Chapter 14: A Map of Truth
Kate emerged from the washroom, her wet hair cascading down her shoulders as she stood before the mirror of her dressing table. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, prompting her to take a shower after returning from the pawnshop to soothe her tense body and frayed nerves.
"I’ve never heard of The Watchers before, but the way Clark spoke about them made it seem like they’re a well-organized group or even a cult," Kate mused, continuing to comb her hair.
Exiting her bedroom, she made her way to the adjacent small room—her study. Here, she stored all her work-related files and materials, a space dedicated to her professional endeavors.
Kate stood before a whiteboard, methodically pinning various photos and notes. With each addition, the board began to fill with a mosaic of clues and information. Stepping back, she surveyed her work, her gaze sweeping over the assembled evidence with a mix of determination and anticipation.
"This is Jim, the owner of the pawnshop, and this is Clark, a student at Flinders University," Kate announced, her voice echoing in the quiet room. She had captured their photos while they conversed in the pawnshop, having hidden behind a cupboard to gather crucial evidence.
"I need to uncover who they are and why they were so fixated on the original copy of the Rubaiyat," Kate declared, jotting down her determination in her diary before placing it back on the nearby table.
"What could be so significant about a mere book of poetry? On one hand, a killer sends a page along with a dead body, and on the other, a student abandons his classes to inform an old man about its existence," Kate pondered aloud, frustration coloring her voice as she grappled with the unanswered question.
Kate studied the photos of the dead body, focusing on the symbols around its belly button and comparing them to images from the Persian and English versions of the Rubaiyat.
"I recognize these symbols: death, life, and continuity. Their meanings are easily accessible on the internet," Kate remarked, her gaze lingering on the intricate symbols surrounding the deceased’s belly button.
Examining the symbols drawn on the torn page of the Rubaiyat, she frowned. "But what do these three symbols mean?" she wondered, looking closely at the page.
Three symbols were drawn alongside quatrains. The first symbol depicted a twisted serpent encircled within a ring. The second symbol featured a star. Lastly, the third symbol depicts a goat-headed figure with a human body.
Opening her laptop, Kate attempted to decipher the meaning of the symbols using an internet browser, but her search yielded no results.
"There must be someone who knows the meaning of these symbols," Kate sighed, closing her laptop.
Sitting in her revolving chair, she glanced around the room absently. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon a line from the English version of a quatrain from the Rubaiyat. Intrigued, she approached the board and read the quatrain aloud, her voice resonating with curiosity and determination.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness —
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
"He killed the man intentionally," Kate murmured under her breath, her voice heavy with realization. She read the five quatrains aloud once more, her tone growing increasingly restless. "The killer was aware of his impending act and took pleasure in it," she declared, unease creeping into her voice. The first quatrain hinted at the killer's enjoyment and how the murder scene became a paradise for him.
Without hesitation, Kate picked up her phone and dialed Roderick's number. As he picked up, she said urgently, "Roderick, come to my place immediately. I need to show you something."
"What's going on, Kate? Is everything all right?" Roderick inquired, sensing the urgency in her tone.
"I'll explain when you get here," she replied, impatience palpable in her voice.
"But I have a meeting with Henry, and he'll be here soon," Roderick protested.
"It can't wait, Roderick. Please, just come over," Kate insisted, her tone firm.
"He's probably coming to tell you how far we are from reaching our annual profit target," Kate snapped in frustration.
"We can discuss that later. If we want to solve the case at Somerton Beach, you need to come to my house," she insisted before ending the call abruptly.
She knew Roderick would come. As expected, half an hour later, the doorbell rang, and she rushed to answer it.
"What's the urgency?" Roderick asked as he stepped inside.
"Come to my study, and I'll show you," Kate replied, leading the way.
"No, you go to the kitchen and make two black coffees, and bring me something to eat. I'm an old man, and I can't work without energy," Roderick instructed, gently nudging her toward the kitchen.
He knew Kate's house well, having visited often during her journalism days to see her father, a retired journalist and his close friend.
After a few minutes, Kate entered the study with a tray, ready to serve the black coffee and snacks as requested.
"Here's your coffee and sandwich. Now, listen to me," Kate said, placing the tray on the study table and positioning herself in front of the whiteboard.
Roderick settled into the revolving chair, glancing around the room before focusing on Kate.
"All right, tell me," he replied, ready to hear what she had to say.
"Today, I went to Flinders University and asked my friend if he knew what was written on this paper," Kate began, gesturing to the printed copy of the torn piece found in the coat of the dead body.
"My friend is a language professor, and he informed me that the text is in Persian. It's a fragment from the well-known poetry book, Rubaiyat, written by Omar Khayyam," she explained.
Roderick listened attentively as Kate continued.
"He translated the five quatrains into English for me. When I came back home and read them, something sparked in my mind," she said.
"And what was that?" Roderick asked eagerly.
"First, let’s read the five quatrains aloud," Kate suggested, setting the stage for their discussion.
Seeing the seriousness on her face, Roderick pulled the chair closer to the whiteboard. With determination, he began reading the quatrains aloud, his voice filling the room with the poetic verses of the Rubaiyat.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness —
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!" – think some:
Others – "How blest the Paradise to come!"
Ah, take the Cash and let the Credit go
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life a way to win
What? For ourselves who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!
Look to the Rose that blows about us – "Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes – or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two – is gone
(Omer Khayyam)
"I've read it," Rodrick remarked, turning his attention to Kate, curious about why she had him read the quatrains aloud.
"Focus on the first quatrain," Kate urged. "The killer quoted it as a representation of the pleasure he felt while committing the murder."