Rebecca and I werre on the trail of Luis Majorca, aware that he was a danger to society.
Our fears were confirmed when his wife called the prcecinct and asked that we come and see her.
Obviously, she had something to confide.
Liliana Majorca was a very gracious woman, but she had a furtive look in her eyes. I had seen the look before in the wives’ of career criminals or the spouses of syndicate bosses.
We were served tea and biscuits and Liliana was charming, but extremely agitated.
“Luis has never physically abused me—I’m sure you noticed the domestic calls, but he never laid a hand on me. I’m afraid the abuse I’ve suffered is more the emotional kind.”
Rebecca nodded knowingly. I maintained silence.
“I found out Luis had several affairs—all around the time he was first arrested for possession of drugs. I thought it was all behind us, when his license was reinstated—but within a few years, he was in trouble again and finally, permanently disbarred from practicing medicine.”
I sympathized with her, “I’m sorry to hear that Mrs. Majorca—it must be difficult—especially bringing up a young daughter.”
“Chari is five and unaware of her father’s troubles. It’s mostly impacted me, I’m afraid—his infidelities have never ended—but that isn’t why I called you.”
“Why did you call us?” Rebecca asked quietly.
“I’m horrified to tell you—what I’ve learned is beyond comprehension.”
“You can confide in us, Mrs. Majorca,” I reassured her.
“My husband began a new business—a legitimate business wherein he obtained a license to deal in tissues, organs, bones and body parts—all used to aid people. He won back my admiration. I thought what he was doing was heroic.”
I was perplexed. “I don’t understand what the problem is, Mrs. Majorca.”
She began dabbing at her red eyes with a balled up Kleenex.
“Luis dealt with funeral homes and would take the human tissue, bones and organs and ship them to hospitals here and in North America to be used for transplants, skin grafts, dental implants and even the restoration of sight.”
“It sounds admirable,” Rebecca offered.
“It wasn’t,” Liliana hissed. He was illegally taking materials from corpses—some infected with all kinds of diseases such as Cancer, Hepatitis and even Aids.”
Rebecca’s gaze met mine—her eyes were wide with horror.
“He made me sign certain forms—I had no idea what they were or what I was witnessing to—but he assured me it was ‘just business’. I had no idea until today, when he finally confessed the truth to me.”
“Where is your husband now, Mrs. Majorca?” I asked.
“I have no idea. He asked me if he should flee. I told him stay and fight—if he did something wrong, he should defend himself.”
Rebecca interrupted, “But he didn’t take your advice, did he? He’s fled.”
She nodded. “How this came about was a fluke—a body in a suspected poisoning case was exhumed and the coroner discovered the bones of both legs had been removed and replaced with PCV pipe.”
Rebecca gasped, “but why?”
Liliana shrugged helplessly. “He told me the price per gram of bones is almost double the price of gold.”
“My God,” I said, “the man has no conscience.”
“He’s a modern day ghoul,” his wife wailed, “ a sophisticated grave robber. He told me he’s sawn corpses in half—using a power saw and hammers.”
Rebecca excused herself and hurried out of the room. I sat in stunned silence.
“He flew us to Disneyland for a vacation and when we returned, we were met at the airport and served with papers. The investigators are now at his London clinic searching through his files and papers—it won’t be long before they find out he’s been doing all this illegally.”
“But he couldn’t have carried out the work there,” I prodded, “he must have some other clinic—someplace where he took the corpses to dismember them.”
She shook her head. “The only clinic he ever mentioned was near Nottingham Place.”
“Nottingham Place—isn’t that near The Princess Grace Hospital?” I asked.
“Yes, I think so. He called me from there once or twice.”
Rebecca came back in looking pale and shaky.
I patted her arm sympathetically and whispered, “Call headquarters and get them to give us a list of private health clinics in a five mile radius around The Princess Grace Hospital.”
Two hours later, we found Luis Majorca’s clinic, near a family funeral home.
We obtained a warrant and searched the premises, but Luis had fled.
What we discovered was truly horrifying.
There were stainless steel tubs and sinks and strainers for allowing blood to drain. There was putrefied flesh and tissue everywhere—but what appalled us most, was the array of blood stained power tools stacked haphazardly on an old metal shelf.
A detailed investigation revealed over a three -year period, a thousand bodies had been illicitly obtained and subjected to various indignities.
The worst part was notifying the relatives of the deceased—they were subjected to a second shock of grief and mourning.
Some weren’t even certain the ashes they were given after cremation of their relatives, belonged to their loved ones.
A year has passed and we’re still seeking Luis Majorca. When he’s found, he will undoubtedly be given a life sentence of twenty-five years with no possibility of parole.
Some days I think about him and wonder what caused him to go astray. I’m still profoundly disturbed by his indifference to human suffering.
Luis Majorca is one of our most wanted men, but capturing and punishing him will not be sufficient to atone for his despicable acts.
Thomas Hobbes said it best: he that is taken and put into prison or chains is not conquered, though overcome…
He is still an enemy
