The Vitruvian Murders

“How does it feel to tailor wedding suits for three generations of the Smiths?” asked Brad who had his arms spread out as the tailor took the measurements.

They were in a small, cozy tailor shop owned by Mr. Marcus who’d spent his whole life tailoring clothes for people from all over the city. He was an old man now, and yet his hands were as steady as they had always been as he took the measurements.

“Oh, I guess I’m just lucky to have lived so long,” Mr. Marcus smiled at the young man. The old tailor brushed aside his long, white hair.  

Brad laughed and patted the tailor on the back. “Well, who knows? Maybe you might get to see my son here someday too.”

After the measurements were done, Brad bade the tailor farewell and exited into the snowy night.

Mr. Marcus got out his broom and began sweeping the floor. He had just got to cleaning the trial room when the bell at the front door of the shop rang. The tailor looked behind him but couldn’t see who had entered from inside.

“We’re closed,” he said in his croaky voice. “Please come back tomorrow.”

There was no reply. Just the sound of the door closing and the bell ringing again. Mr. Marcus continued sweeping away. He looked up into the mirror in the trial room and saw a man clad in all black, including a black balaclava that covered his face, standing behind him.

He had his measurements ledger in his hand.

***

Brad Smith parked the car into his driveway and leaned against his car looking up into the sky. The snow continued to fall. Brad took out a cigarette, lit it and took a puff.  

This was going to be the last cigarette he would ever smoke before his marriage.

He took another puff and blew the smoke in the air. The smoke swirled with the snow in front of him. He was just taking another puff when the smoke subsided and a woman dressed all in black, including a balaclava that covered her face, stood in front of him.

***

The detective exited his car and took a sip of his coffee. It was early morning and the chilly windy air bit into his face as he walked up to the driveway.

“Christ!” he said when he saw the body at the busy crime scene. “I just came from a scene where a tailor’s decapitated head is missing and now we have a man who’s missing his left arm?”

Brad Smith was lying face up in the snow, his face staring up in shock. There was a deep stab wound in his abdomen and his left arm was missing. The detective watched a forensic expert pick up a cigarette from the snow with a bunch of tweezers.

The detective was just about to ask for the details when a cop came panting up to him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We’ve got more murders.”

“Christ.”

***

The detective opened the bag and his eyes went wide with fear when he saw what was inside. A head stared up at him, with the deceased man’s chopped up limbs bunched up around it like a grotesque bouquet.

“Where’s the rest of him?” he asked.

“We checked all the trash in the surrounding blocks, as well as the garbage trucks that came there,” said a police officer. “We can’t find the torso.”

The detective sighed. Each of the victims had lost a part of their body, either a limb, their head or their torso. He had a gut feeling that the killings were related.

What the hell’s going on?

Another police officer came panting up to him and he was already expecting the news that yet more victims had fallen.

“Sir, you better see this,” said the police officer showing him his mobile phone.

The detective eyes went wide.

He rushed to his car.

***

An ominous, opera music filled the city square that was situated in the middle of the city. The sound came from the center of the square where four figures dressed in black clothing, including balaclavas that covered their faces, were standing with their hands raised. A group of police officers had their guns trained on them.

In front of the group lay the sight that had shook the detective.

The missing limbs and body parts had been connected, like a jigsaw puzzle, to make a perfectly proportionate figure with various skin tones, within a perfectly symmetrical circle of blood which touched the tips of the limbs and the head of the long haired head. The detective realized it was tailors missing head that stared up at the sky.   

My god…

He saw a ledger propped against a speaker nearby which played the ominous music.

He picked up the ledger and opened it and saw that it belonged to the tailor. They were filled with measurements of the tailor’s clients. Some of the clients had been highlighted and he realized that those were all the men that had been killed.

As he skimmed through it he found a folded paper between some pages. He unfolded it and read what it said:

Sculpting 204

Final Assignment (40% of overall grade)

As a group, you will make a sculpture based on Da Vinci’s famous the Vitruvian Man, with a thematic twist. The uniqueness of your twist will be a big factor in the grade you get. For example, a Vitruvian cyborg. You could even use other creatures, or maybe even make it with body parts. Who am I to judge?

Professor DeLorean

Arts Department

A woman with thick beady glasses came up to the crime scene and raised her glasses, squinting as she looked. She turned to the people dressed in black.

“It’s very well made but since I gave you the idea I’m afraid it’s going to have to be a B-.”   

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