyes to the right, where their lover’s naked body lied nude, didn’t take much to convince him to get out of the small town’s asphyxia with the excuse of being eager to walk on the buzzy streets of a big city, they avoided showing the pleasure produced when he chose to go to a small summer house he had, in the outskirts of Barcelona.

Upon their arrival, they watched the enchantment emanating from each wood board composing the house and the forest surrounding it, giving intimacy. They took advantage of their lover’s somnolence state, caused by an intense wild sex session and alcohol, mixed with other substances, to walk around the vicinity, they had to check if they were alone in that picturesque place.

They went back to the construction, to see him in Morpheus’ arms, that gave them time they needed to review each corner of the rustic cottage. It wasn’t a house being used, its function was more like a tool shack, but the owner destined part of it to build a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. They deducted he had made it with the purpose of being unfaithful to his wife.

They closed their eyes, passing their hand on the tool filled wall inside of what they supposed to be the warehouse, the connection they felt with each one caused an excitement state that not even the house’s owner would have achieved.

With short steps, they approached the middle of the house, their knuckles passing on the irregular wood surface. The first flash came immediately, they forced themselves to hold the pleasuring moan the throat wanted to release.

On the bed was laying their naked lover’s body, they had taken care of the transfer from the bedroom to the wooden surface, dragging it to the house didn’t take much effort because they knew what to encounter once in the right place.

They examined the anatomy with the enthusiasm of what would soon happen, they wanted to prove if the investigations about the post mortem priapism were true or just an urban legend. They placed their hand on the leg, and started an ascending move until reaching the groin. First, they cocked with the pinky finger to then completely hold the dick with the remaining fingers, the muscle started showing its first symptoms of life, before their caress.

There was no rush to return to Besalú, they had all the time they needed to end the act with no rush, there was no need to hasten things when they could taste them once last time before coming back.

They supported the foot on the transversal board stabilizing the table, took some momentum to place themselves on top of him, facing backwards, they loved that position in which both were dominated at the same time. They grabbed the lover’s ankles to start a ride that would start the prelude of everything else.

When they were standing on the ground, they cleaned the sweat caused by the exercise from the forehead. They looked at their lover’s face, was still with the features relaxed, his aura was showing that state of peace only dead people can show.

They connected the iPod to the loud speaker, Chopin’s ability immediately wrapped the room. They took some time, before proceeding with their lover’s body.

They moved from one side to the other in front of the wall holding the tools that, surely, he would use both in the field and to keep the house in perfect condition. They grabbed a medium-sized saw, before returning next to him. They didn’t take long, their thirst for blood was rapidly increasing, they placed the saw on top of one of the ears, and in Chopin’s rhythm they cut it off. The process was repeated with the other ear.

They passed the back of the hand on their face, to clear any blood drops that may have splattered in the cutting process.

They looked at the stained tool, with it they couldn’t dismember the rest of the body, they needed something more resistant. They centered, once again, their attention on the wall holding the tools, a mechanical saw caught their attention. Even though it would take some time, they could tear the bones with it.

They passed the knuckles with premeditated parsimony on their arms, impregnating the with the blood he would gush until it reached their lips, cleaning it with the tip of their tongue, and savoring it as if it was the best of feasts. It was the first time they would dare to do something like that. Generally, they wouldn’t have the time nor the loneliness their lover offered with that trip, so they were happy for it.

They analyzed the divine work, and noticed there was a small detail to end. They studied how to remove the eyes out of their sockets to leave them empty, the mere thought caused their skin to ruffle.

— Why are you here and not in bed?

They got out of the sleepy state, listening him on their back, surrounding his face from afar. They showed a cunning smile as a reply, while shortening the distance.

1

Two years ago

Joan arrived at the city late in the afternoon, together with his loyal friend Neo, a small white poodle who she rescued from a certain death, before his particular disgrace would happen.

He would meet Stacy at the airport, in just over two hours, they kept contact via e-mail since she left the town to do her own trip, although it didn’t stop her from investigating, with him, fire cases who consumed two villas, leaving five bodies.

He entered the small office he installed in his villa, though the majority of the investigation was inside the wooden house’s vault. He stopped in front of the blackboard and updated the data there written.

He let himself get convinced by Stacy’s craziness, he knew the line of investigation she had done wouldn’t make sense, but seeing the low point his life was getting to was enough to join the cause. He told himself that, at least, the hours he would dedicate studying inexistent cases would stop him from thinking about his miserable existence.

He focused the last fire occurred in June of that same year. Something in the clues caught his attention.

— Maybe I mistyped it — he said loudly, while returning to the office to find the file’s copy.

He looked up the time of emergency calls and was surprised, when realizing the information was a perfect match.

— It can’t be — he commented, reading the report once again — How did this happen?

He abandoned the house without bothering to turn the lights off, he should inform detective Bassa immediately, it was crucial he knew the new discovered clue, since, with luck, he could pressure his superior to re-open the cases.

On the way to the Olot police station, he dialled his investigation colleague’s number, he was intuiting the plane would be in the sky at that time, but deducted she would see the message when she would land.

— Stacy, I’ve found something we missed, I believe I know where we have to start.

He turned the car’s bright lights on to have better visibility, that segment of the road was dark and it was usual for wild animals to cross.

He didn’t see it coming, only felt the hit that pushed him off the road straight to the big tree that forced him to move rapidly. The last he heard, before fading, was the intense horn sound, made by his head pressing the steering wheel.

2

Two years ago

The basement’s moisture was evident, as soon as the door would be open, she ignored the strong smell provoked by the moisture stains scattered around the house, she went down the stairs and closed the door behind her. Darkness vanished when she turned the light on and flooded the room with a white artificial light.

She looked at her improvised laboratory, she loved to spend hours in that dingy lace. Those creation moments would give her power over the victims when she would act, seeing them beg was so pleasant, she sometimes felt herself reaching the nirvana.

She swept her knuckles on the metal cold table placed in one side of the room, observing the wide variety of instruments she would use the most: pissette, autoclave, Woolf flask, Erlenmeyer flask, precipitate flasks, even the Kipp’s apparatus and the hydropneumatics cube, the rest was scattered around the shelves placed on the walls.

She dressed the white housecoat placed on the left wall’s hook and started creating the nervous paralyzing she’d use. She thought she didn’t have to be in the basement, but recent investigations made her act in a rush, that or soon she would be caught, and that she could not allow, a master piece was not complete and she needed more time to finish it.

In no rush, neither too slow, she created the perfect substance, years passed until she could perfect it, which made her delay her entry in scene, but in the end she was successful. She planned her first work years ago and she knew that, once finished, the world would know her divine work. She worked the whole morning, and part of the afternoon, with her senses on high alert, she didn’t wish anyone else to know her secret, it was her creation e she wouldn’t let herself be seen until it was complete. She locked the basement’s key before going up to her bedroom, observing the body that, still sleeping, was laying on the bed before entering the dressing room.

With her usual black clothes, she went down the stairs towards the garage. Entered the black sedan and drove through Besalú’s streets towards her destiny. The brown façade was in her eye of sight, after she did the last turn coming out of the urbanization. The familiar villa, placed at the entry of the woods, was her destiny. Surely, she would find her next victims, preparing the Christmas dinner.

She got off the car little by little, she wouldn’t wish the jar inside her jacket’s pocket to break, without it her perfect plan couldn’t be executed. Slowly, due to the snow cape hiding the ground, she moved forward until she reached the wood door adorned with a crafted Christmas motive filigree. She ringed the doorbell and waited for the door to be opened.

Mrs. Santaella widened her smile, seeing who was paying a visit in such a family day.

— Such a joy to see you! Merry Christmas! — she said, still smiling.

— Merry Christmas, Mrs Santaella! — They politely replied.

— Don’t be formal, we know for many years. Come in, it’s too cool outside. — In the hallway, they greeted the lady with two kisses — I thought you were out of town.

— I’ve decided to be home with my family for the holidays.

Mrs. Santaella made a guided tour around the house, before entering the kitchen, where the wood fireplace was warming the place.

— It is great news, there’s nothing better in dates like this than enjoying them with your loved ones.

— Is Stacy home? — they asked.

— No. She called this morning to confirm she can’t postpone the excursion and come back in time.

— Such same, I wanted to see her — They got up from the chair — I will let you having dinner.

— Wait, let me give you something to drink. Eduard will be happy to see you.

Leonor approached the fridge and took out the usual fruit punch without alcohol she would prepare every Christmas. She placed three glasses on the tray and accompanied them with the typical Christmas time sweets.

— Leonor, could you come her for a moment? — they heard Mr. Santaella screaming from another room in the house.

— I’m sorry, I’ll come back shortly — Leonor excused herself.

They waited a few moments before taking out the flask containing the substance that would let them immobilized. In the three glasses, they distributed it evenly and placed the flask inside the pocket once again. They looked at their bloody hands and expectantly smiled before the occurrences about to happen.

Mrs Leonor returned to the kitchen with her eternal smile, grabbed the tray and signalled them to accompany her to the living room. When they acknowledged, they were surprise not to see the remaining inhabitants. They saluted the family chief before taking a seat in front of them.

They drank a toast with the hosts and took the glass to the lips, lasting a bit until they were assured, they had ingested the fruit punch.

— Where is Arian? — they asked Mrs. Santaella.

— He will spend the holidays with her father. They were supposed to be in the village, but Jair had an issue in his work and he called two days ago two inform they weren’t coming either.

They wanted to reply, but the sound of smashing glass made their smile to widen, the liquid had done its effect. They looked at the Santaellas while standing up from their seat and leaving their intact glass on the table.

— Eduard, honey, I can’t move my arm — Leonor said, alarmed.

Her husband tried to get up, although he was only able to fall onto the ground.

Ignoring the couple’s calls for help, they turned the TV on and raised the volume to lessen their screams, even though it wasn’t likely they would be heard, the nearest neighbours were out of town. With no time to lose, they went out and came back with gas cans to sprinkle wherever they stepped.

— Why are you doing this? We treated you like one of us. — Leonor sobbed, agonized.

They looked at them with accumulated disregard and hate throughout the years.

— your dearest daughter is the one to blame, if she didn’t snoop around where she shouldn’t, this wouldn’t have happened.

— I don’t understand, my daughter likes you. What did she do to you?

— She investigated the fires in the city, I can’t allow to be captured before I finish my mater piece.

— You — Leonor affirmed, bemused.

They ignored the woman and finished impregnating the house with the propellant. In the middle of the room, they looked at their work, it wasn’t a job as perfect as the others, but time was urging. They turned the lighter on and brought it close to the curtain soaked in fuel in the main room, the first few flames didn’t take long to show. They repeated the process across the whole house, they needed to fuel the fire so the whole house would start burning in a matter of minutes. Assuring all the divisions would burn, they walked back to the living room already covered by dense smoke. They covered the nose and repeated the same process. In the house’s entry, they watched with fascination the way the fire was starting to plough through everything it touched. There was a matter of minutes until the fire tongue would consume both unmoving bodies lying in the middle of the room. They didn’t move until assured a few centimetres were left.

They entered the vehicle, and drove away from the Santanella’s property. They watched through the rear-view mirror the house being wrapped in an orange light and black smoke ascending towards the sky.

— Merry Christmas, dear Stacy! — they said, taking the turn accessing the family home and seeing who was arriving.

They got rid of the smoke and gas smell under the water. They vehemently rubbed each corner of their anatomy before closing the tap. They took some time to dress up and be presentable for their next date. It was of vital importance no one would suspect anything and they would control that very well, they had spent a whole life learning to empathize with neighbours, that way it would be impossible for anyone to point a finger at them directly.

They looked at themselves in the mirror placed on top of the sink and they liked what they saw. As every day, they were impeccable, there was no way the façade of ideal inhabitant would be knocked down.

They arrived at the restaurant later than expected, but they should bookmark unforeseen events so they wouldn’t become a nuisance. They smiled superficially at the head waiter in charge of welcoming customers. With the index finger, they pointed at the table where their arrival was expected, the man nodded and accompanied the guest to their meeting table.

— You’re late — their date reminded them, without bothering to get up from the chair.

— A last minute unforeseen event, I’m sorry I’m late.

Their company nodded to the reply, he knew the enormous burden involved, but he was also tired of telling them to relax, life would only concede a time space and one should know to take the most advantage of it.

— Even though you don’t believe, I enjoy every minute of my work. I couldn’t do anything more rewarding.

They didn’t know how to read in-between the lines of what they have just said.

Both looked at each other when both their cell phones started to ring in unison, interrupting that way the celebration of the evening.

3

Two years ago

The sandy path, in that moment covered in snow, was giving access to the family house he was heading to. From his position, detective Bassa visualized the grove in front of him. He had always asked himself how would it be possible for the Santaella family to live away from civilization, they didn’t live in a bi g city, but Besalú had its inhabitants. Although the family, since they got here three generations ago, had always lived in the entry of the forest.

He parked the car a few metres before arriving, from that position he could watch in thoroughness the scene before entering the chaos existing in the centre of the house.

Police officers were moving back and forth waiting for the Fire Department to finish extinguishing the fire consuming part of the house and the vicinity.

Accompanied by his cigar, and his inseparable notebook he got out of the car. The cigar, almost finished, was resting on the detective’s lips, he needed his hands free to write the first impressions of the supposed case that got him out of bed in the middle of the night. The coroner, Jaume Alós, had only called him about one hour ago to inform him, even though he had received the official notification from one of his inspectors.

He visualized the scene, the remote location was the perfect place to commit a crime, but his intuition, and above all, his career years warned him that night he wasn’t investigating a murder, but a bad action from one of the inhabitants.

The house, hidden in its most part by trees, was almost fully burned out. The main façade, darkened, was precariously standing next to one or another interior wall, from the rest there were only standing the pillars with contorted iron.

He pulled out the lantern from the car’s glove box, he was interested in checking the tyre marks in the road that night, because he was sure that the other ones belonged to Mr. Santanella’s vehicle, since the other family members were out of town. It was the advantage of small villages; every neighbour knew what the other was doing.

With short steps, and illuminated by the small beam of light, he covered the two-metre-wide road. In the end, he counted 10 different tyre designs. He looked in front, where the cars were parked, and counted a total of 8 vehicles.

He raised his hand, seeing one of his inspectors, who in that moment was abandoning the location of success.

— Good night, detective — Salcedo greeted, approaching his superior.

Bassa noticed his subordinated looking with amazement at his notebook, he didn’t give it too much importance, he wasn’t a friend of the new technologies, from the very moment they were installed in the police station, he complained to his superiors, he had the opinion that IT would delay more than it would advance. From the beginning of his career, he had solved hundreds of cases with only his observation ability and his small notebook.

He was about to formulate the question, if it was known if the Santaellas had received any visit in the hours before the fire, but one of the vehicles caught his attention. Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed it, the red sticker on the back of the vehicle told him it wasn’t an official vehicle.

— Who does this car belong to? — he asked, signalling the small white Clio.

Salcedo turned his head do see what his boss was indicating, nodding when he recognized the vehicle.

— That car belongs to Madam Aina Llach.

Bassa raised his eyebrow, intrigues, he didn’t understand why Naira’s brother was in the Santanella’s house when it was supposed she was with the couple’s daughter in her new excursion.

— What is she doing here?

— She brought Mrs. Stacy home, but upon arriving, they encountered the fire already consuming the house, she was the one who called the emergency vehicles.

— That’s odd — he commented, moving the cigar with his lips.

Salcedo looked at his boss.

— What seems odd?

Not more than two days ago, Doctor Ripoll had spoken to him, communicating he was on vacation and that none of the Santaella family members would be in town. That made him realize he had lied.

— Nothing — he commented, still looking at the car — Did you talk to her?

— No, and I don’t think we can talk to her for a few days. — Noticing his boss looking at him, curious, he explained — because of what Mrs. Llach said, Mrs. Santaella jumped off the car before it stopped, and unsuccessfully, to reach the house. The consequence of such imprudence was second degree burns in half her body, and according to the doctors, she’s in a coma. She was moved to the hospital five minutes ago.

Bassa nodded, when he was arriving, an ambulance drove past him. Now he knew that the sirens and the speed were due to the Santaella’s daughter was inside, and most likely, struggling between life and death.

— Did lady Llach say anything else?

Salcedo pulled his smartphone out, in which he had noted the only witness’s testimony. He swept his forefinger a few times through the screen, until he found what he was looking for.

— Neither of both had said they had arrived in town, they wanted to surprise their families, even though I’m afraid they were the ones surprised, especially Mrs. Santaella.

Madam Llach’s statement was the most coherent to Bassa, but what had no coherence was that, supposedly, none of the family members were supposed to be in town that night, even though he didn’t care too much about it, since he knew in first-hand the problems inside the Ripoll-Santaella family.

— Did the Fire Department rule out anything?

His subordinate looked at the hell’s gadget as he called it, it would take less time for him to find the information if he’d use his notebook of a lifetime, that in that useless crap that had to be connected to the electricity every now and then, to avoid running out of power.

— Until now the official report isn’t done, but the first clues indicate we are in the presence of human error.

Bassa had the same opinion, but as stated in the protocol, he asked.

— Tell everyone from the investigation to photograph every wheel mark from this area of the path, and the wheels of the vehicles parked, before letting them go, when they have it, let them add it to the record.

— Do you think this was a murder? — Salcedo asked, baffled.

The detective pulled out the gas lighter from his pocket, after turning the roulette around a few times, a shy flame appeared, Bassa quickly absorbed it to ignite his cigar.

— No, but it doesn’t hurt to do our work well — he slowly expelled the smoke — I’m going home, if anything new