by Rennie Airth
‘I am giving you my opinion, you understand, rather than any settled medical judgement. This question is still much debated and we are far from a consensus. For my part, however, I have come to believe that there are those born with a predisposition to commit acts appalling to the rest of us and with natures from which all trace of conscience is excluded. Though childhood trauma can never be ruled out as a factor, it is by no means a constant in these cases, and even when present cannot adequately explain the extremes of behaviour we encounter. In the end we are faced with a mystery to which there is as yet no solution. Indeed, if one were seeking proof of the existence of evil – and this is not a search I have ever undertaken, nor wish to believe in – then one need look no further than these monsters who by rights should not exist outside the realm of our nightmares.’
Weiss paused for a few moments, his gaze returning to the fire. Taken aback by what he had heard, the chief inspector waited for him to continue.
‘But we are straying from the question you put to me. Let us return to it.’ With a sigh, the doctor resettled himself in his chair. ‘We are assuming that this man exists and has been active for a number of years. If so, it is clear that he possesses qualities not usually associated with the type. Self-discipline, for one. Although the savagery of the Brookham murder seems to suggest otherwise, it is possible he has been able to suppress his urges for relatively long periods; that the very ferocity of the post mortem attack is a sign of them having been held in check. I made reference to a ritual earlier, and it may be that this battering of his victim’s face is his way of giving expression to the dominant emotion of his life, an impulse he must struggle to keep under control.’
‘An emotion, you say?’ Alerted by the word, Sinclair’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’
Weiss bit his lip. He seemed unsure how to continue, and his next words confirmed it.
‘There is no certainty here. What I offer is only an idea. But it seems to me that this man is possessed, above all, by a feeling of hatred. That there is no other way to read the Brookham crime. To destroy his victim’s face in that manner defies rational explanation. That is, unless one assumes that the sexual attack that preceded it was no more than a prelude to what, for him, was the true climax of the act: this last frenzied assault. If so, then it must be the only way he can achieve satisfaction.’
‘But hatred… I don’t understand. Hatred for the girl? The chances are he’d never set eyes on her before that day.’
The doctor shook his head. ‘The emotion I speak of is not personal. Think of it rather as a sickness of the soul.’ He saw puzzlement still written on his companion’s face. ‘You must not seek to apply normal standards of judgement to an individual such as this, Chief Inspector. He is alien to his species, and if he has survived for as long as we think he has, then it can only have been in the knowledge that every man’s hand is against him. In the circumstances, it would not be surprising if his own hostility towards others was intense, nor that it should find expression in a sexual context, where satisfaction is denied him. Why he has elected to prey on children, half-women at best, I cannot say, except that they are weak and easily managed and deviants of his kind are seldom able to deal with this area of life except through violence. But the ritual itself – the battering of his victims’ faces – almost certainly springs from some event in his past, perhaps even his childhood, and since he seeks to repeat it, one can only assume that it gave him pleasure. A pleasure to which he returns, time and again. Terrible though this thought is.’
In the silence that followed the crackle of a burning log sounded loud, and the sudden flare in the fire that resulted lent a flush to the analyst’s pale countenance.
‘But this is mere speculation.’ He gestured as though to dismiss it. ‘And we are yet to find an answer to your question – how could such a man have eluded discovery for so long?’
‘You mentioned self-discipline.’ Sinclair took a few seconds to order his thoughts. He had listened in dismay to what Weiss had told him. ‘Perhaps he’s been able to bring that quality to other areas of his life. To present some kind of front to the world?’
‘Oh, undoubtedly.’ The doctor was quick to concur. ‘There is no question in my mind that if this man exists, he must be remarkable in his way. Above all, he would have the ability to organize his life, to plan ahead, which is by no means the case with most of his kind. It’s quite likely he has sought to disguise himself and to adopt, if not a way of life, then at least habits that would tend to mask his true nature. But even so, it’s hard to imagine how he could have escaped detection for so long. Given his difference from others – this beast that lies coiled in him – his very presence in any group would be unsettling, and such individuals normally come to the notice of the authorities. Since this has not occurred, we must look for an explanation, and the long interval between these two crimes may provide us with a clue. Have you considered the possibility that he might have spent time abroad? That he moves about?’
The chief inspector nodded. ‘John and I were talking about that only this morning. The trouble is, it’s not an avenue I can readily explore. Not until the case is officially in my hands.’
‘That is unfortunate.’ Weiss gnawed at his lip. ‘But there are other areas worth investigating. The question of his background, for example.’
‘His background-?’
‘His class, if you will.’ He shrugged. ‘Correct me if I am wrong, but in this country more than any other a man’s social position is thought to define him. Peculiarities of manner or behaviour are often overlooked, particularly among the upper classes, where distinction of rank can sometimes render a man above suspicion. But perhaps I exaggerate…’ He had noticed the chief inspector’s frown.
About to resume, he paused as the sound of front door shutting came to their ears. Footsteps echoed in the stone-flagged hall. They heard Helen’s voice: she was speaking to Mary, the Maddens’ maid. The two men caught each other’s eye.
‘We must conclude, yes?’ Weiss spoke in a murmur. ‘I have only one more suggestion – it’s little more than a thought – but it occurs to me that a murderer of this type might have found protection, or rather anonymity, in some unorthodox way of life, outside the law.’
‘You mean he might be a criminal… a professional?’ Sinclair was momentarily arrested by the notion. But then he shook his head. ‘No
… no, I don’t think so. We have many sources in that world. If a killer like this had been at large, we would have heard of it. More than that: he’d have been given up.’
‘No doubt you are right.’ But the doctor seemed unconvinced. ‘Nevertheless, he has managed to survive somehow, and it might be as well if you considered the possibility that he has found some form of employment suited to his nature, one that has served as a disguise and has prevented him from coming to your notice.’
‘Suited to his nature! Surely not.’ Afraid that Helen might appear at any moment, Sinclair kept his voice low. But he spoke forcefully. ‘Just think what you’re saying, doctor. This is a killer of children!’
‘Yes, of course. But you misunderstand me.’ Distressed at the way his words had been taken, Weiss leaned closer. ‘I’m suggesting you look at the broader picture. The savagery of his crimes tells us something about the man; something important. This is a creature devoid of all moral restraints: one surely capable of other, equally ruthless acts. Other crimes.’
‘I understand what you’re saying, sir.’ Hearing the sound of approaching steps, Sinclair leaned forward in turn. ‘But where does that leave us? What place could he possibly have found for himself?’
‘That I cannot tell you.’ With a sigh, the doctor shook his head. ‘All I can do is urge you not to dismiss the notion.’ Dropping his voice still further, he peered at the chief inspector through the deepening shadows. ‘We may wish it were otherwise, but the world has a use for such men. It has always been so.’
PART TWO
10
‘This will have to be brief, Chief Inspector. I’ve a meeting in Whitehall in half an hour.’
Assistant Commissioner Bennett ushered Sinclair to a chair in front of his desk. He took note of his purposeful air.
‘You’ve spoken to your colleagues in Surrey and Sussex, I take it? They’re happy about us moving in?’
‘Quietly ecstatic would be closer to the mark, sir.’ Sinclair settled himself without delay. He’d come in haste from his office. ‘This case is going to be the very devil to crack. Nobody seems sure what to do next.’
Before he could say more the door opened and the reassuring bulk and rubicund features of Arthur Holly appeared.
‘Come in, Chief Superintendent.’ Bennett gestured to a second chair. ‘You’ve heard the news, I imagine?’
‘Angus rang me a moment ago, sir.’ Holly nodded to the chief inspector. ‘So they’ve found another one? Near Bognor Regis, I understand?’
‘That’s right. The Sussex police uncovered the body two days ago. The chief constable got in touch with us overnight. This is now officially a Yard case. Mr Sinclair will be in charge from our end and will keep us informed on a regular basis. Where do we stand now, Chief Inspector? Briefly, if you would. There’s no doubt, is there, that it’s linked to the Brookham business?’
‘None at all, sir.’ Sinclair had his file already opened on his lap. ‘Both girls were raped and strangled, faces destroyed in the same manner in post-mortem assaults. However, there was one difference.’ He glanced up. ‘The body found near Bognor Regis showed traces of chloroform in the lungs. It’s presumably what he used to immobilize her.’
‘There was no mention of that in the Brookham report.’ Bennett frowned.
‘No, but I’ve had a word with Dr Galloway – the pathologist who dealt with the body – and he points out that the killer in that instance drowned the girl as well as strangled her. It’s quite possible that any traces of chloroform in her lungs or what was left of her nasal passages could have been washed away.’
Bennett grunted. ‘Go on, Chief Inspector.’
‘Now, as regards the weapon employed for the facial assaults, Galloway has plumped for a hammer, and I gather the Sussex doctor’s of the same opinion. Mind you, his cadaver is in rather worse condition.’
‘Why’s that?’ Holly intervened.
‘Of course – you don’t know, Arthur.’ Sinclair turned to his colleague. ‘The murder in Sussex pre-dates the Brookham killing, by as much as a month. That’s according to medical opinion, and it’s confirmed by the time of her disappearance, which was late July. Her body was found on the coast near Bognor Regis – the girl’s name was Marigold Hammond, by the way. It’s a flat, fairly empty stretch of shoreline and the corpse was buried in a shallow grave in a patch of reeds and scrubland, covered with loose earth and pebbles – the beaches are shingled there – no more than fifty yards from the sea. Once again he took pains to hide the body. We were lucky at Brookham. The corpse was found within hours, thanks to Madden.’ The chief inspector’s face darkened. ‘I only wish we’d used the time better. The Surrey police have spent the past month looking for that blasted tramp. What’s more they still have to find him.’
‘Because he might be a witness, you mean?’ Holly put the question.
‘Exactly. In fact, the more I think about John’s reading of the murder site, the more convinced I am that he was right. It’s odds on this Beezy actually caught sight of the killer. That’s why he ran for it, dropping some of his belongings on the way. God alone knows where he is now. Not in our hands, that’s for certain.’ The chief inspector glowered. He caught Bennett’s eye.
‘Yes, sir, I’m sorry. Briefly, then, all we can say for sure about our killer at this stage is that he’s not Beezy – who was in Surrey for all of July, moving about within a relatively small area, and who’s most unlikely to have had a bottle of chloroform about his person – and that in all likelihood he owns a car. In hindsight, it seems probable that both girls were picked up on the road – one between Brookham and Craydon, the other near Bognor Regis. How he persuaded them to get into his car we can only speculate, but once there he could have used the chloroform to render them senseless.’
As Sinclair paused to clear his throat, Holly interrupted.
‘You say she vanished in July, the girl at Bognor Regis. Have the police been searching for her since then?’
‘The answer to that question is no, Arthur. Though you may well ask it. The child wasn’t even reported missing until a week ago. It’s an extraordinary story. Believe it if you can.’ The chief inspector shook his head. ‘Her parents are circus people. Not performers, her mother runs a sideshow, but they travel all over the south coast during the summer months and they happened to be at Bognor Regis when the child went missing. Except it wasn’t recognized as such at the time. She’d had a row with her mother and the man they were living with – the girl’s father had gone off some time before, he doesn’t figure in this – and announced that she was leaving to go and spend some time with an aunt of hers who worked in another circus that was performing in Eastbourne at the time. It was something she’d done before, apparently, and for much the same reason.
‘Before?’ The chief superintendent was incredulous. ‘And how old was this girl? Twelve or so?’
‘No… and that’s an interesting point.’ Sinclair tugged at an earlobe. ‘Marigold Hammond was fourteen, but she looked younger. This killer seems drawn to girls before they reach puberty.’ He caught Holly’s look. ‘Yes, I know, Arthur, even fourteen seems too young, but all I can tell you is it doesn’t seem to have bothered her mother when she packed a suitcase and announced she was off to catch the bus to Eastbourne.’
‘But when she didn’t hear from her…?’
‘There again…’ Sinclair shook his head in despair. ‘We have to understand… these people live their lives differently from you and me. They’ve no telephone to ring up with, and I doubt they correspond by letter. Mrs Hammond just assumed her daughter had joined up with her aunt in Eastbourne and only discovered six weeks later that she’d never appeared there, at which point she reported her missing. The circus she was with had moved on to Devon by then, but she came back to Bognor Regis to help the police, who began searching right away. It took them a further week to find the girl’s body.’
‘I’ll be blowed!’ Holly was speechless.
Bennett cleared his throat. ‘What next, Chief Inspector? Where do we go from here? I take it you don’t plan to interfere with the Sussex investigation?’
‘Oh, no, sir. Nor the one in Surrey. As I said, they still have to find the tramp. We may yet have a witness to the Brookham killing. For the time being our best role would be one of coordination. I plan myself to go down to Sussex tomorrow to talk to the officers conducting that investigation. God knows I don’t envy them. The trail must be stone cold by now.’
‘What about the Henley angle? The girl whose body was found in the Thames? Do you mean to take any action over that?’
‘Yes, I do, sir. Mind you, it’s still a sensitive issue. I’ve spoken to the Oxfordshire police. They’re no longer inclined to treat it as a case of accidental death. But they’re undecided as to how to launch an investigation, particularly with the body in the state it’s in. However, I’ve been informed confidentially that they plan to open a murder inquiry soon. Once it’s official, they’ll be only too pleased to accept our help. In the meantime, I’ve told them we’d like to sniff around discreetly, and they’ve informed the Henley police accordingly. I’m sending a man down there tomorrow.’
Bennett glanced at his watch. ‘I can give you another three minutes, Chief Inspector. Where do we stand with the press?’
‘Like us, they’re sniffing around, sir.’ Sinclair shut his file. ‘They didn’t make too much of the Brookham murder, thankfully. But with this latest body discovered and the Yard called in, they’re bound to take an interest. Still, the subject’s not an easy one for the newspapers t
o handle. Sexual crimes involving children are something we all instinctively shy away from, and their readers are no different. So far, published details concerning the facial injuries have been kept to a minimum, and if my wishes are heeded that will continue. Needless to say, they’ve no idea yet that the inquiry might stretch back several years. That’s something I’d particularly like to keep from them. We’ll have to see how we go.’
Bennett nodded. ‘Very well. That will do for now.’ He rose. ‘Gentlemen…’
As they walked back to their offices Holly’s broad brow creased in a frown.
‘Do you really feel it’s worth pursuing this Henley business, Angus? The connection seems very iffy to me.’
‘Perhaps. But I want to get to the bottom of it, just the same. There’s a good chance this man may have been active for longer than we think, and if that proves to be the case, it puts a quite different complexion on things.’ The memory of his conversation with Franz Weiss not long since was still vivid in the chief inspector’s mind.
‘Well, I wish you luck.’ They had reached the chief superintendent’s office and he paused at the door. ‘Who are you sending down, anyway?’
‘An officer I’ve had my eye on for some time now, a detective sergeant.’ Sinclair opened the door for his superior. ‘Come to think of it, he did his first serious work under Madden. John thought very highly of him.’
‘I’m duly impressed.’ The chief super’s deep laugh rumbled in the corridor. ‘Now all I need to know is his name.’
‘Why, it’s Styles, of course.’ Sinclair smiled broadly. ‘Billy Styles. I thought you’d have remembered that, Arthur.’
11
The traffic that morning was light, and Billy was glad of it. The old Morris he’d been allocated from the Yard’s car pool had tired gears and a tendency to stall. Not that he was complaining, mind you. Still clear in his memory were the days when motor cars provided for the use of detectives had been rarer than unicorns.