Wanted (In More Ways Than One)

A Bit Sketchy

A file landed on his desk and he eyed it warily before flicking his gaze up to his grinning boss.

“I think you’re gonna like this one,” Cunliffe smirked as he tapped a stubby finger on the case file. With no further information forthcoming, Michael slid the documents closer and skimmed through them.

Ms. Loraine Derbyshire (73) is the owner of Hyacinth Gallery, Aintree. At 9.30am on 08/02/2021, Derbyshire informed police that there had been a break-in overnight, during which the perpetrator(s) had covered every piece of framed artwork with photos and/or sketches of the same staff member – Mr. Arnold Hodgins. The sketches appear to have been created using the art supplies sold at Hyacinth Gallery.

Michael’s brows pinched together and he lifted his gaze to meet his boss’. “The sketches were drawn by the thief whilst he was breaking into the gallery?”

“Keep reading,” Cunliffe grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement.

No property appears to be damaged and owner reports nothing stolen/missing. Money in till left untouched.

“Most unusual,” Michael agreed as Cunliffe bounced on his heels like an enthusiastic child. “Not exactly a thief if they break in without taking anything.”

Cunliffe nodded eagerly. “Take Isi with you. Sounds like a head-scratcher.”

Michael nodded and rose from his chair. “Yes, Sir.” 

He ignored the resulting eye roll and texted Ishani to meet him by the car. She slid in beside him and he handed her the case file, oblivious to the bright smile she directed towards him.

“So, what’s your guess?” Ishani asked once she had skimmed through the notes. “Think this Hodgins has a stalker? Or maybe a crazy ex?”

Michael remained silent as Ishani fantasised solutions to the case. They arrived at the gallery twenty minutes later and were greeted by a distressed older woman, two nervous young women, and a middle-aged man.

“Arnold and Kirsten weren’t even working today but I thought I’d better call them in,” fretted the older woman by way of introduction. “Oh, I do hope that you can figure this mess out.”

“Ms... Derbyshire?” Ishani asked before the woman could continue her worrying. “I’m Detective Inspector Patel and this is D.I. Wyles. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Ms. Derbyshire nodded and Ishani produced a notebook as Michael wandered inside the gallery to take a look around. The shop wasn’t all that large, but a lot of art appeared to be crammed into the small space. Walkways were narrow and walls were littered with traditional paintings and contemporary pieces alike. Sculptures occupied corners and one length of the building was filled with an array of art supplies for customers to purchase. 

However, what really caught Michael’s attention was how every single framed piece of artwork in the shop had been concealed by sketches and photographs of the greying, middle-aged man currently standing outside.

Donning a pair of clinical gloves that he’d stuffed in his pocket before the car ride, Michael plucked one of the sketches from the wall and inspected it carefully. There were no fingerprint smudges from the graphite, so Michael discreetly sniffed at the paper, wondering if he could pick up a scent. He scowled at the stench of latex. It appeared that the criminal had worn gloves.

He tilted his head as a similar memory of the scent of latex popped into his head. He had detected the exact same smell at Mr. Fenton’s farm. Was it a new trend for criminals to walk around in medical gloves?

He inspected the other drawings and briefly allowed himself to admire the decisive lines and rough shading. Each piece bore a close resemblance to the man standing outside, regardless of the art style chosen. Michael moved onto the photographs, almost impressed by the various lighting alterations. It seemed as though the criminal fancied themselves as a bit of an artist.

A particular photograph caught his attention and he squinted at it curiously. The picture was one of the less flattering takes of Arnold since he appeared to be in a hotel restroom. He was washing his hands in front of a mirror and the phone that had shot the image was present in the reflection of the mirror. However, the person holding the phone was absent from the reflection, making it look as though the phone was floating in thin air.

The image had most likely been airbrushed or edited to protect the identity of the criminal, but why not edit out the phone too? Why go to all that effort to remove the person holding the phone but leave the phone in the picture?

Michael grasped the photograph and meandered around the gallery for a few minutes. He noticed a small CCTV camera in the corner of the room and wondered if it had captured anything useful. A moment later, Ishani strode in, Ms. Derbyshire in tow.

“Ms. Derbyshire has some footage of the criminal,” Ishani said as the older lady shook her head, troubled.

“Not sure how much use it’ll be to you. He was wearing a mask and he was dressed all in black.”

“Still, might be helpful,” Ishani said hopefully as she looked to Michael. Michael followed them into a small office at the back of the gallery and watched as Ms. Derbyshire fiddled with the computer.

On-screen, a lithe man in tight, black leather and a balaclava walked into view despite the front door never being opened. It was as though he had just... teleported himself into the gallery. Ishani made a sound of bewilderment as Ms. Derbyshire shook her head again.

“No windows broken, no doors forced... the only other opening is the ventilation shaft – but it’s far too small to fit a human. Even a child couldn’t climb through it.”

Michael’s eyebrows pinched together thoughtfully as Ishani pulled a face. They watched as the criminal began placing photographs over the artwork before rooting around for art supplies.

“Could he have sent something through the ventilation shaft and it unlocked a door or window for him?” Ishani asked, eyes darting left to right in the way they typically did when she was thinking hard and fast. “A drone, perhaps? Or even a trained bird?”

“No feathers,” muttered Michael as he made his way into the main body of the gallery and eyed the ventilation opening. Perhaps a drone could open a door or window, but it would have shown up on CCTV. No, the criminal had not entered via a door or window. He had to have climbed in through the ventilation shaft.

Which meant that the criminal was unlikely to be human.

Shapeshifters were more than mere fairy tales – they existed in all parts of the world in various forms. Skin Walkers were the truest sort of shapeshifters – able to shift into any form they desired and walk amongst any creature, but they were very rare nowadays and they tended to keep to themselves, away from humans.

There were, however, other forms of shapeshifters, such as werewolves and vampires and kitsune, which could take on the appearance of an animal when desired. It was possible that the criminal was a type of shapeshifter, whose alternative form was small enough to squeeze through the ventilation shaft.

Michael narrowed his eyes. Being a werewolf, he could be a little territorial at times, but he would be able to control his instincts so long as there weren’t any vampires involved. There was nothing he loathed more than a vampire and he doubted that he would be able to restrain himself from tearing one apart if faced with the opportunity – regardless of whether there were humans around or not. 

Vampires and werewolves had been enemies for centuries and one venomous bite from one would easily kill the other. There were many legends as to why vampires and werewolves were such fierce rivals; some believed that vampires used to hunt werewolf packs for sport, whilst others believed that werewolves preyed on nests of vampires for meat. The truth was that no one knew why vampires and werewolves were enemies, only that they were.

Vampires and werewolves traditionally had many other enemies, such as witches and warlocks and dragons, and every supernatural creature in existence shared one common foe; the Hunter. Hunters were humans whom had learned of the supernatural and were determined to wipe them out. There were still creatures today that preyed upon humans and Hunters were their protection – the humans that protected other, more innocent humans from having to face the creatures hiding amongst them.

Michael tended to keep to himself and the idea of feasting upon humans was abhorrent to him. He actually quite liked humans – after all, they hadn’t been the ones to murder his family. Most humans were naive and he found himself rather protective over them even if he wasn’t close friends with any of them. In fact, he had once chased off a witch whom had been cursing the local townspeople.

However, whilst he wasn’t particularly interested in picking fights with other supernatural beings, he definitely wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye to their criminal being a vampire. Not after what they had done to his family. They deserved to die; all of them.

“Michael?”

Michael startled and turned to Ishani, who clearly hadn’t only called his name once. She cocked a querying brow at him and he shook his head.

“So, what are you thinking? Is this the work of a drone?” Ishani pressed and Michael shrugged a shoulder and eyed the ventilation shaft opening again. 

“Perhaps,” he said, even though he didn’t believe it. It wasn’t as though he could reveal his true thoughts – he didn’t want to scare her. Or make her question whether he was unfit for work.

Ishani returned her attention to Ms. Derbyshire and Michael tuned her out again, lost in thought. There were, of course, many creatures that could fit through an opening that small – imps, faeries, goblins, even demons – so there was no point in dwelling over the possibility of a vampire criminal. Still, Michael’s skin itched and he scented the air reflexively, searching for any traces of bats. If Ishani noticed, she didn’t comment.

They left the scene soon after lightly questioning the other staff members, car filled with sketches, photographs, CCTV footage, and the art supplies that the criminal had apparently used. Michael knew that there would be no fingerprints, but he couldn’t exactly reveal why he knew the criminal had been wearing gloves when drawing, so he allowed Ishani to bundle all the useless evidence into bags and merely nodded when she asked, “Is that all of it?”

The truth was that the police would never be able to catch a shapeshifting criminal because they wouldn’t be able to piece it all together. A shapeshifter could appear seemingly out of thin air, leaving nothing but a trail of paw prints, so it was nearly impossible to gather enough evidence to prove that they committed the crime. It usually took another supernatural creature – or a human whom was aware of them – to figure it out.

Michael sighed as he glanced over the drawings of Arnold Hodgins. They really were quite good. 

They had questioned Arnold as to why the criminal might have chosen him and only him to sketch, and he had hummed and hawed over his response, coming up with petty trifles he’d had with the cashier at McDonalds when he’d been given regular coke instead of diet, or that time he had got into an argument with his neighbour over which newspaper was the most unbiased. It became clear that Arnold was just an average, middle-aged, slightly overweight, boring man and he had no idea why his face had been plastered all over the gallery like a comedic series of mugshots.

Michael tilted his head curiously. Mugshots. There was a thought. He pulled up the list of criminals and events in the computer database and searched for ‘Arnold Hodgins’. There were no convictions, but there were multiple accusations that had been dismissed.

Raising an eyebrow, Michael clicked on one at random and browsed through it.

On 12/04/2017 Hodgins was accused of stalkerish behaviour and inappropriate text communications as well as verbal harassment of work colleague Molly Cooper. Restraining order requested. 

    Update: On 25/04/2017 request denied, Hodgins acquitted. 

Michael blinked and selected another date.

On 21/06/2012 Hodgins was accused of persistent harassing ex-girlfriend Emma Bradley. Hodgins was allegedly seen standing in her garden for hours at a time and leaving love letters for her. When asked to leave, Hodgins became more persistent and filled her answering machine with declarations of love. Claims under investigation.

    Update: On 24/07/2012 Hodgins accused of sending unwanted pictures to Bradley via text message and social media. New evidence proposed, claims under investigation.

    Update: On 02/08/2012 Hodgins allegedly cornered Bradley in public bathroom at Lime street train station. No witnesses. CCTV broken. Restraining order requested.

    Update: On 05/08/2012 Hodgins accused of threatening to injure Bradley if restraining order request not dropped. No witnesses. Hodgins’ alibi: at girlfriend Abigail Gaston’s house. Gaston confirmed and states that Bradley has begun harassing her to make claims against Hodgins.

    Update: On 09/08/2012 Bradley dropped restraining order request.

    Update: On 12/08/2012 Bradley dropped case against Hodgins. Does not wish to be contacted further by police.

Frowning, Michael selected a new date.

On 04/01/2013 Hodgins was accused of striking Abigail Gaston across the face after he spotted her conversing with a male work colleague earlier in the day. Gaston attempted to leave the house but claims that Hodgins prevented her from doing so.

    Update: On 09/01/2013 Hodgins was accused of drugging Gaston in her own house. Gaston claims that she woke up in his bed later that afternoon. No witnesses.

    Update: On 17/01/2013 Gaston dropped case against Hodgins. Does not wish to be contacted further by police.

Michael scrolled through a few more records, each presenting similar claims of stalking, inappropriate communications, harassment and dropped investigations, and he began to develop a clearer picture of why Arnold Hodgins had been specifically targeted by the criminal. Perhaps the criminal was a friend of one of the women Hodgins had allegedly harassed. Or maybe the criminal knew something that the police didn’t.

Hodgins hadn’t yet been convicted but there were too many claims to be coincidence. Michael wasn’t supposed to take a biased view but he was suddenly suspicious of Hodgins and if the criminal was trying to tell the police something, then Michael was all ears.

“Patel,” he barked as he stood and grabbed his coat, and Ishani trotted over to him with a confused expression.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Kirsten Greenlow’s house,” Michael muttered as he took one last look at the sketches.

Ishani’s brows drew together. “The young girl who works at the gallery? What do you want with her? She already said she doesn’t know anything.”

“I have a few questions to ask about her colleague; Mr. Hodgins,” Michael said as he strode towards the door. “And whilst we’re out, we might as well ask those same questions to Andrea Dalton; the other young woman working at the gallery.”

Ishani looked alarmed. “What? Why? What has Hodgins done?”

Michael smiled grimly. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Ishani said in amazement as they watched Hodgins being shoved into the squad car in handcuffs. “How did you know he was harassing those women?”

“Mugshots,” Michael said, eyes narrowed. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was men trying to threaten and overpower innocent women. Perhaps it was the werewolf in him, but he had a special hatred for the sort of men who bullied and intimidated people they perceived as physically weaker than themselves. He had, perhaps, once or twice, morphed into a wolf and scared off men who thought it appropriate to throw women around and pressure them into doing things that they weren’t comfortable with. It was a risky business, transforming in the middle of town like that, but it had been dark and no one had been looking in his direction, and those men had tipped him over the edge after a bad day at work. It had been entertaining to watch them scream and sprint away like cowards.

The women had been nervous of him and his teeth, but he had merely glanced over at them to ensure they were uninjured before trotting away. It was a shame he couldn’t reveal himself to them, but that would lead to far too much trouble.

“Mugshots?” asked Ishani, nose wrinkled.

“The sketches the criminal drew. They looked like mugshots,” clarified Michael, “and the photos were taken in the same way as Hodgins took photos of the women he stalked.”

“And so you looked up his records on the database and discovered the accusations, which made you realise that he was doing the same to Kirsten and Andrea and forcing them to stay quiet,” Ishani grinned, eyes widening. “That’s brilliant.” She glanced up at him fondly. “You’re brilliant.”

Michael watched the squad car drive away and Ishani sidled a little closer to him. “So, one criminal led us to another? What are the chances of two cases like that in the same week? First Mr. Fenton and now this. So much for honour amongst thieves.” She grinned up at him. “Hey, let me treat you to lunch? There’s this new café that’s opened up a few minutes from the station and the burgers are to die for.”

Michael frowned at the horizon. Ishani was right – two unusual cases in one week where the original crime led them to a much more worrying crime. Could they be connected?

“Hello, Michael, come back down to Earth.”

Michael blinked and glanced down at her and she squinted up at him worriedly. “You’re spacey today. Everything all right?”

He nodded. “Just thinking.”

She shook her head in amusement and grabbed his arm, leading him towards the car. “Well, think on the way to the café. I’m starving.”

He allowed a small, fond smile to pull at his lips before his brows tugged downwards again. What if the cases were connected? And if they were, how did he catch the perpetrator?

He didn’t even know what species they were.