Glimpse

For the next few weeks, I planned my revenge. I was in no rush. He had a high profile for a while, and I had given him that fame. How ironic was that? That made it easy for me to track him down and follow him. I found out where he lived, I watched him first at his dump of an apartment, and then miraculously he moved back in with his wife and daughter, what had gone on there I could only guess at the time, but I made it my purpose to find out.

  Wearing my best disguise, I got close to her, his wife, and listened to her conversations. The bastard had been unfaithful! How could he have done that? At one time, he was my idol, but he had an affair and his wife had dumped him; my opinion of her went up into the stratosphere. But she took him back? Then, I lost respect.

  From my observations of mother and daughter, I knew the kid was a peach, no question, and I hated them both for that. How come she got to live a life with a loving mother and father when I had to suffer, day after day?

  I was in no hurry, by taking things very slowly it made the pressure build up for Rick when he didn’t make an arrest. The press was all over him, he was made to look useless, and all the time I crowed at my success.

  Slowly the plan came together in my mind. The next victim I would make about him, tell them that I was going to carve her into small bits and send each piece to Rick, so that the longer he took to stop me, the more parts she would lose. Then, I decided I would give them a witness, and then she would die horribly. Who would get the blame for that? Rick would. Oh, dear reader I had such fun while coming up with my perfect plan.

  I once saw an English horror movie; I cannot remember who was in it or what it was called. But one of the actors when asked how his plan was coming along replied that things were going ‘swimmingly.’ Well that was how things went for me: swimmingly. The abduction, the note to the cops, and then I watched from, not so far away, as they interviewed my witness. Oh, it was fun. I realized that once Rick knew I had been watching him interview the witness I gave him on a platter, he would have to take the blame for not stopping me. That would be especially true when it all came to an end and it came out in the press he had once known me, yet he hadn’t recognized me when I followed him, how wonderful would that be?

  But, then the fun stopped. Rick changed the rules of engagement, didn’t he? He insulted my intelligence.

  I had started watching the televised news conference about me, elated to see that Rick had been demoted. There was now a Detective Chief Inspector in charge. Oh, did I laugh at that? You bet I did. He had been muzzled, that much was obvious, and he looked morose and dejected the whole way through and I reveled in his misery. I thought the story of the mystery witness was rubbish, a childish hoax to try to trap me. They would need to get up far earlier in the morning to trick me.

  But then, he went and spoilt it all. Telling my adoring public that I was sick, how dare he? What’s worse; I don’t even drink beer!

  I had to be careful, after all I was smart enough to know that feelings ran high in the police department over my case. I had to be sure I would live through it all to be able to tell my story, and not get shot dead in some midnight raid when they eventually came to arrest me. I knew they had to find me eventually, that was inevitable; all the TV shows had the killer caught, after all I’d given them enough clues, so it wasn’t the capture that bothered me, quite the reverse. I wanted to be caught because only then could I be famous and in that fame, drag Rick down in the mud.

  I knew there would be a book deal, and probably a movie, not that they would let me act in it, I’d be in jail, but they would acknowledge me for all the crimes I committed. I wouldn’t be the small insignificant victim I had been all my life, I’d be up there in lights, and I couldn’t wait. Even in jail I would be a hero among the inmates, no one would dare abuse me there, not with my fame they wouldn’t.

  So, I wanted to get caught eventually. But I wanted it to be me handing myself in, not my front door kicked in, shots fired and me sprawled across my bed riddled with bullet holes, while some corrupt cop stuck a pistol in my hand to make it look like I had wanted to fight. I’d watched lots of movies and knew that often happened in life. Giving myself up was one thing, I was happy to do that, but how to do it in such a way that even that would make me look like a hero, and good old Rick look like an incompetent coward?

  And then, dear reader, it all came together; the perfect plan. I could make it all happen to my set of rules. It was a good plan, it would work. He would suffer, as my father had once threatened me with: A fate worse than death.

  Chapter 16: The Needle in the Haystack

  Loretta Starling was a local freelance journalist with dreams. She thought she was good enough to be an international correspondent, or a Sixty Minutes anchor. She had practiced, in front of her dressing table mirror over a hundred times how she would phrase her line: “I’m Loretta Starling, Sixty Minutes, Goodnight.”

  All she needed, she knew, was just one big break that would get her name up in lights, and she strived more than any other Perth reporter to find it. Unfortunately, for the four years she had been doing her job, that break had eluded her. She had been to a scene too late or missed the exclusive through all sorts of bad luck and bad timing, but she knew she was better than all the rest. One day, she was sure, her time would come, so she kept practicing her Sixty Minutes sign off, and dreamt of traveling to exotic and dangerous places where she could look down the camera lens and say her line to her adoring millions of viewers.

  True, she sold stories on a regular basis; enough to make a living, but generally they were powder puff pieces. She went to courtrooms in case anything interesting developed, sat at the airport on the off chance a Hollywood actor arrived incognito, and dreamt of stumbling across the one big break that would rocket her into journalistic heaven.

  She had spoken to the big-time reporters when she could, to beg for information as to how she could find her opportunity, but all they gave her was a load of well-meaning clap-trap about hard work and persistence. She knew that. What she wanted was the magic bullet that would take her there faster. After all, at twenty-eight years old, she wasn’t getting any younger, and she knew, that for female reporters, her looks were as important as her brains. Therefore, she had a shelf life, and every day she didn’t find her panacea was one day less she would have at the top, once she eventually made it there.

  Everyone was talking about the big murder investigation, the Body in the Suitcase, and that was now being linked to the poor woman, June Daniels, who had been abducted. A race against time, and every reporter and his brother were working it. There were never less than eight of them hanging around the front door of Police Headquarters, and for that reason, Loretta had been rather sneaky. She had followed a car through the boom gate protected car park behind the building so she could discreetly watch the rear entrance.

  She had been sitting in her car since quite early that morning and had run out of snacks, and she was bored. She knew this was what it took to be a reporter, watching and waiting, but she knew she had to give up soon and follow one of the cars out; she needed to find somewhere to pee.

  She had just told herself ten more minutes, then I’m out of here, when she saw a car arrive at the boom gate entrance. She picked up her camera, just in case, and watched the dark blue car circle around as the driver looked for a vacant space. As the car slowly made its way down her aisle, she hunkered down but just caught a glimpse of a woman sitting in the passenger seat, and she instantly remembered her.

  Loretta had been covering a murder trial about eighteen months prior, and she watched Patricia Holmes giving evidence as to the mental state of the accused. It was gritty and harrowing stuff, not at all for the faint-hearted, and Loretta had found it fascinating. So much so that she had sought out and asked for an interview with Mrs. Holmes and had been granted it.

  Though she wouldn’t talk about the specific case she had given evidence about, she did espouse on how she believed that criminal psychologists should be used in major police investigation
s on a regular basis. They could help give insights into personality traits and assist in identifying serious criminals much earlier than was currently being experienced. She believed that ‘Profiling,’ which had become big in America with the FBI, would one day catch on in Australia.

  Once Loretta saw Detective Richard McCoy get out of the driver’s side of the car, after he had parked, it all fell into place, and Loretta aimed her camera. Her telephoto lens tracked them across the car park as she took picture after picture of them. She looked through the viewfinder, clicking away, with her mind racing. She realized how glamorous the woman looked, and how Rick looked the opposite. Sure, he was dressed well enough, but his unkempt hair, stubbly beard, and jacket creased from sitting in the car reminded her of Beauty and the Beast. The headline flashed across her mind: COPS BRING IN FAMOUS PSYCHOLOGIST TO TRACK DOWN SERIAL KILLER.

  It was just at that moment Mrs. Holmes stumbled as her stiletto heel rolled over something and instinctively she reached out a hand and grabbed Rick’s arm to stop herself from falling. But, what Loretta saw, as she snapped away, was the look that passed between them as he put his arm around her lower back to help. They stared at each other, momentarily, and Loretta took a series of pictures which to her clearly indicated, that if they weren’t having sex already, they soon would be.

  She flung her car door open and dropped the camera on her seat while climbing out in one fluid motion. By the time she reached them, her hand-held recorder was on, and the would-be lovers had recovered. They had reached to the rear door where Rick was about to enter his code into the keypad.

  “Mrs. Holmes, remember me, Loretta Starling? Can I ask if you’ve been brought in to work on the abduction case with Sergeant McCoy?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” the angry cop asked while Patricia looked flustered, like a kid caught shop stealing. “This is a restricted parking area.”

  “Is using Mrs. Holmes skills to profile the killer top secret then?”

  “What on earth do you mean by that?” Rick looked around, obviously hoping to spot a uniformed cop who could evict her out of the car park. Naturally, there wasn’t one and she humorously lamented on the cliché: there’s never a cop around when you need one.

  “Well you’re sneaking her in the back entrance. I would have thought that someone of Mrs. Holmes reputation would be worth using the front door.”

  “Miss Starling, this is not the back entrance, and Mrs. Holmes is not being snuck in. You’re being melodramatic, and foolish. We have no comment to make.”

  “So, you are part of the investigation team then Mrs. Holmes?” And the look on both faces was all the confirmation she needed: she had her story.

  “Loretta, I do remember you, you interviewed me some time back, and you did a very good and thoughtful piece on me for the Sunday Supplement. Please don’t print my involvement here, you could do irreparable damage,” Patricia replied.

  “Damage to who? I’d have thought you being brought in was your dream job. It’s in the public’s interest to know that the police are so desperate for a lead they would bring in a psychologist.” Loretta loved the way she sounded, if only this were being videotaped, I’d be a super star.

  “Please listen, Loretta. The police are working on several lines of inquiry, but the person they are looking for is extremely dangerous and unpredictable. If you print my involvement, it could make him very angry, and he might react. I’m just here as a volunteer advisor, that’s all. I’m not being paid, and it’s not my job. My husband and I are friends with the assistant commissioner and he thought I might be able to offer some advice. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, and it could do real harm if you print.”

  “Miss Starling,” Rick interrupted, “you know I cannot comment on operational matters, but it’s vital Mrs. Holmes assistance remains out of the public’s domain, for now. How about if I give you my word that when the time is right, I will give you the story, so long as you don’t go public right now?”

  Loretta nodded, sure you will, you must think I’m dumb if I’d fall for that one. She tried to look thoughtful, as if she were seriously contemplating not divulging what clearly was the biggest potential story of her career; one that could finally launch her toward her dream. “So, just for clarity’s sake, you are asking me to bury your involvement Mrs. Holmes because you think this nutcase, might do something even more manic because he would think that you think he is insane?”

  “Loretta,” Patricia pleaded, “we are dealing with an extremely troubled personality. It’s impossible to predict how he will react to your story. I urge you, please don’t risk anyone else’s health and safety until after he’s caught. Then, if you want you can have an exclusive with me, and I will tell you anything you want to know about him.”

  “But what if you don’t catch him anytime soon? And another reporter finds out about you?”

  “We are more concerned with the victim he is holding hostage. Your story could tip him over the edge, and he kills her. Is one story worth that? Give us a few days to follow the leads we have, that’s all we ask.”

  “So, in your professional opinion this man is that dangerous.”

  “He is that dangerous.”

  ****

  “Pat this is Detective Chief Inspector Colin Harris, Boss, this is Patricia Holmes.”

  He stood up and reached his arm out to her across his cluttered desk. “Mrs. Holmes, I want to thank you for helping us out like this. Please have a seat. I’ve organized an office for you both to use and have had the three complete case files with witness statements delivered so they are waiting for you. I’d love to hear your thoughts as to why you think this is our man. Tyler is across at the West Australian Newspapers office checking out those letters to the editor.”

  “Before we get into that, Boss, I’ve got to tell you a reporter recognized Pat in the car park and buttonholed us. I think we may have convinced her not to go public, but I’m not so sure. The shit may well hit the fan if she goes to print.”

  “Fuck! Sorry Pat I hope the odd cuss word doesn’t offend you.”

  She smiled, “I’ve heard the word before. The situation can’t be helped now. I’m all for buckling down and getting to work and try to find him quickly.”

  “True, what’s done is done. I suppose it had to come out sooner or later. If you would though, just so I can get my head around all of this, please give me a quick run through of your thinking. Rick here has been singing your praises, since he met you, but why do these three case files stand out?”

  She sat and crossed one leg over the other and gave him a summary of her thoughts. Rick and Colin sat silently, digesting what Patricia outlined. Rick had heard it all before, but this was the first time that the Inspector had met her, and he watched his bosses face to try to get an insight of his thoughts.

  Colin Harris cleared his throat. “Pat, that all sounds feasible, I agree, you make a very plausible, but highly circumstantial case.

  “Well, that’s what I do. Let’s be honest, you wouldn’t need me if he had been anything less than he is; you would have caught him. I could be wrong about one, or more, of those three cases being attributable to him, that’s true. There is only one way to find out. If I’m right he knew the first two victims, and by cross-referencing the witnesses I hope to find him. I also think he couldn’t resist the urge to have been a witness at Lake Monger. To be fair I’m less sure of that, but it fits with what I consider to be his profile. Then, the engineered leak would have thrown him off his kilter, he may fear you are closing in sooner than he would have liked, this could go one of several ways.”

  “And if this reporter does publicize that you’ve been brought in as an advisor? What will that make him do?”

  “Hmm, that’s not so easy to answer. But in my opinion, he is a true narcissist. He craves recognition, and he demanded you acknowledge him in a press conference because he needed to feel like you all agree he is the best there has ever been. Rick said a couple of thi
ngs which on top of this man’s sense of malice he holds against him, will have angered him. But, if he hears you all believe he isn’t superior at all, that he is mad, then I worry what he will do, what retribution he will take. Today was unfortunate and I just hope this Loretta Starling agrees to keep the story to herself, at least for a few days.”

  “Let’s hope so. I will try to talk to her myself, who does she work for? Maybe I can bring some pressure to bear.”

  Pat shook her head slowly, “When she interviewed me, she was freelance. If she doesn’t agree to hold off for her own reasons, she will sell to the highest bidder.”

  “I see. Look, every other lead we have is petering into nothing, everywhere we look it’s one dead end after another. So, right now I’m hoping you are right and you can give us something to work with. I’m afraid that in terms of witness statements not much would have been computerized unless something unusual was noted, and I’m guessing from what you’ve said he probably didn’t stand out from the crowd. I’ve sent word out to the original lead detectives to be prepared to be interviewed by you both. I’ve asked that they have their notebooks ready, just in case they noted something which at the time wasn’t deemed important enough to put into the record. If you require anything else, you only have to ask.”

  Rick stood up and opened the office door for Pat. She nodded toward the DCI who returned the gesture, then picked up the type written sheets she had prepared as a profile and began to read.

  ****

  Three hours later they had jointly worked their way through the reports, scene of crime pictures, and witness statements covering the murder of Gordon Bridges. They had read the interviews of his wife and family members, work colleagues, friends, and those who were suspected of being homosexual lovers from an address book found hidden in the back of his desk at his place of work. They had studied the forensic report of the car, and noted the unidentified gloved fingerprints taken from it. There were numerous statements taken from known sexual offenders.