The Priory of Finchelsea V.
Dr. Barton had never really met Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones. She had once sat through a lecture he gave on Welsh Bardic symbolism, however, and she could imagine that anyone forced to listen to the man for any length of time might well want to split his head open with a sword. Obviously he'd made the mistake of talking to someone who actually had a sword to hand.
Lil Barton had seen the photograph, and she had seen dead bodies before, but this one was bizarre. Still fully clothed (mercifully, Lil thought), he had apparently been using his own brains to draw on the floor.
"He was a tough man," the head cop explained. "That blow should have killed him outright."
"It should have! How did he survive?"
"We don't know," DC Jones admitted.
And what had he done to himself? His body lay prone of the encaustic tiles of the English Chapel, legs together, arms extended as if in a crucifix position. So far the symbolism looked Christian, but why, then had he drawn Batman's Bat-symbol on his pristine white shirt with his own brains?
"Inspector..." Dr. Barton paused. "Inspector, no-one told me your name."
"Flash. Jack flash. Don't laugh, my therapist only just helped me to forgive my parents for calling me Jack."
Great, Lil Barton thought, here I am, in a Victorian Gothic chapel, with a man called Flash investigating a bizzare murder connected with Batman. I'm in a comic book. Next thing I know the clues will all start pointing to the Joker.
"Why did he use his own brains?" she asked.
"Only thing he had to draw with," DC Jones explained. Dr. Barton shook her head.
"So why use the Bat-symbol? Unless he was leaving a clue for Batman."
"Look in his right hand," Inspector Flash suggested. Dr. Barton looked. The man was holding what looked like a whiteboard marker, the sort of thing that she used in lectures.
"It's a pen."
"It's an ultraviolet marker. Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones used his brains so that we would use certain forensic techniques. Sergeant, turn on the black light."
The sergeant turned on the light, and Dr. Barton gasped in surprise.
Lil Barton had seen the photograph, and she had seen dead bodies before, but this one was bizarre. Still fully clothed (mercifully, Lil thought), he had apparently been using his own brains to draw on the floor.
"He was a tough man," the head cop explained. "That blow should have killed him outright."
"It should have! How did he survive?"
"We don't know," DC Jones admitted.
And what had he done to himself? His body lay prone of the encaustic tiles of the English Chapel, legs together, arms extended as if in a crucifix position. So far the symbolism looked Christian, but why, then had he drawn Batman's Bat-symbol on his pristine white shirt with his own brains?
"Inspector..." Dr. Barton paused. "Inspector, no-one told me your name."
"Flash. Jack flash. Don't laugh, my therapist only just helped me to forgive my parents for calling me Jack."
Great, Lil Barton thought, here I am, in a Victorian Gothic chapel, with a man called Flash investigating a bizzare murder connected with Batman. I'm in a comic book. Next thing I know the clues will all start pointing to the Joker.
"Why did he use his own brains?" she asked.
"Only thing he had to draw with," DC Jones explained. Dr. Barton shook her head.
"So why use the Bat-symbol? Unless he was leaving a clue for Batman."
"Look in his right hand," Inspector Flash suggested. Dr. Barton looked. The man was holding what looked like a whiteboard marker, the sort of thing that she used in lectures.
"It's a pen."
"It's an ultraviolet marker. Dr. Llewellyn Pryce-Rees-Evans-Jones used his brains so that we would use certain forensic techniques. Sergeant, turn on the black light."
The sergeant turned on the light, and Dr. Barton gasped in surprise.
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