Walter Bedsoe lived out on Long Island in a modest house. He was raking leaves on his yard when Mulder pulled up to his house.
"Mr. Bedsoe?" Mulder called out hesitantly.
"Yes."
"I'm Special Agent Mulder. I'm investigating a murder case. I thought that maybe you could help me."
"I've been retired from the NYPD for a year. I don't see how I can help you."
"They're similar to a case you investigated about ten years ago. Any information you can give me would be greatly appreciated."
"Oh those decapitations in the city. I heard about them on the news."
"Those would be the ones."
"Yeah, I remember that beheading case even after ten years. It happened in the parking garage in Madison Square Garden." Bedsoe said. "We never arrested anyone for that murder or any of the other beheading deaths that occurred around that time."
"I understand you suspected someone in the case."
"Yeah. His name was Russell Nash. He was an antiques dealer."
"An antiques dealer?" Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Seems like a popular profession."
"He had a shop over on Hudson Street." Bedsoe nodded. "I remember there was a sword at the crime scene. It was worth a million dollars. Originally, we thought the guy was killed for the sword but there was evidence that there had been a sword fight. What kind of nut uses a million-dollar sword in a sword fight? The guy Nash disappeared. Haven't seen him since."
"Do you know anyone who might have seen him?"
"No. We had someone working in forensics but she left the force at the same time that Nash guy disappeared. I suspected she ran off with him but it was really none of my business. It's not like he was under indictment or anything."
"Is there anything else?"
"No. Sorry. Not exactly my greatest case you know. I didn't solve it."
"Thank you," Mulder handed Bedsoe his card. "If you think of anything…."
"I'll give you a buzz," Bedsoe said. "I hate to think that some nut is out there again lopping off people's heads."
Jonathan Molestador was greeted by the ringing telephone when he returned to his apartment after his weekly tennis match. He was tempted to let the answering machine pick up but remembered that his father was supposed to call from overseas and would probably not appreciate getting the machine. He still answered the phone as he would at work. You never knew when the boss was calling.
"Molestador."
"Agent Molestador, this is Agent Mulder."
Jonathan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, you are the last person I expected to hear from. Especially at my home."
"I called because I needed some information and I thought you'd be the best person to ask."
"I don't know how I could possibly help you. My life is quite steeped in the mundane. No UFOs or aliens here."
"It's about your sister."
"I don't see what my sister would have with one of your X-files."
"It's about her godfather, Reynaldo Montoya. As you probably have heard he was found murdered last night."
"Reynaldo is dead?" Jonathan said incredulously.
Oh shit! "Yes. I'm sorry. I thought you knew."
"No. I didn't," Jonathan said. "She isn't a suspect is she?"
"No. But she did see the man who was the last person to see Mr. Montoya."
"I see. Have you spoken to my sister?"
"I have. I wanted to verify some things with you."
"Of course," Jonathan nodded as though Mulder was in the room to see the gesture. "My sister, Reina, she has –problems with authority."
"What can you tell me about Reynaldo?"
"He was a friend of our mother," Jonathan told him. "I have to admit I haven't seen him in awhile. There's a ten-year age difference between Reina and I. Once I left for college I didn't come back home much. Reina and I aren't that close. I haven't seen Reynaldo in over ten years. I came back to DC after our brother's funeral before Reynaldo was able to get back into the country."
"How old was Reynaldo?"
Jonathan bit his lip. "He had to be at least 60. Our mother would have been 59 had she lived."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Is there anything else? I should call Reina."
"No that's it. Thanks."
Reina did not deal with death well. She never did. Instead of dealing with her issues of grief and loss she tended to bury herself in some kind of busy work in an attempt to bury all her feelings. If she hadn't anything to do she would pace trying to dissipate the excess energy. At the moment she was pacing the floor of her bedroom trying to pull everything together. It was important to her to try to be strong but frankly it was all overwhelming. The police and the FBI were asking questions that she did not want to answer. And she knew that eventually she'd be forced to answer those questions she had to come up with something plausible. She had a feeling that the FBI agents were not going to be easily put off. Especially if what she remembered about Agent Mulder was correct. In addition, Agent Mulder didn't believe her when she told him she didn't know who the girl in the picture was. It was only a matter of time before he figured out that she was the girl in the picture. The fact that Reynaldo hadn't aged in over a decade would be a dead giveaway that something about Reynaldo was different. Eventually, he would find out about her and Richie and Duncan. It was a scenario that was simply unacceptable. Having the FBI agents find out about immortality could be a very dangerous thing. Then there was Jonathan who had no clue as to what she was. Reina had no intention of telling her surviving brother anything about immortality until she absolutely had to. Otherwise she might end up in a psychiatric hospital of some sort. Jonathan already thought that Reina was slightly less than sane as it was. A story about beheadings and quickenings wouldn't help any.
The phone rang interrupting her thoughts. Reina answered it dreading more questions from the police. Once she heard the voice on the phone she wished it were the police calling her home.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me about Reynaldo?" Jonathan's angry voice blasted into her ear.
Reina closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. "Hello Reina, it's been awhile. How are you?" She said. "Well long time no hear Jonathan. It has been awhile. How have you been?"
"Don't play games with me Reina. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't get around to it. I was going to call you as soon as the arrangements were made."
"I had to hear about it from Agent Mulder!"
Damn he's digging already. "Sorry."
"Is that all you have to say?"
Reina blew air forcefully through her nose. "No. Reynaldo was murdered last night. I have been kind of busy answering questions from the police and the FBI. I've also been trying to make arrangements. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to pick up the phone and call you right away. What difference does it make? You hardly knew him. It's not like you were close. Surely you could've waited until I was able to make the arrangements before you were notified! What's the big deal?"
Jonathan sighed. "I can be up in a few hours."
"No. Duncan and Richie are here. I don't have room to put you up. Besides, I don't want you up here."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll go into ultra bossy mode and I'll have to hurt you. This is not the time for that shit."
"But you have strangers up there."
"They are not strangers. They're friends. And they were supposed to be visiting for the weekend before all this happened. Duncan said he'll stay as long as I need him to," Reina made a face at the phone sensing that Jonathan was about to cop an attitude. "Listen, Jon, I've got a lot of things to do. I'll let you know when the funeral is going to be so you can come up. Okay?"
"Fine."
"Promise me you'll stay put until I call you."
"I promise."
"Good. I'll talk to you later."
"Bye."
Jonathan immediately dialed out after breaking the connection with his sister. "I'd like a round trip ticket to New York as soon as possible."
Mulder scowled as he went over his notes. He knew that Reina Molestador was hiding something. She had deliberately lied to him about her Godfather's age and about the identity of the girl in the picture. He was willing to bet a year's salary that the girl in the picture and the woman he spoke to was one and the same. Which led him to one seemingly impossible conclusion. The man in the picture hadn't aged in over ten years. This is one theory he knew Scully would balk at. Mulder smiled as he pictured Scully arguing with him.
Mulder that's impossible, everyone ages.
"Mulder?" Scully called from the other side of the door, which led to the adjoining room.
"Come on in Scully," Mulder said.
Scully walked into the room and pulled up a chair. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?" She asked. "How did you know that the victims had swords on their person?"
"I've seen cases similar to this one before."
Scully looked at Mulder irritably. "You mentioned that. You neglected to mention the swords."
"There are dozens of cases going back years," Mulder continued. "New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seacouver. Just to name a few. Bodies found decapitated. Most of the victims carrying sharp bladed objects."
"Like a sword."
"Exactly." Mulder said. "So, what did you find out from the autopsy?"
"Autopsies," Scully corrected her partner.
"What did you find?"
"Cause of death is a gunshot wound to the chest, the head cut off postmortem," she said. "I removed the bullets. The forensics people should be able to tell us if the bullets came from the same gun. But they won't know until tomorrow at the earliest."
"You didn't send them to DC?"
"Mulder this is New York City, not some hick town in the boonies. They are perfectly capable of testing the bullets. Besides, this is still their case. It would help interagency cooperation if I just took the bullets and sent them off to DC as though there weren't a perfectly good forensics lab here."
"Anything else?"
"No both victims were perfectly healthy. I didn't find any sign of illness. No pathogens of any kind. Not even minor cuts. Of course there's still the toxicological results but I'm not expecting to find anything there."
"Not even minor cuts? No nicks, no bruises?"
"Nothing," Scully said. "If they weren't murdered they could've lived to be a hundred."
"I hope I'm that healthy at 60," Mulder said.
"Sixty?" Scully raised an eyebrow at Mulder. "Neither one of the victims were sixty."
"I spoke to Agent Molestador he said that Mr. Montoya was around their mother's age. She would have been 59 had she lived."
"I'm telling you Mulder. I examined those bodies. There is no way that man was 60. I'd say he was 40, 45 tops."
"Really?" Mulder smiled. "That would explain a few things."
"Like what?"
"Why Ms. Molestador lied to me about knowing her godfather's age."
"You think she lied about knowing his age? Why?"
"To cover something up."
"Like what Mulder?"
"What if he didn't age at all Scully?"
"That's ridiculous. Everyone ages Mulder. Some just more obviously than others."
"I'm telling you Scully," Mulder said. "I saw a picture that had to be at least 15 years old and he looked exactly the same as he did in those crime scene photos. What if he didn't age? How long do you think he could live?"
"Forever, I guess," Scully said. "But Mulder, no one is immortal. The man is dead. You probably saw a picture of his father or uncle."
"Maybe the only way he could die is to have his head cut off," Mulder said. "The man was shot first then beheaded. Why?"
"Maybe it was part of the killing ritual. You know as well as I do that serial killers are often ritualistic about their killings."
"This is no serial killer."
"But you said…."
"I know but the spacing of some of these killings, there's no way that one person could have committed all of the murders."
"Maybe there's a cult involved."
"Or maybe he can only die by beheading," Mulder grabbed the phone. "I want to know a little more about Mr. Montoya and his sword."
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