by Gavin Graham
By the grace of God or the luck of The Devil, Siobhan had survived her ordeal at the hands of The Casanova Killer. Had he used a knife, she’d be a goner, but the sadistic lunatic had clearly been tamed during his time at Broadmoor.
“Right, lady!” McGreavy growled. “Time to do some explaining…”
She opened her eyes, abruptly, looking up with surprise from a hospital bed in a secure holding facility. “Boss…”
“Don’t bloody Boss me. So, you’re a serial killer and a devil-worshiping Satanist? We need to hear your side of the story, girl, everything…”
“OK, Boss, I was part of a cult, The Order of the Black Chapter. My father, you see, he’s a Minister…” she began to explain.
McGreavy recalled now, that Minister who’d come forward, the one he’d met in the pub, so secretive he’d been about not giving his full name, he suddenly had a strong inclination that he was Siobhan’s father, there was even a family resemblance although he hadn’t recognised it at the time.
“My dad and his brother, they came from a very devout family, Christian to the core. My uncle took part in everything until it drove him crazy and he became obsessed with teachings of the occult, Satanism and stuff related to Black Magic. He abandoned the family and went to live in isolation in Wales. He was the one that got me wrapped up in various evil doctrines at a young age and it was the cult who gave me a taste for murder and human sacrifice.”
“What the hell were you thinking? You’re a bloody Detective!”
“I wasn’t thinking, I was possessed, something took control of me…”
“Moffat? The Casanova Killer?”
“He got so into my head, it all started that day at Loch Lomond when he killed that Edinburgh woman and was dismembering her corpse as we arrived. Our eyes met, just for a moment, and that was it…”
“How bloody romantic, so he really is a Casanova after all, is that it?”
“He’s a demonic force, John is, he has this power over women, it’s not of this world, it is truly of the occult. I was so stricken by his spell that I believed it was my destiny, to be what I became, to become like those that I knew so well. I was open to it, really, the whole thing must have been brewing inside me for such a long time, years and years…”
“Those that you knew so well?”
“I was always obsessed with the criminal mind, it was my job to know it, the killer’s profile, but at some point, I realised that I was merely attempting to profile myself – my own killer within. I started to see a distinct affinity between those monsters and myself. The summers I spent in Wales were filled with all kinds of deviance. Sex. Murder. All the occult practices that I’d been privy to, in secrecy, carrying it around, it was too much, I was damaged goods. The burden of my secrets, of my sins, I was in denial about it all. I tried to block it out and ignore it, but that kind of thing festers like a spreading disease and it rots away at your soul until there’s nothing left, nothing but pure evil. Then, one day, you do something unthinkable. The killer inside is reawakened and it craves murder like nothing else. You shock yourself, because you enjoy it, and you commit yourself to killing more people, again and again and again…to recreate that buzz…that thrill…that feeling of power…until…”
“Until, you get caught…”
“Yes, exactly…I knew you’d understand, Boss…”
McGreavy smirked. “Why did you pick those people to kill?”
“Well, that’s another story. They were all part of a paedophile ring when I was a wee girl, that’s primarily how The Order recruits, they target those who’ve been abused as boys and girls, by those monsters who still act like they are pillars of society. All of them, in some way, were connected to the Church community. The Order used it as proof, that they were the evil ones, the ones that lived in secrecy and were protected by the so-called word of God, hiding behind the veil of community work, the do-gooders, pretending to be holier than thou. They said that they would never be punished, unless the outcasts stood up and took affirmative action, to kill them, to teach them a lesson and make them understand that evil deeds will never be forgiven, that one day the Great Avenger will strike, and that they can never, ever be camouflaged from the gaze of the all-seeing eye.”
“Jesus, Siobhan, so you were interfered with?”
“A P.E. teacher at school was the one who roped me in, he said I was being scouted for an elite gymnastics programme, that I could try out for the Olympics. I was young and stupid and he was a nasty old pervert, drooling over me in my gym pants, touching me in inappropriate ways. I never saw it then, but he was a fucking deviant bastard, he deserved to die.”
“What did he do, exactly?”
“He invited me over, to his house, to discuss the programme. The stand-in janitor was there, he was an agent, apparently, and would handle the legal and contractual side of things, for my new career as a professional athlete.”
“You killed him as well?”
“Yes, in the Church, they said the competition was so strong, see, that it wasn’t always the most talented girls that got selected but the ones that were willing to be friends with them. They asked me to perform a stretching routine on the floor and said I should remove my clothes. I did it all, and they kept manipulating me until I was completely naked on the carpet, that was when the teacher came from behind and said if we could be very close friends that he’d make sure I got the very best chance possible of going to the Olympics. He was on his knees behind me, I remember the bad smell of his breath and his heavy breathing, he pulled me close to him and caressed my behind, telling me that I was a beautiful girl. Then, he unzipped, and suddenly I started to cry as I knew what he really wanted. He raped me, there and then, just started to use my body and push himself into me, he was so strong, it was so painful, I couldn’t fight him off, I was crying and bleeding, but he over-powered me and told me to be quiet, so eventually I didn’t even try to struggle. I just wanted to do something good, Boss, to achieve something, to make my parents really proud. I thought I’d just have to persevere with it and nobody would have to know, that it would be my secret, to keep to myself till the day I died.”
“Christ, what a shower of fucking monsters…” McGreavy almost sounded sympathetic. “You should have done the right thing, you should have gone to the Police, Siobhan, this wasn’t the answer.”
“What the fuck would you know about it? Really, huh?”
The Inspector bowed his head, for he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like for her to experience such a trauma, as a vulnerable child, putting trust into her elders and her peers. Deep inside, he was hating the victims for what they’d done, and he took pity on Siobhan for she too was a victim in her own way.
“Last time I saw that P.E. teacher, I told him, I said one day I’m going to come back and burn your children and leave them to rot in a garbage bin. He just laughed at me, made a stupid face, mocking me. I hated him. They were all involved, the people I chose to kill, they were being punished for their sins, so it was all justified. Isn’t that what your illustrious Professor told you to look for? Not the reason, but the justification?”
“And these rituals?”
“Our ceremonial abolishment of the corpses was our retribution for their modern-day sins. One day, they asked who’d be a willing candidate, I knew it would be me, don’t ask me how, but like I said, it was my destiny. The entire cult turned and looked at me, they knew it too, I was the perfect candidate to be The Unsung Satanist, the perfect killer…”
“You did the cult proud, eh?”
“Don’t mock, as long as you mock me, you’re just as bad as them.”
“I think we’ve heard enough, Siobhan, you’re clearly a very sick young lady. Perhaps they’ll put you in Moffat’s old cell in Broadmoor, wouldn’t that be ironic? And they say that romance is dead, perhaps not, after all…” McGreavy turned and looked at the rest of the team, stood their silent. They were confused, emotional and furious all at the same tim
e. “You lot aren’t saying very much, what’s it to be then?”
McGhee was the one to speak up. “A drink, Boss, I think I need a drink to get this nasty taste out of my mouth.”
“Aye,” the Boss agreed and looked back at Siobhan, unknown to him, The Swede was winking at her from behind the Inspector’s back and blowing her a wee kiss.
Much to the Inspector’s dismay, Siobhan smiled as they left the room.
Chapter 84
A final drink
No matter what happens in life, be it good or bad, you have to move on and embrace the future…
“Siobhan, I never would have expected her to be the killer in a million years, I always thought she was a good person, a dedicated Detective,” Colin commented, taking a sip of his Irn-Bru.
“Aye,” Robbie added, it was just the three of them now, “she was a good girl.”
“Was she good in the sack?” Colin smirked, he was a quiet lad, but could still shock you at times with crass comments.
Jimmy slammed his glass on the table, his eyes raging.
“Enough of that, Colin,” Mac gave the youngster an avuncular glare as he gloated over his timely jab.
“Uch, everybody knew it, what’s that big deal?”
“Everybody? Oh great, now the whole world is going to know I’ve got a thing for Satanic serial killers? Bloody wonderful, they’ll be lining up at my bedroom door now, will they?” The Swede managed a cheeky smirk.
Colin laughed. “Any thoughts on a replacement, Boss?”
“Well it’s a bit soon, but yes, I’ve already received five or six CVs. It seems that quite a few people are keen to work on our little team here in this mean old city, we’ve got a bit of a reputation, it would seem.”
“Any that catch your eye?”
“Aye, a wee Irish lass, a Detective with the Garda’s Special Branch, an expert on human behaviour they say, which intrigues me, a bit of a criminal genius she seems to be. I think she’s just the type of wee lassie we need around here.”
“You said that about Siobhan, for fuck sake,” Colin said. “Look how she turned out?”
“Aye, true enough, I do believe Jimmy said that as well though,” Mac and Colin both looked at The Swede as he caught his sniffer in a pint of Stella and rolled his eyes.
They all shared another wee smirk and a chuckle.
“Well, you know what they say, Boys?”
“What’s that?” they both asked their illustrious leader.
“If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry…and the tears will spoil your beer…”
Colin nodded. “True words, Boss, true words indeed.”
“Aye, true words, Boss,” agreed The Swede.
And, after it was all said and done, there wasn’t much else left to say on the matter…
THE END
Also by Gavin Graham
Gavin is also an ardent writer of short-stories in the genre of crime noir & pathological psychopathy. You might enjoy the following titles:
The Taste of Blood: 5 tales of sex & murder to keep you up all night
The River Man: A diabolical murder tale about the legend of a Mississippi hangman
Killer on the Train: A dark tale of sadism, psychological torture & serial murder
Remember to subscribe to the Mad Skull MAILING LIST to be sure that you get all new updates and information regarding the next Glasgow Noir release which will be an exciting new series of full-sized, individual thrillers…
https://mailchi.mp/madskullpublishing.com/mailinglist