Thanks to you

Detective inspector Barnes looked up the 6 stairs that joined the small, ground level, terrace house to the busy Sydney street. At the top of the stairs stood constable Vin, hands behind back, feet a shoulder width apart, his police blue uniform immaculate. 

"Morning Sir," Vin said, nodding slightly.

Barnes slugged his way up the stairs, knees grinding with every step. "What time did you catch this?"

"About midnight sir. I was first here."

Something about the way he said "first" twigged Barnes. "First?" he asked, pausing on the landing, next to Vin.

"Yes sir. D.I. Wallace was here earlier, left at..." he pulled out his notebook, "2:13 a.m. sir."

"So why am I here then? It's his case right?" 

Vin check his notebook again and this time his cheeks flushed slightly, "He err, said he liked to leave the easy ones to the poor and needy." He glanced at Barnes, "His words, not mine sir. Sorry sir."

Barnes grunted, rattled the door handle and trudged inside, Vin close behind.

The apartment was an old style terrace house. It shared a thick concrete wall with each of its neighbours. Inside, the air was cool and dim. He glanced back at Vin who motioned for Barnes to keep moving towards the back of the house and to a side doorway.

It turned out to be the bedroom, and on the bed lay a woman, a twenty year old brunette in pink flannel pajamas, face down, her right hand next to her head, her left arm outstretched, hanging down over the side of the bed.

There was blood too, leaking out from under the left side of the victim, onto the quilt. Not natural causes then. That left suicide, accident or murder.

"Coroner not here yet?"

"Any minute sir, had another one down at Revesby to do first."

Barnes nodded and looked down at the body.

"So, what do we know?" he asked, a sour look on his face. He'd given up thinking he'd ever get used to death.

Vin, turned back a page of his notebook, "Martha Arlington, 20 years old, works in child care and studying to be a teacher. She was found by me sir, after a call from her neighbour, that's the house behind this wall," Vin touched the west bedroom wall, "after they heard some kind of fight at 11:32 a.m."

"You got here fast." Barnes wondered about a man who can be on the scene in 20 minutes looking ready for a dress parade. 

His eye wandered over the room. The bed was a simple box affair, no bed head or footer and looked like it had not been slept in. Next to the bed was a wardrobe, free standing, not built in. These old terrace houses were over a hundred years old, built long before built-ins were something you'd see in the average home. They were made to last too, any significant structural change now would require dynamite. The wardrobe was a solid, dark, wooden feature with a narrow mirror on the front. 

The doors creaked open on old hinges and inside hung a set of dresses, jeans and shirts, mostly dark shades that Barnes found difficult to reconcile with the pink flannel pyjamas over on the bed. 

Beside the cupboard was a dresser, it was a low height, only coming up to slightly above his knees and backed by a large mirror starting to de-silver around the edges. Barnes looked at himself, and Vin standing behind him. They were opposites, he thought. Vin was young, dark haired with a strong jawline standing upright and alert, and he, Barnes, was old, slumped and gray, his face crumpled like his jacket. The observation didn't improve his posture.

On the dresser was an assortment of makeup and tools used somehow in the process of application. Barnes didn't even know what half of them were. Over to the side of the dresser was a stack of what looked like greeting cards. He picked one up.

"Dear Martha, just a quick note to say thank you for being so kind in your time of grief. My Rudi is doing well and so is his new heart, and it's all thanks to you. The loss of a loved one is so painful, and yet you somehow have managed to think of my family during what must be such a difficult time. Thanks again, we will never forget you or your mother's provision. Love and thanks always Garla and Rudi Stryne."

Barnes looked over at Vin, "What's this?" he asked holding up the card.

Vin shrugged and walked over.

Barnes picked up another. "Martha, Thanks. I'm not good with cards, but had to jot a note to say thanks for allowing us to use your mum's eyes for Grace's cornea transplant. Thanks again. Don"

He frowned. He'd never seen thank you cards for an organ donation before. He looked at the stack, there were six, maybe seven cards here.

"Hey Martha. You're the best. Allan is going great, the liver is taking well. You know he'd be dead if not for you. And your mum of course ha ha. I know you charged a bit extra, but fair enough, we're dealing with life and death here, and there was no way I could just let Allan die. It was so lucky for us (sad for you) that your mum passed away when she did, if we'd stuck to the waiting list, well I don't want to think about it."

He placed it on the read pile and picked up a fourth. "They always draw love hearts don't they, and say the heart is the source of the human soul. What does it mean that another's heart is pumping in my son? Has his soul changed? Is he still my son? Sorry, this was meant to just say thanks to you, and your mother, but I find myself asking questions while I look at him sleeping. Such a beautiful boy, and now alive again, with a new heart. Lynn."

Vin was now reading the second card, "She seems to have recently lost her mother and donated bits of her to people in need. Bit dark, but generous I suppose. Not sure I'd want to give my mum away like that. Mind you, the recipient might end up worse off."

Barnes looked at Vin, "Your mum not the patron saint of the Vin family then?"

Vin shook his head.

Barnes continued, lifting the fourth card, "Only problem is she gave away her mum's heart twice."

"She must have been some mother. Doubt you'd be able to find my Mum's heart."

Barnes picked up the stack of cards. "Lungs," he said tossing it on the read pile and opening the next. "Heart," he said, "That's three hearts. Another liver," He put the last card down. "What the hell is going on here?"

Vin opened the top drawer of the dresser. "Oh hell," he said.

The drawer was full of cards, at least fifty of them. 

They both pause and looked at each other, processing the new information. Barnes finished first, "Check the freezer," he barked and headed for the kitchen.

"Sir," said Vin, "she has another fridge in the laundry."

But the laundry refrigerator wouldn't open, it took them a moment to see the small latch and padlock at the bottom of the door. 

"You lock your fridge at home Vin?"

"No sir."

"Get the cutter."

Vin was back in a minute with the bolt cutter and opened the fridge.

It was as they feared, the shelves were filled with small insulated containers. They opened several and confirmed each contained a separate organ. The first two were hearts, the third a pair of kidneys. A strange electronic device sat on the front of the top shelf. It looked like a phone. 

"Any idea what this is?" Barnes asked, picking it up.

It had some dials and buttons and he began pressing things. A screen lit up showing a graph with a wriggly green line and a straight red line, it looked something like a stock market graph that tracked the price of a stock over time.

"Temperature recorder," said Vin looking over Barnes' shoulder. "Green line is the temp, red line is the required temperature. My guess is if the green line spikes above the red line then the stock is ruined."

Barnes nodded. That made sense.

"So, organ trafficking? Time to call the Feds?" Vin asked.

Barnes sighed. "S'pose. Of course you know we'll have 'friend of the poor and needy' down here taking his gift back don't you?"

"Wallace?"

"Yeah. Wallace." said Barnes sourly.

Vin made the call, and Barnes went back to the bedroom. "What happened to you girl?" he asked. "One of your customers dissatisfied?" He walked around to the other side of the bed. "Or maybe a supplier?" He noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from under her body. "Hello. What've we got here?"

There was a ring from the front door, one of those old mechanical doorbells that you needed to twist to get it to ring. Barnes jumped. 

"That was quick," said Vin clomping over the old wooden floorboards to the door.

But it wasn't Wallace, it was the Coroner's team. Vin led them to the bedroom where they started labelling and photographing.

"Can you lift her just there and get a photo of that paper?" Barnes asked.

The medical team did, the paper was documented and handed to Barnes. 

It was another thank you card.

"Thanks to you, I have no wife. Thanks to you my soul is broken. Thanks to you my children will never be. Thanks to you. You live off the flesh of the innocent, stocking your larder with their morsels, dishing them out one by one to those too afraid to look their gift horse in the mouth. Thanks to you. Note to the police, come and get me, I won't put up a fight, you won't need a gun."

Barnes flipped the card and saw an address on the back.

"Going ok there Barnesy?"

Barnes slipped the card in an evidence bag and looked up. "Wallace. Fancy seeing you here."

"Thought I'd pop in and help out for a bit."

"No need,"said Barnes, "we're all done, just off to pick up the killer. Looks like we've stumbled on a major organ trafficking ring here. The Feds will be pleased." He headed for the door but paused and turned just before he left. "You know, just wanted to say thanks for this little gift you left for us poor and needy. Mighty kind of you."