The Sword: A Murder Mystery: The Ishikawa/Taylor Mysteries, #1

I dedicate this book to my friends, family and fans of my other writing efforts over the last decade. I also dedicate this to all my little monsters, minions and angels. You know who you are.

I would also like to thank those who helped by answering my questions on Absolute Writers Water Cooler, particularly Jim, Kenpo, Neptune and Mike. Without you, finishing this book wouldn't have been possible.

I'd also like to thank Hack and Shelly who helped me whip this into shape.

This story is mine. Everyone belongs to me. Don't touch, steal or use them at all. Not even if you beg for my permission, you can't have them. If you think anyone resembles anyone in real life, you're just seeing things. No one in this story is meant to depict anyone, living or dead, in any way, shape or form and resemblance are purely coincidental. Thanks.

Chapter One: The Edge Of The Blade

My name is Ixora Ishikawa and I work for Tylerville Police Department. Although we aren't a huge city like Dallas or Houston, we get our share of big city crime. Don't let anyone tell you that country life is simpler than city life because it isn't. We had more arrests per capita for drug possession than any other small town I can think of and don't even get me started on our sexual assault numbers.

My job is to investigate those crimes and bring those responsible to justice. I've worked my way up in the food chain in other police departments to find myself being hired on as a detective. I usually find myself in other cities more than in my own since I get sent to a lot of seminars as a representative for my little hamlet. I'll be the first to admit, other than the short jail time crap, Tylerville is the most boring town on the face of the planet and I welcome the getaways.

The last murder took place while I was still in high school and there hadn't been one since. Tylerville prided itself on its serenity, seeming to forget about the rest of the crap going on. Their selective memory seemed to omit the drug arrests and other assorted crimes that happened. A few people weren't blind though and insisted the town get a police department instead of letting the county handle everything.

Another reason for the inception of the police department was the fact the little burg had decided to incorporate as not to get absorbed by the city to our south but it took a while to get it done. There were many clashes over what direction the town should take. Many people wanted to maintain the small town charm while others wanted chain stores to move in and create new jobs closer to home. Most of the people who wanted change were young while the ones who wanted it to stay the same were older.

The older folks had even opposed the police department being founded until a rash of robberies changed their minds. The county was overwhelmed with other things and could send Tylerville little help at the time. This opened their eyes and caused them to rethink the idea. Even then, it took a lot of voting and fighting to actually get the ball rolling.

The police department itself was barely three years old when I was offered the job as a detective. I had no reservations about being based out of such a drab little town and it was better than the big cities I had been in. I wasn't there though because I was in Dallas, at an in-service to continue my education.

It had just ended when my cell phone went off, interrupting a very awkward conversation about where I was from. The man that was laughing at me pointed at it, still chuckling at the operatic metal that emitted from my phone. That's a creepy ringtone, He commented. Is that your boyfriend? Does he wear black too?

I hated that everyone had to make it an issue that I was rather Gothic but I can't really help it. My naturally pale skin and page boy cut pitch-black hair didn't help matters either. Since I'm half Japanese and half American I really had no hope of getting anything but what I had. At least the gods had been kind enough to give me a D-cup chest and height closer to my six foot seven father's than my four foot ten mother's.

I also got my mother's last name though my father was an American. My mother was too but she had been born in a Japanese internment camp to Japanese American parents exactly one week before the internment camps were ordered closed. My grandparents made friends with one of the soldiers and they would often visit one another. It was on one of those visits that the soldier's son became enamored by my mother.

Long story short, they married and the soldier's son took my mother's name. It was customary in my mother's culture for such a thing to happen and she was big on following tradition. They had five sons before I came along on my mother's thirty-seventh birthday. Being the baby made me tough and able to handle myself, especially with five hulking jocks for brothers that treated me like I was another boy.

One good thing I got was a curvy build, looking more like a nineteen-sixties go-go dancer than a cop. I often got surprised looks when people would find out I was in law enforcement. My build wasn't the only thing that threw them off either. I drove an antique sports car more suited for racing than police work, making people often do double takes.

I narrowed my eyes and growled. Funny, I pulled my phone from my belt. Truthfully, no one ever called me, just the department when I was needed. Otherwise, my phone was a glorified MP3 player/Internet device that rarely got used between cases.

This phone only goes off when there's been a crime. I gave him a sideways look.

Oh... I... I... He sputtered. I didn't know they had those in Tylerville.

I quickly snapped a photo of the man's face with my phone because his expression was priceless. He continued to sputter a lame apology but it was useless. I quickly saved the photo and answered the call. I fought the urge to smile as the man in front of me started to blather another, more earnest apology and I quickly shushed him.

This is Ishikawa. What's up, Jant? I asked even before the person on the other end could say 'hello'. I knew who it was because I knew the number by heart.

You need to get back to Tylerville as fast as you can, Jant said, his silky smooth voice making my toes tingle in spite of the urgency of his tone.

What happened? I walked towards the exit of the convention hall without a good-bye to the man who had been laughing at me. Jant's tone was enough to put a fire under my ass, just like his voice was enough to send heat through my veins. I knew it was more than just the usual stuff we dealt with.

Someone's been murdered. Get back to town now,  Jant said firmly.

My blood ran cold. I was unable to believe my ears.Wait... A murder? Like a shooting?

More like a stabbing,  Jant replied.

A stabbing? I repeated.

Yes. You have to see it to believe it,  Jant said. Just hurry.

**

**

I got back to town about an hour later and found the three story house where the murder had taken place. I double checked the address before I stopped my car in front of it. I got out, the sound of someone wailing reaching my ears as I approached the house. I walked up the drive and scanned the area, stopping when I saw the woman through the front sliding glass door.

She was still dressed up from going out, probably on a date. My first instinct was to think it was someone very close to the victim because of how distraught she was. I noted her hands were stained with blood, my next thought being the hope she didn't mess up any of the evidence. I know that was kind of cold but crime scenes are really delicate things, you see.

One thing out of place or evidence left by a distraught family member could really impede things. Precious time could be easily wasted eliminating what had happened during the crime and after. It also was not good to pull in people who weren't even involved because rumors could fly and ruin reputations. In a town as small as Tylerville, it could be truly devastating.

I entered the residence through the glass door and quickly located where all the action was happening. It seemed the murder had taken place upstairs and I walked to the staircase. I climbed the stairs as I reached into my jacket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. I put them on as I arrived on a mezzanine level and I took a look around to see what I would be dealing with.

To my right were the doorway of what appeared to be a teenager's bedroom from the mess it was in and the epicenter of activity. The first thing that attracted my attention was the unit photographer and the obscenely bright flash of his camera as he snapped pictures of the victim. He must have heard my displeased hiss and he looked at me.Oh. I see you've come out of your coffin, Ixora.

His pudgy body blocked my view of the victim so I looked around the room instead, which wasn't that big but a comfortable size. It was almost like it had been built to accommodate the roaming habits of a teenager. That is to say, it was little more than a place to sleep between school and going out with friends. It probably would have been rather nice if it was clean but it looked like a pig sty to me.

Piss off, Frank. I hissed as I walked into the room and I put my foot down on a dirty dinner plate. I kicked it aside as I gave Frank a dirty look he couldn't see. I really loathe Frank Monaco. He was middle aged, fat, had a bad comb-over, sloppy and looked like a guy that would be caught jacking off in a van in front of the local elementary school.

Something about him seriously gave me the creeps from day one and I had never been able to shake the feeling. I was pretty sure he had bodies buried in his backyard or something equally nefarious. How he had become a forensic photographer was beyond me. Some of his shooting angles made me wonder if he even knew what he was doing.

Right back at ya, Frank turned to me and smirked as I stepped gingerly over another plate. He treated my dislike for him as a big joke but it wasn't. I knew somewhere he had a dirty secret and it was only a matter of time before it came out. His smirk faded a bit as he motioned to the victim,  Have you ever seen anything like this?

I turned my attention to the bed and looked at what appeared to be a young man no older than seventeen that was very naked with a sword shoved in his chest. His bed was soaked in blood and, I noted with a bit of chagrin, there were several semen stains on the sheets. Whatever the boy had been up to when he ended up like he did it probably wasn't good. He would have been very attractive if he had been alive and made me wish I had seen him when he was still drawing breath.

I shook my head to clear out the unprofessional thought and tried to concentrate on the weapon used in the murder. You really don't see too many sword deaths in 21st century Texas but anything is possible. I walked closer to the bed to get a better look at the sword and decided that it was an antique and very much real. I heard the sound of the coroner's gurney and knew they would have to remove the blade for it to be tagged as evidence.

Are you ready for us here?Eric, one of the coroner's assistants, poked his head in the door.

I looked around at the scene then to Frank the Snake,  Has all the evidence been collected?

Frank nodded, Yeah. It's being tagged as we speak and I just took the last picture. Jant found something and told me to take a picture of it just in case it was important.

Great,  I said. I looked at Eric, the assistant closest to me, and pointed at the sword. I don't think Coroner Rodgers is going to have a problem finding the cause of death.

Me either,  He said. He then frowned,  I don't think we can get him in the van with that thing poking out of him much less on the gurney.

I'll give you a hand, Said Jimmy, who was at the other end of the gurney. He was Eric's identical twin brother. They were rather nerdy looking dishwater blondes that were much stronger than they appeared. They both were quite pale and their blue-eyes were so light, they were almost white.

They moved to the side of the bed once they got the gurney off to the side.You hold him down Jimmy, Eric pointed to the young man's shoulders. I'm going to pull this out slowly so I don't damage anything else.

Jimmy nodded as he took the position he was told to.Yeah, Corner Rodgers will be mad if we gouge the wound.

On three, Eric said. One. Two. Three!

I can't describe the noise the sword made as it was pulled out of the young man but it was enough to send Frank out of the room. I smiled as I heard the prick throwing up in the adjoining bathroom. I loved the fact I could be so detached as others stared at me with what could only be described as reverence.

That thing must have gone all the way to the floor,  I whispered to myself as I realized how much effort Eric had used to dislodge the weapon. I was half tempted to get down on my hands and knees just to satisfy my morbid curiosity.

Yeah. It did. I took a look for myself; Jant came into the room from the adjoining bathroom and nearly scared the shit out of me for I didn't know where he had been hiding. He was one of two crime techs in the Tylerville police department and considered the second scariest person on the force next to yours truly. James Anthony Nicholas Taylor The Third stood six feet four (exactly six inches taller than myself) and weighed at least two hundred and thirty five pounds though he didn't look like it. He looked like he weighed a lot less thanks to his muscular body.

He was our sole Crime Scene Investigator and a bonafide genius. He was well educated and had a sort of verticality that made it possible for him to work with both our department and the county. I still wasn't sure how it all worked but it did. The downside of it all was he was always moving around and leaving others to wonder if he even slept.

The truth of the matter was he barely did. He had a disorder that made it impossible for him to sleep longer than five hours at a stretch. He was impervious to sleeping pills and could only sleep once he was totally exhausted. Even then, he confided in me, his brain never really shut off and made deep sleep impossible.

In spite of that, he was one of those guys you would dream about but never think of ever meeting in real life. He looked like he should have been a male model or even a male stripper with the kind of body and good looks he had. His type was the kind that was idealized on the covers of romance novels but he was real and close enough to me to make me swoon.

I had pinched myself so many times after I had been introduced to him I caused several bruises to my upper arms. The man was a walking