Glimpse

  “Rick,” Pat began, “is it me, or does it seem to you like the investigation from the very beginning centered around looking for a gay hate killer?”

  He stared back at her, experiencing mixed feelings about the investigation. On the one hand, they were his colleagues, and he was naturally biased to protecting them from undue criticism. But, deep down, he had to agree with her assessment.

  Her hair was mussed up on her left-hand side where she had a habit of resting her hand while she read. She had also undone the top button of her shirt and every now and again, as she moved, he caught the faintest glimpse of her beige colored bra strap; a sight which he found remarkably exciting.

  “Pat, I know what you are saying, but I have to say, from what I’m reading here, I probably would have come to the same conclusion. None of the fingerprints taken match our man.”

  She sat back in her not too comfortable chair, tilted her head to one side, and as if by magic, the right-hand side of her shirt ballooned out. He could clearly see the bra strap reaching down toward the cup. If she just leaned forward a bit, and the blouse stayed sticking out he would be able to see the top of that cup. Like a schoolboy, he yearned to see more.

  Fuck, I must stop thinking this stuff,

  “I know what you’re thinking, Rick.” She stared pointedly, and Rick squirmed.

  “You want to be loyal to them because they are fellow officers. But, one thing I think I know about you is that you would not have jumped to that conclusion. You would have exhausted all avenues before you made a judgement call. I realize the prints don’t match, but that just proves he didn’t want them taken. He would have worn gloves. There is one group of people who have not been interviewed, and I’m quite sure you would have attempted that.”

  Rick bowed his head, feeling a sense of relief that he had not been caught out as a pervert. “What group is that, Pat?”

  She didn’t reply. Slowly the realization dawned on him. “Jesus, you’re right. He was a Public Trustee; what about the families and inheritors of the estates he managed?”

  “Tunnel vision. It looked like a hate crime, so that’s the type of killer they looked for. Now, that would have been fine if he had been murdered by that sort of person, but I don’t believe he was.”

  “Fuck, we’re going to need a court order after all this time to get those records, that’s always assuming we can get a judge to agree to giving us one. Damn, they should have at least looked at them; you’re right, Pat.”

  “Here’s what I think. Let’s consider the timing of this. If I’m right our murderer was a young man back, then. What if my earlier thoughts were correct; that he had been in care or adopted, and while he was underage, his affairs had been managed by Gordon Bridges?”

  ****

  “Mauri, long time no see,” Rick began as they shook hands, “this is Patricia Holmes, a consultant who is helping us out with the June Daniels abduction case. We’d like to talk to you about the Gordon Bridges unsolved murder you worked on.”

  They had driven south to the Rockingham Police Station where the detective now worked.

  “Yeah, I know, your DI was on the phone this morning warning me about it. Why is it so important now after all this time?” He sat back down behind his desk. He had the look of a cop approaching retirement, his once white shirt was grubby, and stretched taught across his expanding belly. If he had started the day wearing a tie, it had long since been discarded, and he looked long overdue for a haircut.

  “We feel there is a strong possibility our guy was your killer, and we are chasing up background information.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Why do you say that, Mauri?”

  “Like everyone I’ve been following the suitcase murder and have heard on the grapevine about the developments with the abducted woman and the threat to send you parts of her body. No way it’s the same guy.”

  “Again, why do you say that?”

  “The park was a known haunt for car sex between couples, and the public toilets was a ‘beat’ that had a reputation as a place for men to meet to give each other blow jobs. There was a glory hole in the cubicle door for Christ’s sake. Bridges obviously propositioned the wrong guy who went nutso and killed him. It was a dead end from the start. We door knocked the area, even set up an undercover cop over a few nights to hang out at the toilet so we could interview the queers who met there, to see if any of them had come across anyone acting weird, but like I said, the case went nowhere.”

  “Sergeant, do you mind if I ask you something?” Pat asked

  “Sure, shoot.”

  “Did you ever consider it was anything other than a gay sex meeting that went wrong? Was Bridges a regular visitor to the park?”

  “We couldn’t prove he was a regular there, but we do know he had sex with other men, he was a fag. We looked at his acquaintances, family, and wife; she knew he was bisexual and put up with it for the kid’s sake. Darlin,’ if something walks, sounds, and looks like a duck; it generally is.”

  “And, did you ever consider it was one of the clients he had.”

  “Nah, why would it be? Besides even if it was, there was no way to get those records from the Trustee’s office without a Court Order, and there was no evidence to support asking for one. It would have been a waste of time.”

  “Okay, Mauri, thanks for your time, I appreciate it.” Rick stood and offered his hand to shake.

  “Are you guys saying I fucked up here? That I should have looked deeper?”

  “Sergeant,” Pat answered. “Right now, we have no evidence, that’s what we are looking for. But we think there is a very real possibility it’s one and the same killer. That as a young man he was a client of Gordon Bridges, and for whatever reason, he lured him to the park with the intention of killing him. But I suppose at the time, you did the best you could, there is no suggestion you did anything wrong.”

  He looked crestfallen, and Rick grudgingly changed his opinion of the man “Mauri, it’s a theory at this point, we have our reasons for thinking that’s what happened, but I agree with Pat, there is no suggestion of any wrong doing on your part. It would have been nice if you’d looked at his client list, but I can understand why you didn’t.”

  They stayed mostly silent in the car heading back down the freeway to the city, each lost in their own thoughts. The traffic was quite heavy, and it was after six when Rick pulled into her driveway.

  She turned in her seat so she partly faced him, in doing so she lifted one leg under the other which caused her skirt to ride up her thighs, and the shirt ballooned out again. This time, she was leaned slightly forward and the bone colored bra cup came into view. Fuck, she is one hot woman.

  “I’m beginning to respect what you guys do, day after day, Rick. I started out today with high hopes, that we would make inroads into this case, but we are no further advanced than when we started. It’s disappointing, isn’t it?”

  “Police work is sometimes about the mundane. Asking questions repeatedly, and sometimes you’re right, for all the work, nothing breaks. I spent weeks on the suitcase murder, full time, and realistically got nowhere. I wish cases were solved quickly, believe me, but you must be in this for the long haul, and know that in the end you made a difference. Tomorrow things could break, and what looks impossible tonight, might become clear in the morning. This is what we do.”

  “Tom is out at a Rotary Club dinner, do you feel like a glass of wine, or a beer before you go home?” She smiled and tilted her head to one side.

  To Rick, the invitation was clear, sitting as she was, with the look of hope, and what looked like need, in her eye. Half of him was pleasantly surprised, and the other half was screaming at him to say no.

  He slowly shook his head. “Pat, I’d like nothing more than to continue this inside, and have a drink with you. But if I leave right now, I should be able to get home in time to read my little girl a bedtime story, and that, when I can make it, is the highlight of my day. Another time, maybe?”


  “Rain check sounds good. She turned back to open the door, still leaning slightly forward, and the gap in her shirt exposed the entire bra covered breast to his gaze. He almost wavered.

  Driving away he was torn. He wanted to turn around and go back.

  Richard Bryan McCoy, you are a fuckwit. Remember back, just a few months ago, living alone, in that dreadful apartment, pining for Juliet and Amy? Now grow up, keep your dick in your pants. Go home and hug your daughter.

  He realized he was driving ten kilometers over the speed limit. Tomorrow was another day, he realized, as he eased off the accelerator.

  Chapter 17: The Day the Sky Fell In

  Rick and Patricia arrived at the squad room just after eight in the morning, right after the mail had been delivered. That was when the nightmare began.

  “Rick, Patricia, get in here now!” Colin Harris’s voice boomed across the incident room. They glanced at each other and hurried over.

  “What’s up Boss?”

  Sitting on the middle of his desk was a parcel wrapped in brown paper. It measured around twenty centimeters long, ten wide and seven or so high. In black permanent ink was Rick’s name and the address of the police department.

  “Fuck no, don’t tell me.” Rick gasped and sat down.

  I was about to open it, but as you’re here, and it’s addressed to you…” The DI tossed him a pair of latex gloves. “Not that there is a lot of point, everyone in the postal service has touched the outside, still, forensics may get something from inside. They are on their way, I just got off the phone with them.”

  Pat stood by the door, hand over her mouth, horrified. Slowly Rick pulled on the gloves. He gently picked up the box and turned it upside down to get to the edges that had been sealed with clear sealing tape. He peeled it back with his thumbnail wary that there could be fingerprints on the sticky side. As he pulled the brown wrapping paper away, a single sheet fell out, and the three of them leaned over to read it.

  Dear Rick

  I thought you might need a hand to catch me.

  You want to chat with me over a beer, do you? You had your chance, and you don’t get a second. We will meet one day, but it won’t be over a beer. Will you be ready for me?

  Are we having fun yet?

  PPP

  Inside the paper was a purple plastic lunch box, with a pink lid. The type a child might take to school. Rick looked up at Colin, who nodded back. Gently but firmly he grasped the tab on the corner and peeled it open.

  “Oh my God!” Pat gasped and turned away, her hand firmly clamped over her mouth. There nestled inside the box lay a human hand, the left one, which had the wedding ring finger missing.

  ****

  Thirty minutes later the squad was assembled for the inevitable meeting. Four people stood at the front of the room, before the white board: Assistant Commissioner Monkton, Patricia Holmes, Rick, and Detective Inspector Colin Harris. In central position was displayed a large photocopy of the note they had read earlier. There was the usual hubbub of noise between officers until the loud, angry voice of the DI quietened them.

  “Right, shut up everyone, there is no time for chit chat. We have received another piece of our unfortunate victim; her left hand to be precise. If she is still alive we must acknowledge she has very little time left now and I want everyone to give her a hundred percent effort to try to save her life before it’s too late. Are we clear on this?”

  Every police officer signaled their agreement.

  “I was here most of last night, going over your reports and witness statements, and quite frankly, so far you lot have brought me nothing we can use. We are no closer to nailing this bastard through normal police procedures than we were a week ago. From this moment on I want you all to act think and feel as if June Daniels was your wife, mother, or sister, we need to get serious and find her, are we clear on that?”

  “Mrs. Patricia Holmes is with us; she is helping us understand what kind of person we are dealing with. She has made considerable inroads, so far and has come up with some good theories, and I want her to tell you all what kind of man we are dealing with.”

  “Sir, as from this morning’s paper, the whole world knows we have brought in a psychologist. I picked this up on the way in.” Detective Joel Crittenden held up that morning’s West Australian. The headline screamed: POLICE BRING IN TOP PSYCHOLOGIST TO HUNT DOWN ‘EXTREMELY DANGEROUS’ KILLER.

  Rick and Pat both groaned at the same time, they had not had a chance to see the newspaper, and it was the kind of headline they had been dreading.

  “Right, well we knew this would happen eventually, but with June Daniels losing her hand, the medical examiner worries that the blood loss and shock she must have suffered means that she could die sooner rather than later, if she is not dead already. Pat, would you please give the squad the kind of summary you gave me yesterday.”

  As if rehearsed, the three men took a step away, leaving Pat standing alone, like a deer caught in the headlights, and she nervously began her summary.

  “Thank you, Detective Chief Inspector. Let me start by saying that what I do does not in any way undermine the job you perform. I have the utmost respect for dedicated police officers who do this work. Anything I can do to help is just that; help. Please think of it this way: you might look at a crime scene and search for clues and evidence. I look at the same scene and ask why that way, what was he, or she, thinking. What was their frame of mind, and what led a person to the point where they took that action? By reading hundreds of case files, and studying the mental states of serial killers over the years, places like the Profiling Department of the FBI have made great strides into understanding that word: why. And if we extrapolate that further, if we can understand the why, then sometimes that can help lead us to who. I hope I’ve explained that well enough.

  “I was asked to look at the suitcase murder, and the June Daniels abduction, and I have drawn several conclusions from them. Our man then went on to murder Bridget Schaeffer in such a way that it gave more insights into his mindset. I’ve also looked at past case files to look for what I call his footprints in the sand, that he left before he became what he is today. I believe we have found three such cases, though let me stress I believe there were more, but the bodies were never found, because PPP didn’t want them found.”

  She went on to explain her theories in detail, then paused. “If you corner him he will do one of three things, kill you, himself, or surrender. I think PPP wants to give himself up to become famous. But, he is not quite ready yet. He has some master plan that he has worked on for a long time, and I worry what that plan will be.”

  “Yesterday, Rick and I combed through the full case file and witness statements for the murder investigation of a Public Trustee from a few years ago, by the name of Gordon Bridges. I believe this was our killer’s first victim. Unfortunately, the investigating officer, who I think is a good man, and I mean no reflection on his abilities, jumped to a wrong conclusion.”

  Some of the officers appeared to fidget nervously. “I’m not here to criticize anyone, he saw the case from a certain perspective, one which a lot of policemen might also have made. Unfortunately, he did not consider Bridges’ work clients were suspects, and I feel it was there that our man could have been found. I hope a court order is granted so we can see who his clients were.”

  “We hope to get that today; we have the Public Prosecutor’s Office working on it for us,” Colin interjected.

  She nodded her appreciation then carried on. “Today Rick and I are looking at what I believe was PPP’s second murder, and then, the third and fourth. Some of you know about those, they occurred at Lake Monger.”

  There was a very sudden outburst by a detective she didn’t know. “So you are saying PPP was the Lake Monger Murderer?”

  “Yes, I believe he was. That was the beginning of his phase where he wanted fame, he wanted that recognition, adulation even, he so desperately craves. It was there, where he honed his sk
ills and it became a precursor to the Body in the Suitcase.” She nodded her head to add emphasis, then explained why she thought what she did, and explained about the letters to the editor, linking the earlier killing.

  “For me there are two very scary things in the latest note. Firstly, it’s a repetition of an early question: are we having fun yet? And secondly, it’s the attempt at humor in offering Rick a hand to catch him. More than anything else, these two things show me that we are dealing with a true sociopath. Genuine sociopaths are rare. They do not experience guilt or remorse, no feelings at all. You can’t plead with him, he doesn’t understand mercy, you can’t threaten him, he doesn’t feel fear, or worry about consequences. You can’t hurt him, either; he has been hurt all his life.”

  “All right, thanks Patricia,” Colin Harris said. “Now, Tyler, tell us what happened with the West over these letters.”

  “I’ve got print outs for them all, and they do make for interesting reading, sir. At first, I thought they were just the ravings of some self-righteous do-gooder, but then they got quite weird. And if I didn’t know Mrs. Holmes explanation I would have wondered why suddenly he started talking about other possible victims killed by the same murderer, including Carly Biddle. The clincher is how he signed the letters, I’m sorry to say it was PPP. Naturally they didn’t keep envelopes, there is no way to trace where they came from, especially after all this time. They didn’t even have the originals.”

  “Is there anything he says which gives away who he is, what he does, where he lives?”

  “Nothing that I could see, sir, nothing obvious anyway. Perhaps Mrs. Holmes can spot something.”

  “Please guys, call me Pat. I’m not into all this Mrs. Holmes stuff. Yes, I’d like to read them; it proves he murdered Carly Biddle, and by association, it also proves he was the Lake Monger Murderer, as I suspected. If we could only get the client list of Gordon Bridges to cross reference, I’m sure we will spot him.”

  “We will find out about the Court order today, I will push harder. Where are we at with re-visiting, the previous witnesses?”