Snap, Snap, Flash!

Snap, snap, flash! The light from Megan's camera bounced off the blood splattered wall of the tiny apartment. It caught in the eyes of Detective Inspector Walsh as he strode in to the dimly lit living room.

“Bit of a mess in here. Let's see how far we've got.” Walsh blinked a few times and tucked a few stray black hairs back under the hood of his crime scene suit. He rubbed his stubble with a gloved hand as he observed his petite new colleague crouching over the spot where a man's head should have been. She looked up at Walsh with an arresting smile – which seemed appropriate in their line of work. Her brunette curls, pulled back into a tight ponytail, cascaded down her back. Just a few tendrils of hair rebelled, fuzzing around her soft cheeks.

“Hi. Welcome to, er, Hell! For this guy at least." She stood and stepped away from the corpse. "I’m Megan Fielding, crime scene photographer. This is my first solo assignment, so forgive me if I take my time.” Even through her white, zip up overalls it was apparent that she had an exquisite figure.

“Hi, Megan. DI Walsh. Call me Jeff. No rush. How are you finding your first job?” He tried to stand up straighter and look less like a maggot in his white PPE but the coverall suits always had that feel to them. But not on Megan, apparently.

Just his luck to find an attractive woman among the aftermath of a violent murder. How was a man supposed to flirt in front of a dead guy with his head in a million pieces and with another copper guarding the door? This was hardly conducive to light-hearted banter. Why couldn’t he have met her in the pub, or at the station? Even a police uniform would be preferable to this creased snowman outfit. He put his shoulders back and pulled his stomach in, though he doubted she could tell.

“It’s a bit tricky with the lighting." Megan pointed at the missing bulb in the ceiling rose. "I prefer a studio set up, you know, with a full rig, umbrella diffusers, reflective boards, make up artist on stand by. But you have to take the work where you can get it."

Hang on - if she could be so relaxed around a bloody, decapitated mess then maybe he could too. “Shame the perpetrator didn’t leave the body by the window. We could have drawn the blinds to illuminate him. Although the glare from the sunset might overexpose the image at this time of day.” Jeff stepped between shards of broken coffee table glass and parted two slats of the blind. “But I bet you can make even this guy look good with the right filter.” He grinned.

Megan joined him on the other side of the room, picking her way between the bits of brain and skull that had scattered across the carpet. He reached out a hand to steady her past the overturned TV stand. She took it.

“I don’t mean to be pedantic,” said Walsh, “but you should really have your hood up. We don’t want any stray hair getting into the evidence. Lovely as it is.” His cheeks flushed. Not smooth Jeff, not smooth.

“Oh, sorry, you’re right. Would you mind helping me with it please? My work kit’s a bit bulky for making costume alterations.” Megan turned away from the Detective Inspector and pulled her tied-back hair to one side.

“Nice macro lens. Standard issue 10 megapixel camera?” Walsh shuffled up closer to his colleague. He was a good foot and half taller than her and he liked how that felt. He grasped the elasticated edge of her hood, lifting it slowly over her head.

“Yeah, but my favourite personal camera has 16. Of course that doesn’t always mean a better picture –“

“It depends on the camera’s sensor,” they said in unison.

Megan let out an awkward giggle. “Yes. My Nikon is excellent.”

“I’ll bet it is.” Jeff put his hands on Megan’s shoulders and gently turned her back round to face him again. “So you do this at home too?”

“Oh yes. Not quite like this, but my job is just an extension of my hobby really.” She looked up and took a small step back, so her eyes met his. “Is it all tucked in? My hair?”

“Just a few wisps left perhaps.” He slowly brushed the escaping strands under her hood and behind her ear, hoping she noticed that he brushed her cheek with his fingers as he drew his hand back.

“You into this too?” Megan tilted her camera lens towards Jeff’s face.

“Am I ever?”

There was a moment of silence as they breathed each other in.

“Sir!” came a deep, male voice from the hallway. “Sir, you ready for clean up?” It was Detective Anson.

Walsh turned his head towards the door and then back to the photographer. “Are you finished in here?”

“Not quite, but I won’t be long. Maybe you could stay while I take the last few snaps? I haven’t entirely enjoyed being alone with John Doe over there – I don’t think we have much in common. Between you and me, I think he lost his head before I got here.” She winked.

It was Jeff’s turn to giggle. “Well, you and I have plenty in common – a shared interest in dead bodies and er, unusual photography. Sure, I can hang around. I might learn something if you don’t mind talking me through your shots.” He smiled. “Detective Anson, can you give us. . .” he shrugged his shoulders into a question for her.

“Half an hour?” said Megan.

“. . .another hour please.”

“No problem, Sir. I’ll watch the door.”

Two hours later Jeff held the Central Police Station door open for Megan as she carried her kit back in. “Are you sure I can’t help you with that?”

“Quite sure. I may be small, but I’m determined. Did you learn much at the scene?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t mind going over at dinner.” Jeff smiled.

“I need to change. Blinding white doesn’t bring out my chocolatey eyes.”

“Mine either. I was counting on it showing off my pearly teeth.”

“I do like that smile. Meet you at The Bistro Bar at 8?”

“I’ll be there.”

***

“That bruschetta was amazing.” Megan wiped a napkin over her mouth. “It’s not often I’m so impressed by tomatoes on bread.”

“Sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest impression.” Jeff cast a coy glance at his companion. “So, tell me more about your photography outside of work.”

“I take it quite seriously. I spend more on my kit than I spend on my car. But then in my specific line of interest you need decent gear. I get the feeling you know what I mean.”

“I think I do. I had to agree when you were joking about studio lighting. I don’t work outdoors if I can help it. I like to control the environment. I actually like to control the subjects too. Does that sound weird?”

“No. Full control is vital. Down to the position of every limb, every finger. That’s why the police work is different – I can hardly reposition the victim before I get snapping.”

“Ah snapping - I like my snap-snap-flash-snap-snap-flash method. What else do you like to control? You know, when you’re shooting on your own time?”

“Oh, you know, timing, location. I prefer men to women, but I have been known to experiment with both. I don’t want to limit my options. Does that sound weird?”

“Maybe. I stick exclusively with women; I don’t get the same rush from men.”

“Interesting. Ah, the steaks are here.” She smiled and thanked the waiter.

“So, is he your type? You know, for a private shoot?” Jeff asked, picking up his fork as the man walked back to the kitchen.

“Nah, he’s too young. Probably, what, 19? Never done anything bad in his life. I need a bad boy.” Megan stuffed a few fries into her mouth and growled playfully.

“I must admit, I do like my subjects fresh-faced. It can be difficult to find them though. But if you’ll let me show you my albums, I’m sure we can spot a few we both like the look of.”

“Kinky! I don’t think we should share our snaps, or flashes, in public. You never know who’s looking over your shoulder and it would ruin more than our careers if anyone found out.”

“You’re right. Of course.” Walsh cut another strip of steak. “Wanna come back to my place and see my etchings?”

***

“That peppercorn sauce was divine. Shall we split this?” asked Megan, reaching into her handbag.

“No dessert?”

“How about a night cap over those etchings?”

“Let me get this. You can get the next one.” Jeff caught the waiter’s eye and made a hand sign for the bill.

***

“Wow, your place is spotless! I’m impressed.” Megan took her shoes off and left her handbag in the hallway before following Jeff through to the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s not just the photographer I take tips from. The clean up guys are useful too.” Jeff grinned as he fished two whisky glasses out of a head-height cabinet. “Scotch?”

“On the rocks, please.”

Jeff grabbed some ice from the freezer and poured a couple of generous drinks. “How about you get comfy on the sofa?” He nodded towards the door. “I’ll find my secret iPad – I keep it locked away, you understand.”

Jeff headed up the stairs, directing his companion into the living room. He returned a few minutes later with his tablet. “I hope you like my collection?” He nodded to the weaponry mounted on the wall behind the sofa.

Megan turned to look. “Yes, I did notice. I especially like the Samurai swords and throwing stars. Do you use them in your shoots?”

“Not so far. I don’t like to freak people out too much. I don’t even bring them in here really, it can spoil things if they get scared before we’ve even started. But if I found the right girl, perhaps.”

Jeff unlocked his iPad with his fingerprint and paused. “Are you sure you want to see this? I mean it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Of course I do. I’ve never met anyone who shares my interest, outside of work.”

“Yes, and the work lot are a bit stiff, aren’t they, all that process and procedure. I do like my images to be more, well, creative.”

“I like the sound of that! If you’re not sure you can start me off on the tamer ones first.”

Jeff tapped his screen a few times and input a couple of passwords, then swiped through a few more screens and finally turned the iPad to face his expectant date. “What do you think of this one? I quite liked her. Snap, snap.”

“Oh!” Megan reached for the tablet. “Not quite what I was expecting, she’s fully - intact. Does this mean you take pictures of the whole, er, process?”

“I never though of it that way, but yes, I suppose I do. I wasn’t sure how far I should go to start with, but I can skip to the end of the, er, process, and find you some others if you prefer?”

“No, no, this is fine. Let’s take it slow and see where we end up. Was this taken in your bedroom?”

“It’s the guest room. I try not to take them into my own room. Too close to home, I suppose.” Jeff swiped to the next image.

“I understand. Easier to get rid of any mess too if you have a designated space for it. Swipe a few more.”

Jeff skipped the next eight shots and stopped with a smile. “I really like the underwear she brought for this shoot, I'm a sucker for a peephole bra - snap snap - but it was sad when she put it back on afterwards.”

Megan cut him a quizzical look.

Jeff skipped a few more images and stopped again. “How about this one? Now here's the flash! No lingerie left on her at all.”

“She’s got her legs open!” Megan covered her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, were you not expecting full nude?” Jeff grabbed the iPad and closed the image bank. I should have warned you. I just assumed you were doing the same with men as I was doing with women.”

“Not exactly.” Megan looked up, her face was pale. “Not exactly.”

Jeff’s face flushed. “I feel like I’ve ruined the mood. I’m so sorry. Let me put this awful thing away.” He stood and took the iPad upstairs.

When he returned to the living room Megan seemed a little more relaxed. Jeff took a seat next to her. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. A simple misunderstanding, that’s all. We just have different tastes.” She picked up his drink from the coffee table and handed it to him.

Jeff swirled the scotch and let the ice cubes chink against the glass. “Thank you. I think a good nip of whisky will help.” He tipped a generous gulp into his mouth and swallowed hard. And then took another.

“Let’s sit back and talk about something else,” said Megan, stroking Jeff's hair with the backs of her fingers.

“So, what kind of photos do you take of these men?” he asked.

“I can show you if you give me a few minutes.” Megan reached down beside her, she must have collected her handbag from the hallway while Jeff was upstairs. She opened it and took out an iPhone.

Jeff coughed. Then choked. Then grabbed his throat and collapsed to one side.

Megan tapped on the phone screen.

“I just can’t abide innocent people being taken advantage of.” The phone camera snapped. “So sometimes I take my work home with me, as it were.”

“What have you done?” Jeff groaned.

“I really didn’t expect the evening to go this way. I’m actually very disappointed. I thought I’d found a soulmate. But I can’t very well allow a predator like you to walk to streets now, can I?”

Jeff clutched his chest, his breath short.

“Snap, snap," Megan said as she lifted her phone again and the shutter sounded. "Sometimes I use more brutal methods. But I have to plan for those, you know, plastic sheeting, tape, bags, that kind of thing. So, just for occasions like this, I carry a fast-acting nerve poison. It’s not as much fun but it’s just as effective and requires less clean up. Sometimes, like tonight, perhaps none at all.”

Jeff’s eyes half closed and his vision blurred. Megan sat him back upright on the couch, using a scatter cushion to prop him up. She was strong for her size and did it with little effort. His head lolled to one side. The phone camera clicked.

“Until now I’ve only ever taken pics of the final result. But you have inspired me to try capturing the whole process. You should be flattered. And I like the sound of snap-snap-flash.”

Megan lifted Jeff's head up off his shoulder and leaned it back against the sofa cushion.

"That's better," she said. "Looks like a peaceful sleep." She repositioned his arms, one on the arm of the sofa and the other in his lap. Taking a wipe from her handbag, Megan cleaned her own, half-full, whisky glass with it. Then she curled his fingers round the cut-glass tumbler until it sat steady on his thigh. "I'll wash the other one in a moment. Won't leave a trace."

Jeff moaned, twisted his wrist, and lost his grip on the glass. It suddenly tilted and threatened a spill. Megan made a grab for the tumbler and just managed to save it. "Well, we can't have that!" she said. "You still don't understand who's in control, but I think I have a way to demonstrate."

Megan put the drink back on the coffee table and sighed. "I didn't want to have to get nasty."

She lifted Jeff's left hand from his lap and bent one finger back while keeping the hand steady. "Snap!" she said as she dislocated his forefinger with an agonising pop.

Jeff moaned and made a weak attempt to pull his arm away but he had no strength.

"Snap!" Megan pulled his ring finger out of joint with another stomach churning noise, the searing pain in his hand brought white hot tears with it.

"And flash!" She took another picture and the light caught his eyes just like it had done at the crime scene - but this time he couldn't blink.