Cannibal Man
Page 21
“Not today you won’t. Address?”
Silence. Sauer eventually looked up into a cold stare. They looked at each other for a few moments. Sauer leaned back into his chair. “You know, we can do it the hard way, or they easy way.”
Henry continued glaring at Sauer. Sauer got up and walked from behind the desk towards the killer. Henry got up, his eyes never leaving Sauer’s face. The two men looked at each other—the glare in Henry’s face almost inviting Sauer to hit him.
Sauer sat on the edge of the desk, looking up at Henry. “I have the right to hold you here for forty-eight hours without charging you.”
Henry’s lips smirked to one side. “I know,” he said. “I also know that I have a right to a lawyer.”
Sauer got off the desk and walked out of the interrogation room. Hobbs stood behind the one-way glass. He didn’t look up as Sauer entered.
Together, they stared at Henry through the one-way glass. “Perhaps,” Hobbs said eventually, “we should lock him up in the police holding cells with the common criminals for the night. That normally sorts the sissies from the real men.”
Sauer walked out and summoned two uniformed policemen. “Take this piece of crap and throw him in a holding mobile– preferable with other killers and rapists,” Sauer barked.
Henry was unceremoniously dumped into a holding cell. It stank of human excrement, urine and stale sweat. High above him, a 40-watt light bulb tried to emit light through layers of smoke and dust. He looked at the faces surrounding him. Staring back at him was a horde of black faces. He was the only white man there. Some of his fellow prisoners were shocked to see the white man, while others grinned openly in glee. Now is not a time to sleep, Henry told himself. He walked to the nearest wall, and with his back to it, lowered himself unto his haunches. The crowd around him started whispering in their native tongue. He did not understand what they said.
Henry took slow, deep breaths and tried to relax himself. From the whispers and faces he realized that his cellmates were now openly discussing him. Some lit up cigarettes and played a card game on the concrete floor, while others sat in the dark corners staring at him.
When and how he managed to doze off, he could not remember. A chocking fume of smoke was blown into his face. His eyes flew open. In front of him he saw a wrinkled, black face. Black, beady eyes stared into his face and yellow teeth were visible between the thick lips. A scrawny hand brought a hand-rolled cigarette to his mouth. Henry could hear him taking a deep drag. He slowly blew the smoke into Henry’s face. “We are brothers,” said the mouth to him. “I looked into your soul—you are my brother.”
Henry froze. He said nothing. The black eyes kept squinting at him.
“You like to kill and eat your prey,” the lips mouthed the words at him. “But first you show them who is in charge.
Still Henry said nothing. It seemed to him that they were they only two awake. Soft snoring could be heard.
“I also kill for pleasure,” the lips continued. Henry felt cold ripples running down his spine. “I have killed many. For fun. Because I could.” The lips took a deep drag from the cigarette again.
“You must not say anything to them, especially the big one with the dark hair. He is dangerous. He has the soul of a snake. He will strike you when you are not looking. The big one with the hair like daylight has a soft heart.
When they let you go, you must run away immediately. Far away. Go somewhere where they will not find you. These people won’t stop till they find you again. So you must run far. But don’t go back to your mother’s house. You will not be safe there.” The man turned and crawled away from Henry. He watched in amazement as the figure disappeared into the dark wall opposite him. All went silent. Outside he could hear crickets screeching. Did I just dream or did that really happen?
Henry stayed in that holding mobile the whole of the next day. During this time he was given sickly sweet tea in a tin mug and two thick slices of bread with apricot jam. He drank the tea but gave the bread to the men in the cell. During the day he tried to spot his nightly visitor, but could not identify him from the sea of faces in the cell. Still, nobody tried to befriend him. It was as if they were petrified of him.
Dusk started settling into night when the holding cell’s doors opened. Two uniformed policemen cuffed his hands at the front and escorted him without a word back to the interrogation room. The air outside the cell smelled sweet and clean, despite Johannesburg early autumn smog.
Once again, he was told to sit on the wooden chair. This time he was alone in the room, but he sensed the people behind the one-way mirror. He looked down at his cuffed hands.
Hobbs and Sauer stood behind the one-way mirror. Superintendent Hansen stood behind them. He eventually spoke, “Perhaps you boys must make him angry. People always say things they don’t mean when they’re angry.” Hobbs nodded at Sauer and walked into the room.
Henry looked up at Hobbs as he strutted into the room.
“So, tell me,” said Hobbs as he sat on the desk in front of Henry. “What on Earth happened to you as a child to make you want to kill those fat, ugly bitches?”
Henry stared into his face. He knew this trick, bad cop, good cop. This one was clearly trying to play good cop with him, trying to win his confidence. This is the one who has the soul of a snake, the old man in the holding cell told him about. He said nothing.
“I myself had a raw deal as a child,” Hobbs continued. “My father often beat my mom to a pulp. He raped my older sister and beat me whenever the fancy took him.”
Henry giggled in his mind. You know fuck—all…you asshole! Trying to make as if you had a tough time! Ha! Things like that are etched on your face, your being…it is part of your make-up. One cannot stroll into a room and then pretend that those things happened to you just so you can win the confidence from a serial killer. Asshole. We recognize each other by the scars we carry. As for your asshole, I see no scars.
Hobbs elaborated as best he could about his traumatic childhood.
“Those fat bitches you killed…I actually want to shake your hand. They meant nothing to society in any way. They just sucked up oxygen…pretending to be so good and holy. Meanwhile paying rotten Jimmy to work them over with the vibrator…” Hobbs eventually ran out of things to say. Henry did not flinch.
Sauer looked at this from behind the mirror. It’s hopeless. We are dealing with a calculated, psychotic killer. In the olden days, we would have knocked the truth out of him, and if we couldn’t, we would have shot him.
Eventually, Henry spoke, “I would now like to phone a lawyer.” It stopped Hobbs mid-sentence. He glared at the arrogant face in front of him. He wanted to hit the arrogant face in front of him. As he spoke, he noticed a quick smile on the killer’s face.
He got up and walked out without another word.
“Looks like,” Sauer said to superintendent, “we are totally reliant on the forensic evidence.” Superintendent Hansen nodded his head in agreement.
Chapter Forty-Four
Three days later.
The courthouse was an old building situated next to the police station. Unlike the red-faced brick used to build the police station, the courthouse was an impressive building built from sandstone straight out of the colonial age. It was filled with legal offices and its impressive size dominated the street. Impressive wooden panels polished to a gleam lined the hallways.
The hallways and the courtroom were packed. It was a media feeding frenzy. Late the previous evening, the Superintendent Hansen announced to the press that the Face Lifter had finally been arrested. His mobile rang non-stop. Microphones were stuffed into his face as he tried to make his way to the courtroom. He shouldered his way through the media mob.
With broad chests, Sauer and Hobbs strutted down the pavement outside the courtroom. Journalists spotted them. Cameras flashed, microphones were whipped from Hansen’s face and stuck in front of Sauer’s face. Hundreds of questions were screamed at once.
As
best they could, the two detectives ignored the frenzy and walked through the chaos into the court, disregarding the media mobs. The court was not in session yet. Hobbs and Sauer hastened down the steps to the holding cells underneath the courtroom to see whether the Face Lifter had arrived.
He was there indeed. Henry sat in a holding cell with about forty other men awaiting trial. His hands and legs were cuffed in front of him and a heavy chain attached his legs to his arms. It would be difficult for such a tall man to walk. He looked up as saw the two detectives enter the hallway on the other side of the bars. He smiled his crooked smile at Sauer.
“Smile, my boy, smile,” Sauer said. “We’ll see who smiles last.”
A short, round man appeared behind the detectives. “Excuse me,” he said, “I’d prefer if you didn’t talk to my client.”
The two looked at the short man. “I’m Advocate Frank O’Conner.” He extended his puffy hand towards the two detectives. “Any further questions to my client must be addressed to me.” They stared at the little man and then at each other. Without a word, they both turned round and walked back up the stairs. How the hell could he afford O’Conner, one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the country?
The courtroom was still empty. “Let’s go see John,” Hobbs said.
John Stein was the chief public prosecutor.
The detectives knocked on Stein’s door as they entered. He was pouring over the case files, five in all. Each case file contained the gruesome photographs and details of the deceased person. Piles of paper covered the table. Stein looked at them as they entered. “We can tie him only to Love and Zeller’s deaths,” he said. Although the details between Zeller and the other four are very similar, there is no evidence to prove that he killed them.”
Sauer stared out the window while Hobbs smoked one cigarette after the other. “What about the forensics?” Sauer asked. “Surely with today’s technology we could tie him to all the killings.”
“We have not yet received the forensic reports,” Stein said.
The two detectives gawked at him. “What do you mean you did not yet receive the forensic reports? I was with the pathologist last week and she said she posted them a week ago? You’re kidding—aren’t you? You are just trying to spoil my day! Right?”
Sauer was red in the face. He growled his last words like a lion. Hobbs stared at Stein.
“No, serious—I spoke to Doctor Mayer myself just now. She is going to see if she can print a copy for me and send it over as soon as possible. We should have it before lunch.”
As if on cue, Advocate O’Conner walked into Stein’s office. “I’m finished consulting with my client,” he beamed. “Perhaps we could continue after lunch?” He said as if he knew that the forensic evidence is missing.
Stein took the glasses from his face and nodded at Advocate O’Conner. “Sure, what is he going to plead?”
“He is innocent of course,” O’Conner chuckled.
“Of course,” Stein mimicked.
Sauer felt like flooring the arrogant short-ass. O’Conner promptly turned around and walked out of Stein’s office. As he opened the door, the media sharks were there—ever ready to feed. O’Conner held up his left hand and the media mob went silent. “Ladies and Gentleman,” he said, “my client is innocent. There is no proof, forensic or otherwise, to connect him with these hideous murders. Henry James Harper is just a hardworking student trying to put himself through university. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I can vouch for him. There is nothing even remotely evil about him.”
O’Conner gave his speech deliberately in the doorway so that the media would be able to see the expressions on the faces of the detectives and the prosecutor.
“See you in court, gentlemen,” O’Conner said as he walked out the door, leaving it open. Sauer walked to the door and slammed it hard in the faces of several journalists.
Sauer paced Stein’s office. “Fuck man, this can’t be possible!” He grabbed the telephone on Stein’s desk and furiously starts punching the numbers.
“Doctor Mayer?…It’s Sauer speaking…
“I’m working as fast as I can. Our computers were upgraded and I’m trying to find that file. I’m doing my best. Don’t worry. Go and have a greasy lunch. I’ll see you at court just after two.”
Sauer put the phone down without saying goodbye. The words were supposed to inspire him, but something in his sub-conscious mind told him that all was not well.
“Come Hobbs, let’s go stuff our pretty faces,” he said without much enthusiasm.
Hobbs followed Sauer out the door and through the media with their cameras, questions and opinions. Hobbs and Sauer made a point of shouldering a few cameramen out of the way, deliberately and hard.
Without a word, they drove to their favorite watering hole. Hobbs ordered his usual brandy and coke while Sauer wanted fried chicken, rice, vegetables and a brandy and coke to wash it down with. The drinks came first and they drank in silence.
* * * *
The courtroom was packed by the time they got back. Sauer scanned the room for Doctor Mayer. Her massive body was nowhere to be seen.
“Where is Mayer?” Sauer stressed to Hobbs.
Hobbs scanned the room and walked back into the hall. His mobile phone was already in his hand, punching numbers, then holding the phone next to his ear.
“Where are you?’ he barked.
“Right behind you, you little twit!” answered Doctor Mayer. She deliberately turned her back on Hobbs and spoke to Sauer.
“So, you want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Please tell me you are pregnant and that Hobbs is the daddy,” mocked Sauer.
“Nope, sorry. It is a little more serious than that.”
“Then you better give us the bad news first.”
“The bad news is that the genetic results have gone missing. Foofh, just like that. It vanished from my computer. Even the hard copy disappeared from my files. This has never happened before. I have never lost evidence before. I don’t know what happened. I had the boys who know about computers in, and even they could not find the file. It has simply been wiped off. I don’t know how, when or by whom.”
The news stunned Sauer and Hobbs into silence. Sauer sat down on the bench while Hobbs swore violently.
“Sorry boys,” Doctor Mayer said. “But nevertheless, let us go tell Stein and do our best.”
A smiling Henry entered the court. It was as if he knew that there would be no evidence.
He was asked whether he wanted to take the oath. He declined. The presiding officer was a middle-aged woman. She did not ask him why he did not want to take the oath. She kept writing, but looked up briefly. “Your name please.”
“Henry James Harper.” She did not stop writing.
“How do you plead?” a court orderly later asked him.
O’Conner jumped up. “Your honor, as you might know, I am Frank O’Conner, Senior Counsel.” He took a shallow, sharp breath. “I am representing Harper. It is therefore my intentions, as I am instructed, to plead not guilty to all the charges against my client.”
Henry flashed a brilliant smile at Stein.
“I would like,” O’Conner added, “to set a date for a bail application as soon as possible.”
Stein jumped up and started paging through his diary. He was not happy. “What about next Tuesday?” he asked O’Conner quietly. O’Conner nodded and Stein addressed the presiding officer, “Your Honor, the defense and the state has agreed that the bail application may be heard next Tuesday.”
As this was the first court appearance, it was brief and a postponement was secured.
O’Conner spoke quietly to Harper for a while and then he puffed himself up straight. “See you boys next week,” he smirked at Stein and the detectives.
The detectives greeted Stein and walked out of the courtroom into deserted hallways. Their shoes squeaked on the floors.
Chapter Forty-Five
Much later that evening Hobbs and Sauer staggered out of a pub, both motherless drunk and beyond rage. Every now and again one of them would slurred, “We will find out what happened to that fucking file.”
* * * *
A week later.
The first media people arrived long before the court started. Soon, the halls were packed again. Hobbs and Sauer arrived at court a little despondent. The last week they spent looking for the forensic evidence. But as Doctor Mayer said, “Foofh—it disappeared into thin air.” The detectives contacted the State Lab where the genetic testing was done. No, they did not have a backup. They didn’t keep back-ups. “And if you lose evidence?” Hobbs asked them. His answer was a shrug of the shoulder.
Once again, Hobbs and Sauer had to swallow the bitter pill of Africa, the continent where bribery and corruption are the order of the day. What made matters worse, was the fact that they couldn’t beat a confession out of Harper. The Face Lifter was immune to physical pain. It was as if he was used to being bullied. They later speculated that Harper might be one of these sick people who enjoys pain.
Hobbs and Sauer did not bother to go into the courtroom. They knew from talking to Stein the last few days that the case against Harper would be withdrawn.
Chapter Forty-Six
Jeanine Mayer went to her bedroom early. Earlier today, she was extensively interviewed by the media about the Face Lifter. She was exhausted. The media had this ability to drain a person of every grain of energy. It is probably part of their break-down strategy. Break the person down, exhaust them totally, and then zoom in on the inner truth.
She crawled into bed and picked up a magazine lying on her bed-side table. Her mind was too tired to even concentrate on the magazine. She switched the radio on. Again, she heard that Henry James Harper, the man thought to be the Face Lifter, was acquitted. She heard her own voice on the radio, “The Face Lifter is indeed a very sad person. Most people who commit these heinous crimes were themselves victims of various forms of abuse, be it sexual, verbal, physical or emotional. Or a combination of abuses. He is desperately crying out for help. One has to realize these serial killers know they do wrong, but are unable to help themselves. Often, this violent pattern is imprinted on them. They don’t know any better.”