The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  She started to cry, so Eulalie handed her a tissue.

  “Thank you. Sorry… I thought I was over this. I’ve told this story so many times I thought I wouldn’t get upset again.”

  “I can’t even imagine how awful it must be for you. He only chased me, but I still have dreams about it.”

  Ruby nodded. “I see him in my nightmares. I had hardly walked a few steps from the B&B when I heard a sound. I thought somebody had called my name, but afterwards I wasn’t sure. As I stopped, this man came out of nowhere and slammed into me, clamping his hand over my mouth. He dragged me off the road and into the bushes. I thought he was going to rape me.”

  It was exactly what Whitney had thought. Hearing her words echoed by his first victim made Eulalie feel cold.

  “Did he say anything to you? Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?”

  “He kept calling me a slut. He kept repeating that word over and over. Slut. Slut. That’s why I think he was lying in wait for me. I think he followed us from the bar and waited outside the B&B for me to come out again.”

  “You don’t think he was watching from a distance and then ran down to attack you when you came out?”

  Ruby shook her head. “It was so quick. I had hardly walked a couple of steps when he appeared out of the shadows. He was definitely waiting for me. He knew I’d spent the night with Jason, and he was angry about it.”

  “Could it have been someone who knows you? Did anything about him seem familiar?”

  “I… I don’t think so. He was speaking in a hoarse whisper. I didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose or if there was something wrong with his voice. But I couldn’t work out who he was. The police also asked me that.”

  Eulalie opened her messenger bag and took out the sketch.

  “Have a look at this. Does it look like anybody you know, or anybody you’ve seen around the place?”

  Ruby stared at the sketch for a long time.

  “No offence, but this is a really bad drawing. It looks more like a cartoon than an actual person. I can’t imagine someone looking like that.”

  “Sorry about that. I’m hopeless at drawing. He has light brown hair that he wears quite long on top and a little bit curly. He has freckles on his nose and his cheeks. His skin is quite pale, and his eyes are grey. He has a very open and friendly face. He looks like the sort of person that you would trust to walk your dog, not a murderer.”

  “A murderer? But nobody has died.”

  Eulalie’s heart contracted. She thought the news would have been all over campus by now. As gently as possible, she told Ruby about Carina Novak. Ruby’s tears started up again and she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.

  “That poor girl. It’s so awful to think of what she went through.”

  “He is about six foot tall. When he speaks normally, his voice is quite high-pitched. He has a South African accent.”

  Ruby frowned.

  “When did you hear him speak? I thought you only saw his face for a second when his mask slipped.”

  Eulalie knew she had made a mistake but couldn’t bring herself to regret it. It was too important that Ruby should have a full and proper description of the man Eulalie had seen.

  “He said something when he jumped out of the bushes at us,” Eulalie said. “I can’t remember what it was, but I remember what his voice sounded like.”

  “This sketch is giving me nothing,” said Ruby. “It doesn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen.”

  “But you think it might be someone you know, or someone who has been stalking you?”

  This was an angle that no one had considered – that the man had first attacked Ruby because he knew her or was fixated on her. Then he had discovered that he enjoyed terrorizing women with a knife and had moved on to strangers.

  “Let’s try something else,” said Eulalie. “Do you have any photos of you and your friends, or pictures of you standing in a big group of colleagues or acquaintances?”

  “I have pictures like that, sure.”

  “Can you show me as many as you have? I might be able to pick his face out of the crowd.”

  Ruby shivered. “It’s so horrible to think that he might be someone I know.”

  “Do you keep your photos in albums, or on a phone, or…?”

  “I don’t have a smartphone, just this Nokia. I take most of my photos on a digital camera. It has a lot of memory, so I seldom delete anything. Wait a moment…” She rummaged in her backpack. “Yes, here it is. You switch it on here, and then you click here to see the stored images. If you want to go backwards, click on this left arrow, and if you want to go forwards, click on the right.”

  Eulalie took the camera from her. She saw that there were 236 stored images. What were the chances that the man they were looking for was amongst them?

  Leaning back against the wall of the building, Eulalie began to flick through the photos. Many of them were pictures of Ruby on her own, or with a girlfriend. Then there were group pictures, which had obviously been taken at parties. There were some that had been taken right here in the philosophy department in a professional context. Eulalie looked just as carefully at those. She scrutinized every photograph, looking for an open, boyish face with smiley grey eyes and freckles. She was looking for the boy next door.

  The photographs stretched back about six months.

  Eulalie found what she was looking for about four months back.

  It was a photograph of an arts faculty garden party that had been held in the November of the previous year. There must have been upwards of fifty people in the photograph, but something about the tilt of the man’s head, and the way his curls lifted in the breeze brought a jolt of excitement to her chest.

  She held the camera out to Ruby. “How do you zoom in with this camera? Is it possible to zoom?”

  “Sure, you just keep clicking that little button. When nothing more happens, it means it can’t zoom anymore.”

  Eulalie clicked the little button, watching a face in the crowd get bigger and bigger. The picture clarity of the camera was excellent, but it had its limitations. When the picture began to get grainy and blurred, Eulalie reversed the zoom until she had the best possible focus on his face.

  “Who is this?” she asked, passing the camera to Ruby.

  Ruby looked at it and smiled. “Oh, that’s just Mike. Michael Vlismas. He’s a junior lecturer in the economics department. Why are you asking about him?”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “We hung out with the same crowd when we were undergraduates. He’s a complete sweetheart. He’s the kind of guy that every girl wants as her best friend. He even asked me out once but was perfectly happy to stay friends when I turned him down. The last time I saw him was at that garden party. He was as sweet as ever.”

  “It didn’t occur to you to mention him when I was describing a six-foot tall man with curly brown hair and a boyish face?”

  “Michael?” she said. “Of course, it didn’t occur to me. I’m telling you, Mike is an angel. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “He also happens to be the man I saw the other night,” said Eulalie.

  “No. You’re mistaken. You must be. Mike wouldn’t say boo to a goose.”

  “He has a high-pitched voice when he speaks, doesn’t he?”

  “Well, yes. But you’re not listening to me. There is no way this was Mike. None whatsoever.”

  “This,” said Eulalie, tapping the image with her forefinger. “This is the man who tried to attack me.”

  Donal

  “Good afternoon, Inspector. So good of you to see me.” Remus Selkirk flashed his megawatt smile at Inspector Petrick and shook hands.

  Petrick grunted. “Sit down.”

  Selkirk changed direction immediately. This was a man who couldn’t be charmed. Any attempt to do so would only succeed in irritating him.

  “You’re a busy man, sir, so I’ll get straight to the point.”

  “That would be ap
preciated.”

  “I understand from Constable Burns that you might be in the market for a software package that allows you more creativity in managing your salary payroll. That’s exactly what our package offers. Whether you’re a by-the-book man, or more of a free-thinker, we can tailor a package just for you.”

  A knock at the door made them both turn. Selkirk kept his smile in place. He hoped that Petrick would get rid of whoever it was quickly.

  “Come!”

  The door opened, and a woman walked in. She had a square face and short, no-nonsense hair. In her mid-thirties, she was a good twenty years younger than Inspector Petrick.

  “Come in and sit down, Tina. Mr. Selkirk, I asked Sergeant Shortridge to sit in on this meeting because she helps me with several administrative matters - such as the payroll, for instance.”

  “Inspector Petrick, this is confidential. We’ll be discussing sensitive financial matters. I really think it would be better if it were just the two of us.”

  “You can speak freely in front of Sergeant Shortridge,” said Petrick. “She knows everything there is to know about this department.”

  Selkirk watched the glance they exchanged and decided that Donal was right. These two were more than colleagues.

  “Very well, Inspector. Perhaps the most useful thing I can show you right now is a demonstration of what you will be able to do when your payroll is under the control of our software.”

  Petrick and Shortridge’s faces were stony, but they didn’t object.

  Selkirk opened his laptop, which had been preloaded with some basic accounting software and a mock-up of the monthly salary obligations of a small dummy business.

  “So, here we have a small to medium size organization that employs eighteen people. Let’s say we decide that not all eighteen of those people need to be on the fulltime payroll. Let’s say that Bill Brown here should really be a contract worker rather than permanent staff. That way, we don’t have to pay into his pension fund or give him these health and housing benefits that he currently enjoys. He will be paid on a weekly basis per hour worked. It’s the way of the future. Many organizations are moving their staff onto contract work these days.”

  Petrick and Shortridge didn’t look overjoyed, but they were listening, which was a good sign.

  “So, the amount of money you are spending on Bill Brown per month has dropped from, let us say, two thousand pounds a month to sixteen hundred pounds a month. That’s a saving of four hundred pounds, and all completely legal and above board.”

  He paused for them to react. Neither officer looked particularly excited at the prospect of saving the Scottish taxpayer four hundred pounds a month.

  “But look at this,” said Selkirk. “Bill Brown has not been deleted from the list of fulltime staff. He is still there. Most software programs won’t allow you to duplicate an employee profile like that. They would detect that you have two employees by the same name and national insurance number and record it as an error. But not our software. Look here. It even allows you to edit Bill Brown’s name. What shall we call him now? How about Suzie Smith? Because that’s what auditors tend to look at, isn’t it? They would notice duplicated names, but not necessarily duplicated national insurance numbers. So, now you’ve got Bill Brown contract worker who is earning sixteen hundred pounds a month, and we also have Suzie Smith who is earning two thousand pounds a month on the regular payroll. You have two thousand pounds extra coming in that you can use for any purpose you choose. Good works in the community. Charitable initiatives. That sort of thing.”

  Selkirk looked up and smiled at Inspector Petrick and Sergeant Shortridge. He didn’t quite wink at them, but it was close.

  “Tell me, Mr. Selkirk,” said Inspector Petrick. “Are you working with the authorities to uncover financial irregularities in our division?”

  Selkirk froze. All this time he had thought that he was playing them, and they had seen right through him. Had they known what he was up to from the moment Constable Burns made the approach? Selkirk knew his face was flooding with color. It was his one weakness – this tendency to blush when caught unawares. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Then he noticed the way Petrick and Shortridge were looking at him. There was no amusement in their expressions. They were genuinely waiting for a response.

  “I didn’t…”

  He ground to a halt and tried to think. Inspector Petrick was asking if this was a form of entrapment, which it was.

  Did that mean he had to tell them the truth? What was it Donal had said? This sting didn’t need to hold up in court. It just had to be good enough for the media to pick up the story and run with it. That would put pressure on the authorities to investigate properly. Donal might only be twenty-years-old, but he was one of the smartest people Selkirk knew.

  Selkirk cultivated a contrite expression. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I didn’t mean to suggest that you should use this software for anything illegal. You’re police officers after all, right?” He laughed nervously.

  “So, you aren’t working for the authorities?” Inspector Petrick repeated.

  “Absolutely not. I’m a salesman, sir. My only boss is the commission I make on each sale. I thought we were on the same page about this software, but I guess I misread the situation. I’m sorry, and I’ll get out of your hair now.” He made as if to close his laptop.

  Sergeant Shortridge lunged towards him, as though to stop him from leaving. Inspector Petrick put out a hand too.

  “No need to be hasty, son. In this day and age, you can’t be too careful. I’m sure you understand.”

  Selkirk gave an eager nod. “Of course.”

  “We are very interested in your software and what it can do. Perhaps you could show us more.”

  “Certainly, Inspector. As you know, the police station offers generous home loan terms to officers. This takes the form of a subsidy that is paid directly to the bank. Many employees choose not to take up that benefit because they prefer to rent or aren’t ready to enter the property market yet. Our software allows you to add the subsidy to an employee’s salary benefits without it ever appearing on their salary statement.”

  Sergeant Shortridge sat forward. “So, the employee would never know that they were supposedly receiving the home loan subsidy, but it would appear on our payroll records?”

  “Yes, exactly. The subsidy amount could then be diverted into any channels you choose. Another community upliftment project, perhaps.”

  This time Selkirk did wink. Petrick and Shortridge both laughed.

  “This all sounds very promising.”

  “Would you be interested in the package with the flexible home loan subsidies, or the Deluxe package that includes the capacity to create contract workers while keeping permanent employees on the roll?”

  “We’ll want the Deluxe package,” said Inspector Petrick, as Sergeant Shortridge nodded. “The housing subsidy trick is cute, but the real money lies in duplicating salaries.”

  “You have to be smart about it. If you create too many dummy employees, you will only draw attention to yourself.”

  “We’re not planning to do this forever,” Inspector Petrick said. “Just until we’ve got enough money to retire comfortably. Then we’re out of here.”

  “Our software package will help you to achieve that goal.”

  “I think we’ve heard enough to make a decision. Is there anything more you need from us?”

  “No,” said Remus Selkirk. “I have everything I need.”

  Epilogue

  Eulalie

  The events that followed would become familiar to Eulalie later on in her life, but for now they were confusing, exhilarating, exciting and stressful.

  She tried to keep herself out of it as much as possible, but the only way to kick the process off was to give a statement to the police in person. She went to the police station and told them she believed that the person who had attacked her and Fleur was Mic
hael Vlismas in the economics department. She gave them the same story she had given Ruby – that his mask had slipped for a moment and she had seen his face.

  She told the police she believed he was hiding evidence in the house that he shared with two other graduate students.

  Eulalie had no particular reason for believing this, but she thought it must be likely. All three of his surviving victims had described a knife very much like the one she and Fleur had seen him carrying. If it was the same knife, he must be keeping it somewhere. He must be cleaning it somewhere.

  She also believed that his habit of cutting women would lead to blood stains on his clothing. Either he was dumping outfit after outfit, or there were clothes of his that might still have traces of the victims’ blood on them.

  She believed it was vital that his home be searched without loss of time, and so she steeled herself to give the statement.

  She was met with just as much suspicion and incredulity as she’d expected, but she stayed calm and stuck to her story. After the death of Carina Novak, the police and campus security were desperate enough to follow up on any lead, even one they suspected to be a hoax.

  And so, the police had descended on Michael Vlismas’s house in a dawn raid at five in the morning. They had found him at home and fully dressed, as though he were returning from somewhere. This added fuel to their suspicions, so they tore his house apart.

  Eulalie, watching from the cover of an oak tree across the road, saw the police bagging up items of evidence. These included clothing, bedding, and several knives. Before her eyes, the police changed from languidly going through the motions to searching with real enthusiasm. She could only guess that they had found something in Vlismas’s house that had energized their search.