by Graham Smith
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force myself to observe every detail I can.
The only thing holding him in position is his obese frame. Even sliced open, there’s enough gut to support the rest of his body.
Lifting my eyes, I examine the stump of his neck. The bizarre hinging effect of the remaining skin is unsettling. I can see the severed remains of his spine, throat and arteries. A cloud of flies is already swarming around his head and it’s only a matter of time before other insects and animals become attracted to this unexpected buffet.
I’m unsure what to do next. I need to keep Harriet and her folks close so the rounding up of her family can start as soon as possible. I also have to make sure nobody tramples over the crime scene.
Then there’s the question of where Steve is. He could be lying dead somewhere close by or he could be in pursuit of the killer.
Plus, there’s a possible chance one of the other visitors to the reserve has seen something which could help identify the killer.
Staying on the stump chair, I pull out my cell and call the chief to break the news and seek guidance.
He doesn’t answer so I leave a message demanding he call me at once.
Harriet and her mother are being guided back towards the entrance by Olly. The move is understandable. I don’t want to be here, and I’m an adult who was expecting to find something grisly.
Jumping down, I run after them, circling round so they can all see me.
I give Olly a sideways nod. ‘Can we talk?’
He’s on the ball and understands the females in his family shouldn’t hear what I’m about to say.
‘Harriet sweetie, Daddy needs to talk with this man for a minute.’ He points to a small pool twenty yards away. ‘We’re gonna be just over there where you can see me the whole time, okay.’
There’s a sniffling nod before she buries her tear-streaked face back into the mother’s neck.
I follow him towards the pool.
‘Let’s be quick about this. I need to get her home.’
I’ve never had to break any kind of bad news before so I’m unsure of the best way to do it. Guessing it boils down to the same theory as the removal of a sticking plaster, I opt for the quick method.
‘Your daughter has just found the latest victim of a serial killer.’ My soft tone so as not to be overheard is at contrast with the hard news it delivers.
His eyes widen in disbelief and fear. ‘You mean the guy who is targeting family members of the people who find the bodies?’
Damn that Ms Rosenberg for her publicising of the killer’s selection method.
‘Yes.’ I seize the moment and use his fear to my advantage. I don’t like doing such things but sometimes it’s better to save lives than feelings. ‘You need to tell your wife and daughter and then get every member of your family who lives in or near Casperton to report to the police station as soon as humanly possible.’
‘I’ll tell them and then we’ll go and start getting the family together.’
‘No. You need to stay here where I can protect you. Call your family. Anyone who doesn’t answer will be rounded up by the police.’
Fear overtakes his features. The hand lifted to cover his mouth shakes as his body reacts to the news of the peril he and his loved ones are in.
‘Olly!’ My raised voice causes his focus to snap back onto me. ‘You need to be strong. Your wife and daughter are relying on you right now. I know it’s tough, but you have to go over there, break the news to them and then start calling the rest of your family. I’ll be within twenty paces at all times and promise to protect you until the police get here.’
Olly’s back straightens as he pulls himself together and faces up to his responsibilities as a husband and father. ‘Thank you.’
I just hope my promise isn’t put to the test. Whoever the killer is, he’s got a supply of different weapons and the knowledge of how to use them. All I’ve got is a history of bar fights and a gun locked into the trunk of a car parked a quarter mile away.
With Olly returning to his wife and daughter, I try the chief again. He answers this time.
I deliver a brief but potent report.
When he stops cursing, I ask what I should do. He tells me to look after Harriet and her parents and to make sure nobody goes near the body until he gets here. He’ll get Darla to call Steve’s cell. If there’s no answer he’ll organise a search party for him when he arrives.
I understand the chief’s torn loyalties. On one hand there’s a police officer who may be lying injured or dead, but on the other, there are members of the public who are definitely at risk.
Choosing one over the other is a gamble either way, but his sense of duty compels him to protect the public.
While I agree with his choice, I hope for Steve’s sake that if he’s unhurt he’s got an unimpeachable reason for not preventing the murder of Angus Oberton. Never mind what the chief may say to him, or the fact he could lose his job and the associated pension, if he’s been idiotic enough to fall asleep or become distracted playing on his cell, he’ll have to live with the knowledge a man has died because of his negligence.
Chapter 57
Norm hands money and a false smile to the storekeeper. In the bag on the counter are four cartons of cigarettes, a copy of the Casperton Gazette’s special edition and a bag of apples.
The cigarettes aren’t for him. He doesn’t yet know who they’re for, but he knows they’ll kill whoever he gives them to. Not the long slow death of a smoker, but the sudden death of someone who has ingested a deadly poison. All he has to do is prepare the cigarettes in the correct way and introduce one or two drops of the resulting mixture into the target’s body.
The solution will be so potent it can be added to a drink or meal with fatal consequences. If the target is already a smoker, by the time a blood sample is taken, the traces will be so insignificant they’ll fail to alert even the most diligent coroner.
Driving home, Norm lifts the six-page special edition at every pause in the traffic. Skim reading the articles, he grasps the basic facts, leaving the detailed analysis for later.
One thing is clear to him by the time he pulls into his drive. Jake Boulder is becoming an increasingly sharp thorn in his side.
He wonders if there’s a way to deal with Boulder without compromising the pattern. It would be good to take him down, to send a message that no one is untouchable.
The flip side of this is Boulder won’t be the kind of easy target he’s grown accustomed to. Sure, it’ll be a challenge, but he’s confident of his own abilities.
Norm enters the house and dumps the apples into the fruit bowl. He selects one, polishes it on his shirt, then pours himself a glass of milk.
The picture of him and Melanie pinned to the fridge door by a magnet bought from some place or other draws its usual smile from him. They’d just gotten engaged when the picture was taken. Melanie’s face radiates utter joy as she cuddles against him, left hand raised to show her new ring to the camera.
He remembers the night well. Sitting in the restaurant with the ring in his pocket he’d been more nervous than the first time he’d faced combat. After their desserts were cleared he’d gone down on one knee to ask a question which would change their relationship forever. His mouth had been an arid wasteland in which his tongue had stumbled from one mispronounced word to the next.
When she’d said yes, his entire being changed. Gone were the dry mouth and the uncontrollable tongue. Nerves were chased away by a new-found confidence.
He’d felt ten feet tall and invincible, his natural shyness dissipated by the feelings of euphoria. When the news spread throughout the restaurant and a round of applause started he’d lapped it up.
One of the waiters had produced a camera and taken the photo which had adorned their fridge ever since.
Pushing aside thoughts of what Melanie would think of him, Norm crosses to his computer to start researching the next target.
; With the police aware of his pattern, things have become harder. Yet the extra challenges make it more interesting. If he can continue raising the tally his reputation will be enhanced. With luck he’d join the greats.
To those who follow, he’ll be a deity. FBI students will be taught about him and his methods. Psychologists will analyse his psyche from afar and make spurious pronouncements on his motivations.
He may even be included in true crime books or one of the many books about serial killers. Perhaps one day someone will write a book solely about him or commission a TV documentary.
Maybe they’ll even turn his story into a movie. Sure, Boulder, the chief or some FBI guy will end up as the hero, but his story will still become famous.
Norm is aware of just how captivating a villain can be in the hands of the right actor. British actors like Alan Rickman and Anthony Hopkins have more than proven that particular theory.
He ignores the sudden urge for some fava beans and refocuses his mind onto the research he needs to do.
It takes him ten minutes to get a name for the finder. Next he identifies family members who live in the area. Of the twelve names he jots onto the pad at his left, three are under the age of eighteen and therefore discounted as not being viable targets.
That leaves nine. The parents, both sets of grandparents, two aunts and a cousin.
He fancies going for the cousin or an aunt but now the pattern is public knowledge it’ll be good to have one of the parents next.
With his research done until the surveillance can begin, he moves to a more comfortable chair and sits down with another apple and the special edition.
Reading between the lines of conjecture and speculation he finds there is little he doesn’t already know, other than just how involved Jake Boulder has become.
The beginnings of an idea start to form in his mind as he absorbs the articles. Each is written with a sense of detachment apart from a strong opinion piece by Ms Rosenberg.
Never one to hide her views, she takes multiple potshots at Casperton PD, the chief in particular, and the whole law enforcement system within the state of Utah. Only Boulder seems to avoid her scathing rhetoric, although his presence is used as another stick to beat the police with.
Even though he’s the cause of the fear-inspiring piece, he thinks she’s being harsh.
A government trained killer, selecting what appear to be random targets, then killing them in a variety of ways, is something no police department is equipped to deal with.
Norm knows he’s gotten away with the first twenty-five killings. They’d all been passed off as accidents or suicides just like he’d planned.
The Niemeyer bitch had been the breakthrough for him. Number twenty-six was the one he’d selected as the first to be an obvious murder. To escalate the game and invite an investigation. To provide an opponent.
It had succeeded twofold. Chief Watson and Jake Boulder now stood against him.
Soon it will be time to find out who is the worthiest.
Chapter 58
The station is awash with agitated people when I return. A pair of patrolmen are trying without success to manage the crowd.
I hear their complaints as I push and wriggle my way through. They range from queries about past deaths being related, to demands the killer be caught before he strikes again.
Lord help Chief Watson when he gets back from the nature reserve. He’ll be mobbed. If he stops to answer each person, there’s no way he’ll be able to do his job.
Seeing Harriet ensconced once again in her mother’s arms, I make my way towards them.
Olly is off to one side. He’s neither part of the crowd nor separate from it. Instead he’s hanging in limbo as he tries to gather information, while also being there for his family.
I can tell from his face he’s achieving neither and feels useless because of his failure.
Taking his arm, I guide him off to one side. ‘Are all your family here?’
His nod elicits a mental sigh of relief from me, as his eyes wander across the crowd.
‘Gather them up and tell them to leave the people on the desk to do their jobs. As soon as the chief has something to tell you, he will. All they are doing is making things harder for the police.’
I can see my words are being taken in, but his mind isn’t working at full speed and it takes a few seconds to process the data I’m giving him.
His gaze locks onto Harriet. ‘You’re right. The sooner we leave them to do their jobs, the sooner all this will be over.’
I cast my eyes across the reception area and see Kelly Oberton’s grief-stricken face, Mrs Halliburton’s mouth set with grim determination and a host of other faces filled with sorrow or anger.
Taking the coward’s way out, I slip unnoticed into the office where Alfonse was working earlier.
He’s right where I left him, staring at the screen in front of him with furrows across his brow.
‘What you got?’
There’s pain in his eyes when he looks at me. ‘I’ve now got fifteen definites before Kira and I’m working on the sixteenth now. Every one of them has been made to look like an accident or suicide.’
‘That’s surely enough to convince the FBI.’
‘Darla typed it up and made an official request when I had proof of six.’ He gives a helpless shrug. ‘The sooner they get here the better. We’re way out of our depth with this one.’
‘You gonna give up when they get here?’ It’s a cheap shot from me but I need to know where he stands.
His eyes flash. ‘Of course not. But this guy scares the life outta me and your name is all over the paper. It’s only a matter of time before you or someone close to you gets hurt.’
‘What?’
He hands me a special edition of the Casperton Gazette. ‘Darla brought this in earlier. Read page two.’
I take the paper from him as he turns back to his screen. There’s a hunch to his shoulders which tells me his mindset.
Alfonse doesn’t get angry often, but when he does it’s always with good reason. I open the paper and see the headline.
Local Man Shows Inept Police Way Forward
Below the headline is Ms Rosenberg’s name and a stock photograph.
Local hero, Jake Boulder, has stepped in to show Casperton’s
inept police force how to conduct a proper investigation. Not even a private detective himself, he has nevertheless proved to be a far more competent investigator than any of Chief Watson’s so-called detectives.
Regular readers of my column will be fully aware of the disdain in which I hold the town’s detectives. Never has the curse of nepotism imperilled the good townspeople so blatantly.
It is a poor enough state of affairs – Mayor Farrage is the current incumbent due to nothing more than a family name and a lack of credible opposition. That his college-dropout son is the town’s lead detective is risible to say the least.
Surely once this heinous killer is apprehended, Chief Watson’s new broom will sweep clean the ranks of his detective squad. Anything less than five competent trained detectives and he will be failing in his basic duty. Leaving Lieutenant Farrage in his current position neither serves nor protects us.
My sources have been adamant every breakthrough in the pursuit of the killer has come from Jake Boulder. I can reveal to you that I have personally seen him attending the locations where three of the victims have been found.
From my personal observations, it would not be amiss to suggest our new chief of police has more faith in a man with no investigative qualifications or training than he has in his highly paid detective squad.
I say the chief is right and we should all be thankful Jake Boulder, and not Lieutenant Farrage, is the man he turns to.
Should Jake Boulder ask you questions, I implore you to answer them honestly and without agenda. Lives may very well depend upon it.
I slap the newspaper onto a desk when I’ve finished reading it. ‘It doesn’t read well for L
ieutenant Farrage. Or the chief come to think of it.’
Alfonse scowls at me. ‘Never mind them. What about you?’
‘It’s nice for the ego but other than that it doesn’t mean anything.’ A thought strikes me and it’s not a nice one. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’
‘Jealous? No, you fool, I’m not jealous. I’m afraid for you. If you were the killer and you read that article what would you think?’
I wave a dismissive hand at him. ‘I’d ignore it as a piece of journalistic embellishment.’
‘Really? You’ve lived here as long as I have. Tell me, how often are her columns and pieces embellished? She may go over the top with her rhetoric but the logic and facts are spot on. She’s well known for preferring accuracy to sensationalism.’
‘So?’ I try to brazen it out but he’s got a point and it appears he wants to impale me with it.
‘Do you need words of one syllable?’ Getting no answer from me he continues. ‘If the killer is a local and he reads this piece what do you think he’ll make of it?’
I think about shrugging but decide against it. Instead I keep my mouth shut, lest I give him another reason to rail at me.
‘I’ll tell you what he’ll make of it if you won’t answer me. He’ll think you’re a threat. If he’s as deranged or psychotic as Dr Edwards has suggested to you, he may just think he’ll stand a better chance of not getting caught if you’re out of the picture.’
‘I don’t fit his selection pattern.’
‘No you don’t. But you’re an annoying fly buzzing around his head. Sooner or later he’s going to swat you and speaking for myself, I’d rather that didn’t happen.’
‘Thanks for caring but don’t worry. I can take care of myself.’
‘That attitude is why I’m worried.’
I’ve had enough of this. ‘Back off, Alfonse. I’m getting enough grief off Mother without you joining the chorus.’
He’s out of his seat in a flash, hands planted on the desk as he leans towards me. ‘So the great Jake Boulder is pissed because the two people who know him best are afraid he’s going to do something stupid and get himself killed. C’mon man, you’re too smart not to see that article has made you a target.’