Daddy Long Legs

by Vernon W. Baumann

  At approximately 9:45am, Ronelle and Basie Venter, from number eighteen Le Roux Street, discovered the corpse of Kobus van Jaarsveld in the shade of the Hope water tower.

  Moments later, Detective Human received the call. He felt a cold settle over his body. He had dreaded the call. Had hoped beyond hope (as it were) that they could save the boy. But now that the certainty was here, he felt re-focused. Re-invigorated. It was time to catch a killer. Grabbing every conceivable car, and even an old bicycle in one case, the house quickly emptied as the detectives rushed to the scene.

  Minutes later, the Corolla ground to a halt in the dirt road that bypassed the water towers. Human and four other detectives jumped out of the car.

  The scene was pure chaos. Human felt his heart sink.

  At least two dozen civilians were trudging through the area. Others were standing around in huddled groups, shocked expressions on their faces. Human always marvelled at the lightning efficiency of word-of-mouth communications. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since the couple had discovered the body. And here they were. Lining up for their little piece of the macabre. Baying for their little snatch of blood sport. Destroying his crime scene. Human ran up to the crowd. In his anger and desperation, he had pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. He now waved it at the crowd as he ran screaming at them. Some recoiled. Others ran for cover. More than one fell flat and disappeared behind a bush here, a boulder there. ‘Get away. Get away, goddammit!’ Human pulled out his badge. ‘This is a crime scene. Get away here.’ Three white police vans pulled up. Groups of uniformed policemen jumped out. Human waved wildly at the policemen. ‘Get these people out of here. Get them out of here.’ Rushing into the bush, the policemen quickly cleared the area, escorting bewildered civilians off the premises. Those who were hiding re-appeared and allowed the policemen to escort them away, sheepish looks on their faces. Soon Human had established control. He cursed loudly as he surveyed the undergrowth, trampled underfoot by dozens of feet. There was no way to know to what extent the crime scene had been compromised. Suddenly he remembered the surveillance shift. He turned to one of his detectives. ‘Who’s on duty here? Who the HELL was supposed to watch this site?’ The detective was so taken aback with the normally mild-mannered policeman’s outburst that he remained quiet. Human looked around with wild rage. He spotted the car. Behind a turn in the dirt road that curled around the hill. Fuelled by fury, he ran over to the car, the startled detective in tow. Inside, blissfully unaware, detective Joffe was still asleep. Human ripped open the car door and grabbed the detective. Joffe awoke with a start, flailing desperately, believing himself under attack. Which, in all reality, he was. In one smooth motion Human pulled him from the car and flung him onto the dirt road. ‘WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?’ Recoiling amidst a flurry of dust, Joffe looked around him with bewilderment. ‘Look what you’ve done, goddammit. Look what you’ve done.’ Joffe looked over at the water tower. His face blanched instantly. He looked at Human with dread, his lips shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘I ... I ... I ...’

  Human dropped his head, rubbing his forehead with tense fingers. ‘Detective,’ he said, addressing the policeman behind him, ‘please escort Joffe to one of the police vans.’ He looked at the detective sprawled out in the dust. ‘Detective, you’re officially suspended. I’ll deal with you later.’ And with that he turned. Behind him he heard the disgraced detective jump to his feet and mutter an incoherent explanation. He paid no attention. There were more important things to focus on.

  Two uniformed policemen were busy erecting a cordon, stringing the yellow police tape around wooden stakes that had been hammered into the hard soil. A detective waited for Human at the edge of the clearing. He motioned for him. ‘This way, detective.’ Through boulders and clumps of hard yellow grass, he led Human, through the rugged terrain to an area behind a large bush. To the corpse of an eleven-year old boy.

  The first thing that struck Human was that the corpse was naked. After his extensive reading of the case files, he knew that the previous bodies had always been fully clothed. The second thing that struck him was the signs of severe abuse. He knelt by the body. The little boy’s body was covered in scores of bruises, contusions, abrasions and burn marks. Around the throat were the characteristic signs of strangulation. Human knew without having to look, that the whites of the eyes would feature petechial haemorrhaging, the tell-tale signs of death by strangulation.

  Human stood up. The dead boy had been dumped with careless indifference. Lying on his back, his right arm was bent under the body in the impossible acrobatics of the dead; a gaping mouth uttered a silent scream at the clear blue skies above. ‘He turned to a detective next to him. ‘Has the profiler been alerted?’

  The detective nodded. ‘He’s on his way, sir.’

  Further back, on the edge of the clearing, an e-tv van pulled up. A group of men and one woman jumped out and quickly set up their equipment. Moments later, the CSU team also arrived.

  Human turned to his detectives. ‘I want nobody touching anything. Do I make myself clear.’ He looked at each detective in turn, ensuring his message was getting through. ‘Until the profiler has been able to process the scene ... and until the photographer has finished, I want everybody to stay away from the body.’ He repeated his question. ‘Do I make myself clear? Those closest to him nodded. Human pointed at the two detectives nearest to him. ‘I want you and you to take a few beacons,’ Human said, referring to the little orange beacons police used to mark crime scene items, ‘and carefully ... and I mean carefully, scout the surrounding area, and mark anything that could be significant.’ He pointed to the cordon. ‘Until the profiler has finished, I want all the rest of you to remain behind that cordon.’ The remaining detectives made their way to the police cordon, some with grudging truculence. Seconds later, to Human’s relief, Colonel Jan Potgieter arrived on the scene. Human led him to the body. The profiler, just like Human, carefully knelt by the body. ‘What do you think?’ Human asked.

  Jan Potgieter frowned and exclaimed softly. ‘Interesting,’ was all he said.

  Funny, thought Human, it was exactly the same reaction he had had. Human knelt next to the bulky man, feeling embarrassed at the words he was about to utter. ‘I’m sorry to say ... but the scene has been compromised.’ He paused, staring at the dirt beneath. ‘To what extent, I can’t say.’ The profiler nodded but said nothing.

  There was a sudden commotion in the veldt around them. Human rose. Angry. Hadn’t he told everybody to stay outside the cordons? Brussouw came tearing through the thick bush. He stopped in front of Human, out of breath. Before the Johannesburg detective could berate his junior, he spoke. ‘Detective Human, there’s been a development.’ He took a moment to catch his breath. ‘You’ve gotta come and see this.’

  Nine

  Human and Brussouw stormed into the detective HQ. Galvanised by Brussouw’s urgency, Human had raced the short distance to the headquarters. All the junior detective said was that there was something on the Internet.

  A small group of detectives was huddled around a computer monitor. They made way for Human. The detective seated in front of the computer pointed at the monitor. It was a Facebook page. ‘It’s the Daddy Long Legs page,’ the seated policeman said, clean forgetting that Human had instructed no-one to use the hated moniker. ‘Look here.’

  And there it was. One of the postings. Human leaned in and carefully read the words.

  Eeny meeny miny mo. Tomorrow. Nine oh clock. Ay Em. The water tower. See you there, Detective Human.

  Human read the words again. Stunned. Then one more time. ‘When was it posted?’

  The detective pointed to time signature. ‘Yesterday afternoon. 3:33pm’

  Human frowned. He turned to Brussouw. ‘Get Joffe on the line. Now.’ Moments later they confirmed what Human had already suspected. John Joffe had fallen asleep about an hour after his shift started. Just before eight. The Venter couple discovered the bo
dy around 9:45am. It was not only plausible. It was more than likely.

  The sick bastard known as Daddy Long Legs had crossed the barrier. And poked a dirty finger in his face. He was toying with them. Despite all the efforts. Despite all the precautions. He had been toying with them from the start. He had reached out across space and time. He had reached out and grabbed detective Wayne Human by the balls. Then yanked hard.

  There was of course no way that he could have known that Joffe would fall asleep. It had been a fluke. The Devil taking care of his own. He had been brazen and arrogant enough to dump the body. Right under the noses of Human’s detectives. Knowing full well that the site was under surveillance. And he had succeeded. Human slammed the desk. He turned to the seated policeman. ‘Who posted it?’

  The detective consulted the monitor. ‘René Matthews.’

  Brussouw recoiled violently. ‘What? That can’t be.’ He looked shocked. ‘That’s Gert’s teenage daughter.’

  Human pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. And cocked it. ‘Let’s go.’ Brussouw’s eyes widened in surprise. An awed silence hung over the room. ‘You lead the way, detective.’ Some of the others looked at Human, shocked. ‘I want four of you to join me. Make sure you’re armed. Now! Let’s go.’

  Seconds later two unmarked police cars were racing to the address that Brussouw had supplied. Both cars ground to a halt in the dirt road outside the modest house. A billowing cloud of dust enveloped everything. Surely, anybody who had been watching the road from inside the house would have been terrified by the sight of six detectives, guns held aloft, charging out of an apocalyptic cloud of dust.

  Not knowing what they would find, the group of detectives adopted a tactical, S.W.A.T. approach, with three detectives stationed on either side of the Matthews front door. Taking care to stay away from any windows. Human knocked loudly. ‘THIS IS THE POLICE. OPEN THE DOOR.’ Then after a moment’s pause. ‘NOW!’ After a few seconds there was movement behind the door. A latch was dislocated. The door was opened slightly. And a terrified face peered through the crack. Brussouw violently pushed open the door. Following strict tactical guidelines, the detectives stormed inside.

  ‘Ooh, jiri, nee!’ It was the Matthews domestic. An old Coloured woman. Brussouw pointed a gun at her. ‘Please get on the ground, ma’am,’ he said, trying to be as gentle as possible. ‘Now.’

  ‘Ooh, Jiri, wat nou, wat nou?’ She moaned as she obediently lay down on the thick carpet.

  ‘Is there anyone else in the house?’ It was Human.

  ‘Net Renetjie. Sy’s in die kamer, meneer,’ the terrified woman said, pointing down a long corridor. Only René. She’s in her room.

  ‘Stay here, Brussouw.’ Human indicated with his head for the other detectives to follow him. They quickly moved down the corridor and stopped outside a door that indicated a teenage occupant, purely by way of the High School Musical poster. Human hammered on the door with the butt of his service pistol. ‘POLICE! OPEN UP!’

  There was movement inside. Seconds later a tiny, terrified female voice was heard, right up against the door. ‘W-w-w-what?’

  Human depressed the door handle and the cops charged inside. They found a young teenage girl, both hands instinctively in the air, palms facing the detectives. The force of the door had propelled her against the far wall. ‘Help! Help! Help!’ She screamed in terrified anguish.

  ‘Lie on the bed. On the bed. Now!’ Being a young, terrified teenager, Human didn’t have the heart to force her onto the floor. She complied immediately. And lay down on her single bed, hands shaking uncontrollably. All the while staring at the plainclothes detectives with their drawn guns. Realising that the girl was terrified Human told his detectives to holster their guns. He approached the girl. She shrank away. Human sat on the bed. ‘Look ... René, I’m sorry we scared you. It wasn’t our intention, I promise.’ He lowered his voice, speaking tenderly. ‘You know about ... Daddy Long Legs, right? The serial killer?’ She nodded vigorously. ‘You know that we’re trying to catch him. Before he strikes again.’ René nodded. ‘Good.’ Human looked over at a computer on a desk in the corner. ‘That’s your PC over there, right?’ She nodded. ‘Do you have a Facebook account?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. I think I should get one too. Maybe I’ll meet more people.’ She didn’t smile, unaware that Human was trying to make a joke. ‘Tell me René, did you post a message on the Daddy Long Legs page yesterday afternoon?’

  She looked around at the various detectives with fright. ‘No, sir. No, I didn’t. Really, I didn’t.’ She looked terrified.

  ‘Don’t worry, René.’ Human placed a hand on hers. ‘We believe you.’ Human looked at the PC again. ‘René, can you switch on your PC and log into your account?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She nodded obediently as she slid off the bed and took a seat in front of the monitor. Two minutes later the monitor displayed the contents of her Facebook page. Human, not being acquainted with social networking (online and offline), turned to the policeman who had originally discovered the posting, detective Enrique Gonzales.

  The policeman leaned forward. ‘Show us your timeline.’ The teen clicked on a link and all her recent postings appeared on the screen. The detective scanned the monitor. ‘There it is.’

  ‘I didn’t do it, I promise.’ She started crying. ‘I didn’t do anything, really.’

  ‘Don’t worry, honey. We believe you.’ Human looked at the detective. ‘Somebody ... hacked into her account?’

  He nodded. ‘More than likely.’

  Human knelt by the girl who was wiping tears from her eyes. ‘Tell me, René, do you ever communicate with strangers online? You know, chat rooms ... erm ... instant messaging, that sort of thing?’ The girl instantly dropped her head, staring at her keyboard. She dug her toes into the carpet. Human exchanged a knowing glance with the other cops in the room. ‘René? Is there something you want to tell us?’ She looked at Human, a sheepish look on her face. ‘René?’

  She blurted out her words. ‘Please don’t tell my father. Please, sir.’ She started crying again. ‘Please. He’ll punish me.’

  Human embraced her and held her quietly. ‘He doesn’t have to know anything. I promise. It’ll be our secret.’ He released her and pulling a wad of tissues from a box on her desk, he wiped her tears. ‘Here you go. Nothing to worry about, okay? I’m a big bad detective. Nobody tells me what to do. Even your father’s scared of me.’ She smiled at Human’s words. ‘Okay?’ She nodded. ‘Good. Now tell me, tell me about these ... people you chat with on the Internet. Where do you meet them? On Facebook?’

  ‘Some. But not many.’

  ‘Okay, so where do you meet the others?’

  ‘Mostly in chat rooms.’ She sniffed. ‘There’s like, a million of them.’

  ‘Okay. Good.’ He smiled encouragement at her. ‘So tell me, how many people have you been chatting with, over the last ... few weeks?’ She immediately averted her eyes again. Human sensed trouble. ‘Listen, honey, you’re going to need to be honest with me.’ She looked at Human from the corner of her eye. ‘Okay? So tell me, how many boys you been chatting with? I assume they’re mostly boys, right?’

  She nodded, guilt across her face. ‘Mostly, sir.’

  ‘So how many boys? Ten?’ She shook her head. ‘Twenty?’ Again. ‘Thirty?’ No, not thirty. Human was beginning to find it hard to hide his shock. ‘For God’s sake, René, do you know how dangerous this is? Do you realise that most of these ‘boys’ are fat old men in dirty underwear?’ She shrank back, staring in hurt surprise at Human. Realising he had spoken too loudly, he lowered his voice. ‘I’m sorry. But really, honey, you must be careful. Look at everything that’s been happening. This world is filled with sick people.’ She nodded in contrition. ‘Okay. So how many boys have you been chatting with over the last few weeks? Forty?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Probably about forty.’ Human sighed. He took her hand in his. ‘Listen, honey, we’re going to hav
e to take your computer.’

  Her head whipped back in shock. ‘No. Why? Why? I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘We know. Okay. We need to take it for evidence. To try and catch this evil man.’ She started crying yet again. ‘Look here, you’ll get it back. You have my word. I will personally deliver it to your door.’ Human’s words were little consolation. And she continued sobbing. He, of course, didn’t have the heart to tell her that, as an item of evidence and with the slow judicial process, her computer would remain in police custody for at least two years. ‘I’m sorry about it.’ She sobbed softly. Human sighed. ‘Okay, detective, you’ll take care of everything here,’ Human said, addressing Gonzales. He was eager to get back to the dump site. He squeezed the teenager’s hand. ‘Now listen, I want you to be careful. Stay away from these chat sites. There’s a lot of very nice boys in Hope. You don’t need to mess around with these people, okay?’ Human had a notion that, following the morning’s events, she wouldn’t easily enter another chat room. ‘I want you to take care of yourself, you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.’

  ‘That’s fine. You be good, okay?’

  Moments later Human was back at the dump site. He noted that a large number of little numbered beacons had been placed across the site. In a case like this, overkill was de rigueur. It was better to collect too much evidence than too little. Somehow though he doubted that the extremely organised Hope killer would be careless enough to leave evidence at a crime scene. Their best hope was the corpse of the little boy. And the pathology report that was to follow. Then, of course, there was always the profile.

  He found Jan Potgieter still on-site. The profiler was bent over with a notepad, carefully surveying the immediate vicinity of the body; with the meticulous obsession that was one of the profiler’s greatest tools. Human took a position next to Potgieter, being careful not to disturb anything. After a few moments he spoke. ‘Any thoughts?’