The Calligrapher

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The body of Rosalie Azria was in prime condition: all hair waxed, eyebrows plucked and trimmed, scalp shaved and gleaming. Her cheeks were rosy, and her skin unblemished beneath the light makeup. The lips were soft and full, cherry-red and glossy. She was naked, hanging limp, arms bound and dangling from the ceiling fan like a white, fleshy carcass of meat. If this all was not puzzling enough, there was also the matter of the killing itself. 4

Her entire body had been carved, almost surgically so - possibly with a scalpel or a pen. The wounds were deep and thin, intricate arcs and curves that collided and seperated, forming bizzare images. A dragon was traced on her back, full in detail and drawn with terrific grace. Its tail coiled around her thighs, mouth open in a roar. The front was similar, with flowery patterns and circlets around the nipples, forming a twisting, turning vortex on her breasts. Only the face was unmarked, a token that meant little.5

There was writing there, too, thin and slanting, the writing of a skilled hand. It made a triangle, beginning from the base of her neck and dipping into her cleavage till it met her navel. Beneath the body was a pool of murky blood, its putrid stench wafting in the air, engulfing them in the smell of death. 6

Lee Hunter stared at the body of Rosalie's body intently, tracing his finger on the congealed wounds, face twisted in disgust. His twenty-five years in the service had never seen such a thing. 7

He knew this was the work of a killer. 8

A killer. An artist. 9

Lee named him: the Calligrapher. 10

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Lee Hunter was California's first Asian Chief Detective, a position almost impossible to attain. He was a short man of stocky build, a thickset face and a balding head. He never had much to give to the world, except of course, his mind. Lee Hunter had a cunning mind, and in the Police Department, there was nothing more reverred. Not even loyalty. Lee had worked hard for this. He had forsaken his marriage with Chantelle, the first and last love of his life - all in the name of duty. She had divorced him and he did not resent her for it. She deserved better. 17

As for Lee, he had made duty his wife. His love. His passion. 18

He sat in his office, sipping on a mug of coffee, doodling idly on a piece of paper. Everytime he shut his eyes, the body of Rosalie Azria flashed into his mind. It was a disturbing image. 19

A knock on the door. 20

"Enter."21

"Sir, here's the translations from the inscriptions on Rosalie Azria's body."22

"Thanks, Natalie. What about the team?"23

"I notified them an hour ago. I suppose they went to the crime scene first."24

"Phone them again, tell 'em to come here, right now. Ah, and phone Press Control, tell them to keep a lid on this one."25

His assistant left and he turned his attention to the file in his hand. He opened it. The writing had been French, he realized, although he had not been able to decipher it on the body. 26

Vague, thought Lee. 28

Another knock on the door. Lee slammed the file shut. 29

"Enter."30

A group of three entered the room. Lee and his team were closely-knit and worked well together. He had handpicked them, singling them out for their strengths and weaknesses, allowing them to fill each other's gaps. Sophie was the glue, an olive-skinned and beautiful woman, her hair gently peeking from beneath a grey hat. She was of Italian descent, a wonderful addition to the team, quick to love, quick to laugh. She wore a grey coat, over a white, cotton shirt and long trousers. Passing Lee a smile, she winked playfully, and took the seat opposite to him. 31

Junior was the son of the former Commissioner and a quiet but resourceful kid. He wore his uniform with a stiff pride, his tapering face almost hidden behind the large cap. Still young, but very bright and knowledgeable. He greeted Lee politely and took a seat next to Sophie. 32

Vincent was a brute of a man, large and thick-headed - the muscle of the team. Lee thought it was essential to keep men like Vincent on a team. They rocked people's defenses, made them wary and they were always ready to hand you any information. He grinned at Lee and slumped down on the couch. 33

"Ah, I just told Natalie to call you," said Lee. "I suppose you've seen the body."34

"Worst killing I have ever seen," said Junior, shuddering. 35

"Ditto," said Sophie grimly. 36

"It was artwork, it was," said Vincent. "Very skilled work." Sophie turned to him, appalled. "Just saying we're looking for one talented killer!" Vincent explained. 37

"He's right," said Lee. "We are looking for an artist. A skilled one at that. Doctor Connor took a look at the body, before he passed out from the smell - poor man's getting old; he said that most of the markings were made while the victim was still alive."38

Sophie gaped. "Alive?"39

"Yes," said Lee. "The woman managed to stay alive through most of the torture, unfortunate as it were for her. Death was possibly by - uh - excessive loss of blood. After she was dead and most of the blood had drained, the killer washed the body with vinegar."40

"So we could clearly see his work?"41

"Yep," said Lee.42

"What about that writing?" Vincent asked, toying with a pen. 43

"French," said Lee. He passed them the file and they each took a look. 44

"Well?" Lee asked. 45

"He's named the killing like it was artwork," said Junior. The boy looked disturbed. "The Prostitute's Portrait, it's a title - but Rosalie worked in a bar, didn't she?"46

"Part-time," said Lee, glancing at the file in his lap. "She worked nights too." 47

"What about the next part?"48

"For the Louvre?" said Vincent. 49

"The Louvre Museum of France," said Junior. "It's the most visited historical museum in the world. It harbors some of the most significant pieces of artwork - all the famous ones - Last Supper, Mona Lisa, Virgin of the Rocks." 50

"How do you know that?" said Vincent. 51

"Took art classes a lot; I'm pretty handy with a pencil," said Junior, shrugging. 52

"For the Louvre," said Sophie. "So he's presenting it to the Louvre. He's mocking them. It sounds like a scorn. For the Louvre. Maybe he was an artist and they rejected his work."53

"Read the last part," said Lee. 54

"I claim Adonis," said Vincent. 55

"His next victim?" said Sophie. 56

"Exactly what I think," said Lee. 57

"Adonis? What does that mean?" said Vincent. 58

"He's someone in Greek mythology, right?" said Junior. "Adonis - it usually refers to a man very beautiful or handsome." 59

"If his next victim is male," said Sophie. "Then we can rule out that this is sexually triggered homicide."60

"Was Rosalie raped?" said Junior. 61

Lee shook his head. "Pampered more like it. Not a scratch on her." 62

"How hard it is to find an Adonis in L.A," said Sophie slyly. "It's teeming with handsome men, up here for a shot in Hollywood. Our victim could be anyone."63

"I don' think so," said Lee. "I think Adonis refers to a title. Someone either claiming to be Adonis or someone compared to Adonis, perhaps."64

They conversed for about two more hours, well into the night, and it was almost 2 AM that Lee finally ordered them to retire. 65

"We'll get on this fully in the morning," said Lee. His team gave him a hasty goodbye and then went out of the door, yawning and stretching their legs. 66

Lee slumped on his desk. He reached into a drawer and brought out a small pillow. He often slept in the office. Right now, the idea of his office was much more appealing than his forlorn apartment with its cold bed, cheap microwave food and draughty loneliness. He lay his head on the pillow, brooding till the stupor covered him like a warm blanket.67

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He woke with a start, sweating profusely. The light was out again. Damn, he though. Not this again. He got up and went into the office. It was nearly empty, except for some nightime cops. They waved him a greeting. He did not return it. His head felt heavy. It had been a long time since that dream had ever disturbed him. A thankfully long time. 73

Lee had been a novice back then, tailing a hijacked van, not knowing that it contained hostages from a local Book Club. His move with the Colt Python pistol had cost him all their lives and almost his own too. The Commissioner's wife, Mary Hughes was also among the hostages. Lee survived. None of the hostages did. Lee had never told anyone about the Colt Python. The tire of the van was so terribly sheared they could get nothing out of the investigation. The Police records showed it was an accident. 74

Perhaps it was partly why Lee had admitted Junior into his team. He was a novice, not fit enough to be in a high-ranking team. But it served to soothe his own guilt. His guilt of having taken away his mother. Lee shook these thoughts from his head. 75

He took some water and made some coffee. It would not do to sleep again. 76

He looked at the time. 6 AM.77

Tired, he ruffled through the magazine stand when something caught his eye. The cover of Vanity Affairs. A young boy was on the cover, a teenage movie star. Beneath his face, red letters flashed angrily. 78

Joshua Ozi Crowned America's Adonis.79

Adonis, he thought. Bloody hell. 80

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The murder of Joshua Ozi could not be hidden from the press. A maid who had discovered the body in an abandoned garage had already sold all the gruesome details to the press. It was all much the same. The body had been waxed and cleaned and scrubbed and then engraved. Vivid flowery patterns all over the back and the arms. A phoenix depicted on the stomach, enveloped in fire. There was more writing, in a similar triangle, yet to be translated though. 87

Lee, Junior and Sophie sat in his office, brooding. Two kills with a twenty-hour berth. This was bad. Sophie flicked through the news channels. The story had spread like wildfire. The only damage control was that the body had been saved form the media. That, Lee thought. Would have been a disaster. 88

"The murder of the innocent teenage movie star is an outrage ... we regret to inform that Joshua Ozi ... Joshua Ozi murdered in cold blood ... teenage fans outraged. You can see girls crying. His family members are mortified ... this is a tragedy. Never before has a teenage star been a victim of homicide. This has rocked Hollywood and LA ... the LA Police Department has Chief Detective Lee 'Hunter' Huang and his elite team on the case ... the Police is obstructing us from seeing the body ... " The lights went out.89

"Oh great," said Junior. 90

Suddenly, the door was kicked upon and Vincent entered, arms laden with folders. He handed one to each of them. 91

"The translations," he said. Lee read the folder. 92

"The Soiled Prince -" began Lee. 94

"Is what he names his victim - or well, his artwork, in his mind."95

"For the Louvre. Again, we suppose he's been scorned by the Louvre or is somehow mocking the art world or something," said Junior. "It's not important. We need to know his next victim."96

"Queen Elizabeth in the theatre," said Lee. 97

"This could mean so many people too," said Vincent. "It could mean Queen Elizabeth in a metaphorical way, maybe he's targeting someone who's currently the best Broadway actress."98

"Or someone playing Queen Elizabeth," said Junior. 99

"Vincent, run a check on every play in the theatres this week, see if we can come up with something about Queen Elizabeth, you know the drill," Lee ordered. Vincent nodded and went off. 100

He looked at Sophie. She was deep in thought, legs on the side of the couch, eye on the ceiling. Suddenly, she heaved herself up. "Give me the files on both Rosalie and Joshua."101

She checked the files and then ran off. 102

"So, Junior, how's your father?" Lee asked. 103

"The chemo is helping a bit," said Junior, eye on the file in his hand. 104

"Good. Good." 105

Sophie suddenly entered the room. "Well, well, well ..."106

"What?" Lee asked. 107

"Here's something interesting. Both Rosalie Azria and Joshua Ozi - are Jews."108

Lee put his head into his hands. This could not reach the ears of the media. It would mean a nasty mess. They were not just talking phone calls and hate mail for lazy work. They were talking riots. This was a touchy place. 109

"Are you sure?" Junior asked, obviously sensing the fragility of the matter. 110

"Yep, just did full bio checks. Both jews," said Sophie. 111

"Bummer."112

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The next day brought worse news. Junior had been hit by a speeding motorbike. He was in his home, nursing a broken leg and swollen ankle. Vincent had run a manual check on the local L.A theatres. Two of them had plays featuring Queen Elizabeth, although in minimal roles. Lee ordered policemen to provide them with security. What are you gonna do now, Calligrapher? What now? 119

But Lee still felt uneasy. This was so obvious. So transparent. 120

They could not do much more. 121

They waited. 122

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That night Lee got a call from Chantelle. 129

"Hey, Chantelle."130

"Hello, Lee."131

"How are you?" 132

"I - I'm pretty good. Listen, Lee, I have something to tell you." 133

"What happened?"134

"Max and I - we - we're getting married. He's gone on a business meeting to Ohio. When he comes back, we plan to settle down." Lee sighed. It was a knife through his chest. 135

"Good for you then, I'm very happy."136

"Oh ... thank you."137

"How's Lacey?"138

"She's wonderful. She had just had a litter. Three golden pups, yeah, they're so beautiful."139

"Good. Good."140

"Are you okay?"141

"Yes, I'm fine. Working on a case. You must have heard about it."142

"The Joshua Ozi murder. Yes I saw. Terrible, isn't it?"143

"Yes. Terrible."144

"Do you know who did it?"145

"We're investigating. The killer is clever. Hasn't left a single clue."146

"You'll catch him. You always do." I couldn't catch you though. 147

"Well, I better get going; the team is waiting for me."148

"Okay, good bye."149

"Chantelle -"150

"Yes, Lee."151

"I love you." 152

A moment of silence. 153

"Goodbye Lee."154

She hung up. Lee went to bed but simply lay there, staring at the feeling. Was his work better than love? Was it worth this empty house? Was it worth waking up every morning and realizing no one is sleeping beside you? Maybe. 155

At almost 6 AM the phone rang. He was still awake. 156

"Chief Detective Lee Huang." 157

"Chief, we got a problem." It was Sophie.158

"Another murder?"159

"Yep, 14th Avenue. Wildcross Road. You can't miss it, the whole police department's here." 160

"I'm on my way."161

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The body of Elizabeth Queen was found in a movie theatre, dangling form the stage, naked, waxed and stripped of all dignity. Her body had been severely mutilated, engraved with insignias and abstract textures. It was impossible to watch. The rope twisted and turned, and her body revolved. A display of murder. Lee walked right into the pool of blood beneath the body's feet, not caring whether he soiled his shoes. 168

"Get her down, someone," he shouted at the policemen. 169

"I can't believe this," said Sophie. 170

"Elizabeth Queen - who has a name like that?" asked Vincent incredulously. 171

"She did," said Lee. "And it got her to a bitter end."172

"Why didn't we see this?" said Sophie. "We could've seen this!"173

"We could have, but we didn't," said Vincent. "This guy's playing hard ball. He changed his tune in the nick of the moment. Tricked us, and we fell for it."174

"How did the killer escape?" said Lee. 175

"Must've been easy enough, the whole place is a rundown theatre anyway," said Sophie. 176

"It's not in use?" asked Lee. 177

"Nope, not in seven years. They'll be demolishing it this year," said Sophie. 178

"Then why would a perfectly sane woman come out here?"179

"Maybe the killer attracted her, you know, sexually?" suggested Vincent. He and Lee went outside to the car, unable to bear the smell of the blood. Sophie stayed behind, ordering some men to take photos and to write down the writings on the body. 180

"Probably," said Lee. He kicked mindlessly at a rock. He was fed up of this. Fed up with everything. "How's Junior?"181

"Better, I heard. I called him, said he was taking bedrest," said Vincent. 182

"Well, you think we should get another member?" Lee asked. 183

"Nah, we'll do fine," said Vincent. Lee nodded. A new member would be distraction. 184

And with this killer on the loose, there could be no distractions. 185

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Lee and Vincent returned to his office and got some coffee, already looking forward to a long night. They looked over and revised the previous cases. The killer was smart. Clever. He never left a trace. Not a hair, not a fingerprint. The places were always very secluded - Rosalie was killed in a wasted apartment that belonged to no one, Joshua was killed in an abandoned garage and Elizabeth was killed in a rundown, secluded movie theatre. No links. No pattern. Except the one about Jews. Even Elizabeth Queen was a Jew. The hatred was fuelled with racism. 191

They had questioned around. Looked for clues. Nothing. No witnesses. No evidence. 192

Just a bloody cold case, thought Lee. 193

Sophie arrived, handing them files with the translations. They all studied them with interest. 194

They looked at it for a long time. Then Sophie laughed and got her phone out. She punched in a number. 196

"Junior, hey."197

"We miss you too, boy, how are you?"198

"Good, good."199

"Okay, help us out here, art-boy."200

"The Queen is Hung to Dry - that's the name of the killing - yea, there's been another one. Turned out it was a woman called Elizabeth Queen in a movie theatre. Old run down place, yea. Okay leave that, save the details. Focus, kid." 201

"For the Louvre, again let's suppose it's the same thing."202

"Ah, now: Stone place, my magnum opus."203

"Ahan ... okay ... fine ... you sure? Okay, great, get well soon. Bye."204

She flipped it shut. "Apparently, a magnum opus is a Masterpiece, the greatest piece an artist makes." 205

"What about stone place?" said Lee.206

"No idea," said Sophie, slumping down onto the couch. 207

"Perhaps an artisitc statue," said Vincent suddenly. 208

"Good," said Lee. 209

"Let's go with that," said Sophie. 210

"Well, there are lots of statues in L.A," said Vincent. "The ones in Pershing Square, the ones infront of El Pueblo, in Expo Park, UCLA, Huntington Beach."211

"Put these are all crowded places, all famous," said Lee. "He won't risk it."212

"The man's a mad serial killer, they're not really the most cautious," said Vincent. 213

"This one is," said Lee. "This one is. Put the police on high alert for suspicious activity. Get two to three men to patrol these areas this week." 214

"We have very little to work with," said Sophie sadly. It was true. They had clues. Hints. Riddles. Nothing of substance. 215

We'll just have to do with what little we have then, thought Lee. 216

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In the evening, he left Sophie and Vincent, wanting to desperately get away from the office air. It was constricting him. Gagging him till he did not want to breathe. He decided to go see Junior, see how the boy was doing. It was not just the guilt anymore, he actually liked the kid. His father had long been his friend and comrade and he was a member of his elite team too. 221

The house was an old-styled Victorian, with yellow and grey elegant walls and a small but well-tended garden in the front. Lee knocked on the door. He tried to open it but it was locked. Curious, he picked the lock with a small pin, one he always kept for emergencies like this. It clicked open. 222

The house was dark. 223

"Junior," he called out. "Junior, it's Lee, you here kid?"224

Maybe his friends had picked him up or something, he thought.225

He went upstairs, drawing his pistol out. You never know. 226

Junior's room was open. Lee went inside. It was small and cozy, with a waterbed and cases crammed full with books. An easel and paints were propped up by the window. The computer screen was on. Lee peered at it. 227

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Hijack Gone Bad, Hostages Dead229

Today, at approximately 4 PM, a hijacked van toppled over in a police chase, killing four hostages from a local Book Club. One of the hostages has been identified as the wife of Commissioner Walter Banks of LA Police Department. The hijackers, Aaron and Bukhtar, had stormed into a building where the meeting of the Club was taking place. The group of three took the ladies as hostages and all of their money. Officer Lee Huang chased the car, supposedly being tipped off by suspicious neighbours. Lee Huang's police car crashed into the van after it toppled over, although the Officer has survived the ordeal ...230

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The boy had never let go of his mother. To this day, he still read those articles. There were others, pinned to the wall. He felt the guilty knot in his stomach weigh him down, almost as if he had just gained six stone. 232

Something caught his attention, a folder with a prominent photo. Lee found himself looking into the eyes of a healthy Elizabeth Queen, her auburn hair caught in the sun, green eyes delightful. What was a picture of Elizabeth doing here? He opened the folder. Inside, was a day to day account of Elizabeth's every move, encompassing the last two months of her life. It was full data, from which routes she took to work to what clothes she wore. It was disturbing. 233

He felt a bad feeling in his gut. 234

There were more files nearby. Lee ruffled through their pages. One was about Rosalie Azria and the other one about Joshua Ozi. They had the same, vivid details. Their usual hangouts, their friends, their pictures. Junior had done his homework, long before the killings had ever happened.235

Lee knew it in his heart. 236

Almost scared to admit it. 237

But the truth sank into him like a knife in the gut. 238

Joshua was the Calligrapher. 239

He could hardly believe. He turned the entire room on its head. Joshua had to have a file on the next murder too. Then he found it. A small, leather-bound file beneath the computer monitor. He opened it and almost blanched. Chantelle - his Chantelle. She smiled at him from inside the photo, blonde hair flying in the wind. Her cheeks were flushed and she pouted for the camera. Inside were more photos of her: swimming at the Country Club; eating out at Le Palais, her favorite restaurant; walking the dog. 240

Suddenly it hit him. A realization that made his heart hammer. 241

He remembered his first date with Chantelle. 242

Chantelle was the Calligrapher's next victim. 245

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Lee's mind worked furiously. He drove with one hand, the car skidding from street to street, well above the speed limit, while the other carelessly fingered his Colt Python, the .357 Magnum. He had never touched the gun ever since the accident. He had tried calling on her cell phone, but Chantelle would not answer. 252

Max would be gone and she would be alone. A perfect target.253

He could not let this happen. He would not let this happen. 254

Lee would not fail. 255

He pulled the handbrake just before the house, and the car skidded to a halt. As he got out, he could smell the singed rubber tire. He ran to the front door and gently tried it, one hand holding the butt of his pistol. Locked. He opened fire, putting three bullets into keyhole and flung it open. 256

Chantelle hung by the ceiling fan, stripped but alive, wrists red where the ropes bound her. Her mouth was gagged with a sock. She fidgeted and tried to scream, giving a muffled cry. Junior stood beside her, hand holding a shaking scalpel. He immediately pressed it to her neck, standing on tip toes to reach her, pupils dilated with fear. Lee could smell his dread. 257

"Get away from my wife, boy," 258

"No - no, no, no -" said Junior shaking his head. His face burned with a mad fervor. 259

"Get away," 260

"You killed her," Junior said, breaking into sobs. "You killed her ... I know you did! I read the reports, I put the pieces together. You fucking shit, you killed her! He shouted at the top of his lungs, tears streaming. 261

"It was an accident," said Lee.262

"It was murder!" Junior shrieked. 263

"No, it was a mistake!" Lee yelled, taking a step forward. Did the boy not understand? It had haunted him all his life. He knew what it was. 264

"I hate you!" said Junior. He pressed the scalpel to Chantelle's throat. Beads of blood appeared. 265

Lee pulled the trigger. 266

The bullet went straight through Junior's head, leaving a bloody mess on the wall behind. 267

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"So the Calligrapher was just a hoax, a false trail, to make sure we didn't get on his tracks," said Sophie. She looked shaken, her hands pressed against her cheek. "All of that art, that cruel, cruel art ... all those people, those innocent people! God!"274

"It was revenge," said Lee grimly. "Revenge on everyone he blamed. The hijackers of the van - Aaron and Bukhtar, they're Jewish names, you see - it was all revenge."275

"Ingeniously cruel," said Vincent softly. 276

They were sitting in Lee's office and Lee had just explained everything to them. Chantelle had been taken to the hospital and was now asleep, although healthy. Lee found it hard to believe what had just happened. 277

"I - I don't know what to say," said Sophie, her eyes swimming with tears. Vincent pressed her shoulder. 278

"There's nothing to say, Sophie," said Lee. 279

The team was done for. There would be no more cases between them. They would never be able to work together. He could already feel the emotional fissure growing between them. The air in the room was laced with a terrible sense of betrayal.280

Lee looked at the Sophie and Vincent. They're young. They have a long way to go. He sighed to himself. 281

What would he do now?282

A vacation. 283

Yes. 284

A vacation. 285

That sounded so welcoming. 286

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