Glimpse

  “Nowhere sir, we’re about halfway through, but so far nothing,” Clive Peppercorn offered.

  “What’s the latest from forensics? And that photo, did we get it enhanced?”

  “Nothing new from both, boss,” Sergeant Brighton answered.

  “As I said earlier, you guys are bringing me nothing. I want a full team to go to Midland Post office, question everyone, he must have mailed the parcel yesterday, someone would have seen him. Being Midland Shopping precinct there could be CCTV. He may be disguised but we know he is of slight build. Tyler, I want you at forensics, push them for quick results on the parcel, the hand, the lunch box, give me something. I am going to see June Daniels husband, and deliver the news. Pat, and Rick find PPP for us. Let’s go.”

  ****

  It was well past lunch time when Rick and Pat had finished reading the last piece of paper in the box containing the evidence for Carly Biddle’s murder. He was stiff and sore from sitting for too long, and while he didn’t want to admit it, bored. “Fancy a sandwich or something from the canteen for lunch?” Rick asked.

  Pat nodded, looking distant and deep in thought.

  The café on the top floor wasn’t overly busy and they got a table by the windows, Pat selected a salmon salad plate and Rick took a beef casserole with vegetables. They agreed to phone Detective Barlow, who had run the investigation, straight after lunch, who, Rick had discovered, had transferred to run the CID Department at the Kalgoorlie Station. Being five hundred kilometers away it was too far to drive for an interview.

  “What’s your first thoughts, Rick?” Pat asked as she took a bite of her salmon with lettuce strands forked up against it.

  “A good solid investigation. I can’t see too much they did wrong. It looked like it might have been the ex-boyfriend for a while there, until that played out.”

  “I agree. I can’t see that they did anything wrong or missed any connection. The fact that she was killed on her way home from work, suggests the killer fixated on her there. Unfortunately, it’s a big shopping center, so there’s not just the supermarket she worked at, it could be someone who works at one of the other shops and he saw her from afar. Come to that he may not work there at all; he could have just seen her while he was at the bank, or post office, and she was on her lunch break. He could have stalked her from that point on. It kind of has that feel, that he watched her, stalked her, and that night she rejected him.”

  “We could go there and re-interview all that we can, but, of course there is no guarantee PPP still works there after all this time, if he ever did.”

  “I think he may, Rick. He would tend to be a creature of habit. He would like order and the stability of repetitiveness in his life, it would give him comfort. But with over three hundred witness statements, not one of which matches up with Gordon Bridges case, that would take a lot of time.”

  “But surely we could narrow that list down. For example, we could ignore all the women, and married men. You said that PPP would be single and incapable of a normal relationship.”

  “True. Although that said, there is a slim possibility he could be married. Peter Sutcliff, the Yorkshire Ripper was, and his wife never suspected a thing. I don’t think that’s the situation here, but it’s possible. But, even so, that still leaves a lot of potentials. And remember, this man will be difficult to detect by talking to him. And, in doing so, we will alert him that we are closing in. No, without Bridges client list to compare against, I think we should go through the Lake Monger case files and see if we can spot him there. I think he would have made sure he was interviewed at some point. If we get a double up of names, then we can move quickly without warning. Rick, you have realized I’m sure, that the parcel was sent from the Midland Post Office, which is the same shopping center Carly Biddle worked?”

  He nodded. “I wondered when you would mention that.” He smiled. “I also realize that because we police tend to believe there is no such thing as coincidence, it does also offer proof that your theory is correct. I’m sure we will also find a shop there that sells the type of lunch box that the hand came in. Yes, he knows this shopping center very well. I bet there are two or three places that sell suitcases too. Is it also a coincidence the dump he used is Midland? I think not.”

  “Even though we don’t have anything concrete, I feel we are closing in, albeit slowly.”

  Well, when we get back we will phone Jack Barlow, and see if anyone stuck out in his mind, but not enough for him to put in the statements. Meanwhile I will have the DCI put someone onto looking there for lunch boxes and suitcases, not that I think that will throw up a suspect, but it couldn’t hurt; you never know.”

  When they got back to the station, Rick placed the call but was informed that Detective Inspector Sam Barlow was out of the station but should be back around two thirty. Rick left his extension number and asked for the call to be returned, and that it regarded an old case of his that had been re-opened. While they waited, they opened one box each of the Lake Monger Murders evidence and started reading.

  “Rick.” Pat glanced up after a while. “I didn’t make the connection before, but these two bodies were hung upside down and had their throats cut after death. Didn’t you tell me the Medical Examiner thought that the body in the suitcase had been hung upside down before death?”

  “Yes, he thought that by the ligature marks and blood lividity. Oh, I see what you mean; yes, it’s a signature, isn’t it? Why didn’t I realize that before?”

  “It’s easily missed if you didn’t work on the case.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It was true, this had never been his case, and other than water cooler chat, he had no information prior about the investigation.

  “Why hang them upside down, do you think?”

  “I really don’t know. It can’t be for the sex angle; it must be something else. I suppose it makes less mess, from a practical point of view. You realize, of course, he used a pulley and winch to hoist them up in the tree. More proof of his small stature.”

  “Hmmm, I suppose, but then again a cut artery sprays blood a long way. No, I don’t think it’s that. I could understand in the case of cutting Melanie’s body up, it would make it easier, but in the Lake killings, they weren’t dismembered. The supply of rope and winch, as usual, turned into a blind alley. Common rope bought from Bunnings and the winches were old and rusty. Could have been in the killers shed for years.”

  In that moment, he almost had it. On the peripheral of his consciences he thought of an abattoir, with carcasses swinging upside down on a conveyor chain across the ceiling. But before he could make the leap, the phone rang. “McCoy.”

  “Detective Inspector Barlow, returning your call, Sergeant.”

  He sat up straight, instinctively, as if he were sitting in front of a superior officer, rather than speaking on the phone. “Thank you for ringing back sir, I appreciate it very much. It’s regarding the Carly Biddle case. It’s been re-opened because of a connection with a recent murder and abduction, and we think there is a very good chance that it’s the same perp. I’m going to put you on hands free mode, Sir, if you don’t mind so my partner, Patricia Holmes can listen in.” He pressed the speaker button.

  “Yes, I’m aware of the background; your DCI called and said you would be in touch. I remember the case, and I did glance through my notebook from that time, but I didn’t spot anything that will be helpful. The fact is that it was one of the most frustrating jobs I’ve ever worked on. We walked in, thinking it would be a simple one to solve, but it just went nowhere.”

  “What made you think it would be an easy crime to solve, sir, what was your first instinct?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “She was single, lived with her sister; both parents were overseas traveling at that time. She was mousey and not prone to going out at night partying. She hadn’t had a steady boyfriend for a while, and the last one she did have was in a happy relationship with her replacement. At first, we thought it was him, because
he had no alibi that would take scrutiny, but there was no motive. Our next thought was that it was something to do with her job, that she had been bullied, or had had an argument with someone there. He, or she, followed her home until she got to where she was killed; it was a quiet street, mainly high fences at that spot, and she was murdered under a huge willow tree. So, we interviewed everyone at work, and like most work places everyone thought it might be someone else, but really, when we interviewed each of them we couldn’t find a suspect. In fact, the more of her colleagues we spoke to, the more unlikely it seemed that it was someone from there.”

  “Why was that sir?”

  “Just that everyone checked out. There was the usual bunch of assorted people who work in the same place. Some were likeable, others were horrible, but true to say most of them liked the victim. There was no hint from anyone that there was an issue between her and any of her colleagues. She was good at her job, and doing payroll, she was everyone’s friend on pay day.”

  “I see, please go on, sir.” Rick glanced at Pat, who looked to be listening with rapt attention.”

  “We talked to everyone else at the shopping center, asked if they had noticed someone hanging around, or who had been watching her, but no one had. It was a dead end every which way we turned.”

  “Did you get an indication from any of the witnesses that something, anything, wasn’t, quite right? Just a feeling? We know our guy would have enjoyed being interviewed. We also know he is of slight build.”

  “Look, Sergeant, all of the young blokes that worked in the shopping center had chips on their shoulders, like the world owed them a living, you know the type. The middle-aged ones seemed normal, and again, no one stood out that I can recall. It was also a long time ago. We thought we might find a suspect by telling them that we had found a DNA sample on the body when we took theirs, But, no one refused to give a sample, or even batted an eyelid. If one of them was the killer, they would be the best liar I’ve ever come across.”

  “You took DNA samples from all of them? The results are not in the file.”

  “No, well they wouldn’t be. We didn’t get them tested, it was just a bluff to see if anyone got antsy. It would have been expensive to test that many samples, and we didn’t have the budget. If we could have narrowed it down to one or two prime suspects, fine, but then again, you must understand there was no sample that had been left on the body, so we had nothing to compare it to. It was a bluff to see if someone cracked.”

  “Yes, I see sir. Would the samples still be with the forensics department, or, would they have been disposed of at the time?”

  “Do you have something to match it to now?”

  “Yes, we have lots of traces.”

  “Well, you’d have to check. So far as I know they were never destroyed, but then again, after all this time, they may well have been by now.”

  “So, sir, going back to the investigation, your best guess at the time was a random sexually based attack?”

  “Not personally, no. I always felt it was more personal than that. But when the case went cold, and we had no suspect, the powers that be overruled me, and I can’t blame them for that. I always had the feeling that the fact she had been stabbed, and then her dress opened after death, was suggestive of a more personal attacker, but, there was nothing to prove that that was the case. The DI was of the belief that sooner or later he would strike again, but he never did, not so far as I knew.”

  “Sir, I’d like to thank you for your time, it’s been very helpful, especially if we can locate those DNA samples.”

  “Good luck with that. Tell me, what makes you think it’s the same man killed Carly Biddle, and your woman in the suitcase? I’m intrigued how you linked them.”

  “It was Assistant Commissioner Monkton’s idea that because of the bizarre nature of the two murders and an abduction we are investigating, we bring in a very well credentialed psychologist to consult: Mrs. Patricia Holmes. She and I have been trawling old case files.”

  “I see. Monkton has always been a bit of a radical. Mrs. Holmes, thank you for not jumping in with questions, unannounced, I would be happy to answer any you may have of me now. It always bothered me that I hadn’t done enough for Carly, I’d like to help in any way I can.”

  Pat blanched and glanced toward Rick. She cleared her throat and leaned toward the phone so the microphone would pick up her voice. “Thank you, Inspector, I must say it’s wonderful to be included in such an important investigation, I just hope we can find June Daniels alive. Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, I’d like to know what your instincts told you about any of the witnesses you talked to. Our man would have been young, probably around early twenties I would guess. He is small and thin, possibly almost effeminate. He would have acted incredibly smart, almost condescendingly to you as well as being very quick thinking. Of course, he would have expected to be questioned, and would have been prepared for it. Knowing that, could you cast your mind back to everyone you spoke to and tell us if anyone at all stands out in your mind?”

  “Hmm. Bloody hell, you don’t want much, do you? Do you know how many people we questioned who could fit that description?”

  “I was just hoping that because of his feeling and acting superior to you, that in itself may have made you take note at the time and remember him now. But, it was quite a long time ago, and you’ve interviewed a lot of other suspects since, I do understand that.”

  “Look, let me sleep on this, I will wrack my brain, you have my word on that, and I will phone you tomorrow if I come up with anything.

  She called her number out to him and they said their goodbyes. Once the phone was hung up, Rick turned to her.

  “Can you make a start on the boxes, while I go and see the DCI and see if we can find those DNA samples, it could identify PPP if we can.” He held up his hand to silence her. “I know what you’re going to say, even if we do find them it will take days to get a match, but I’m hoping they can at least give us a blood type from them; we know PPP’s.”

  She shook her head, “Rick, I’m sorry to rain on your parade, but detecting a blood type from a saliva test is theoretically possible, but by no means definitive. It would take more testing not less, and the result you end up with would not be foolproof. I daresay it would also be expensive. The only way to tell a blood type is from testing blood itself, or semen. I do believe you should find the samples and test them, it will certainly help convict PPP when we catch him, though I doubt you will have the answers in time to save June Daniels.”

  He nodded. DNA tests were expensive, and slow. Determining a blood type from saliva would not be easy, he was clutching at straws, he knew that, but he just knew they were getting close. “You’re right, Pat. I will go and report it to the DCI, let him get the ball rolling and see if they still exist. I will be back in a minute.”

  Ten minutes later he returned and sat back down in front of the open box. Pat looked up, and he shrugged. “He’s sending Tyler over there to see if they can be tracked down.”

  At that moment, his phone rang and he fumbled in his jacket pocket to pull it out. Once in his hand he pulled the aerial out with his teeth and barked his usual answer into it: “McCoy.”

  “Rick, it’s me. I’m at Amy’s school, did you finish work early and pick her up? Oh, God, please say you did.” Juliet’s voice sounded frantic; nearing hysteria.

  “No, Jules, I’m at work. What’s happened?” he replied instinctively standing up from his chair.

  “Amy, she’s been picked up by someone else, she gone, Rick, she’s gone, she been taken.”

  Chapter 18: My Memoir Entry - Ducks All in A Row

  Granted, dear reader, the day didn’t start well; the stupid woman died on me!

  I suppose the shock of losing her hand was too much for her, and yes, I guess I should take the blame for that. But, once I had the thought about lending them a hand to catch me, well, it was irresistible, surely you can see that? I cauterized it well enough so she didn�
�t lose too much blood, I mean; it was bloody inconsiderate of her.

  She could have lived; I was willing to let her. If the cops had caught me and she was still alive; albeit missing a couple of bits and pieces, I would have let her go back to her family.

  I thought I had been careful enough I had wanted to send them her leg next, and I couldn’t very well do that after I found her hanging by her one good wrist, lifeless in the cool room. The police may well be stupid, but the medical examiners they use are not. They would be able to tell that the leg had been removed after death.

  After I ranted and railed against the damned woman for a bit, I calmed down and realized it was probably for the best. To be frank I was tiring of the whole thing. What had seemed like a brilliant plan had become boring. I mean I didn’t even have sex with her because I wanted to keep her alive as long as possible, and I thought forcing her to have sex might demoralize her further. Then there was the feeding and cleaning up the waste. It wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.

  So, realistically, her dying, once I had become accustomed to the idea, wasn’t all that bad. She had served her purpose; they had sat up and taken notice, and finally acknowledged that I was a superstar. So, it was only fit and proper that I moved on to phase two.

  While I was disposing of her corpse, cut into nice neat pieces, into the back freezer, I decided I would just move everything else forward, and I smiled at the thought. Detective Sergeant Richard McCoy; he was the real enemy. And, when I had completed that task, it would be time to hand myself in and find the fame I so richly deserved. I knew in my heart that this scrapbook you are reading, would go on and become a best seller, it had to. So, I had to make sure I was alive to publicize it through a high-profile trial.

  While I set about my tasks I turned the radio on and picked up the news bulletin, which was live from Police Headquarters. I raced back through to the house and switched on the TV. Half of me was delighted when I realized the police on screen were talking about me, but what the hell? They had brought in a psychologist? Did they think I was deranged? How dare they discount my superior intellect, strategy, and planning ability as the work of a madman? I listened in stunned silence, the damned woman was working with Rick, and they told the reporter I had ‘an extremely troubled, narcissistic personality?’