The Stalking of Louise Copperfield

by Robert W Fisk

  “I’ll be in a committee meeting from one to three,” he might say. At times when he was busily engaged, which were frequent, he switched his phone to silent mode and later summarised her text messages, sending Charlotte one email or text with a reply to each point. He wondered if Charlotte was making sure he did not have an affair but concluded that she was just a control freak.

  Charlotte was usually discreet in her relationships and might go some time without a lover. Nigel appeared to accept the situation; as long as he did not know, he seemed happy. Sometimes, Nigel might say, ‘I don’t like that fellow you are keeping company with. Do you think you are safe with him?” Then Charlotte might end the affair, or make it more discreet.

  On the night of the party Charlotte had been between lovers. Sex with Nigel was good at that time, but sex with a lover was better, so she was pleased when she met Bruno, who was tall where Nigel was short, flamboyant where Nigel was discreet, and young. Charlotte liked them young. Bruno was up for it and soon had her behind the couch where they could not be seen. It did not occur to her that they could be seen from above by anyone on the stairs.

  Bruno kissed passionately. Charlotte did not like Nigel’s kisses and usually turned from him when he made overtures with a kiss. She was a physical lover, aroused by sight and touch, and Bruno was a good match for her. Perhaps she would soon leave Nigel, Charlotte thought, because he was so busy and so pre-occupied that he had little time for her.

  Bruno quickly had her bra undone and one breast exposed for his finger to trace lightly around the nipple. ‘Making a mountain out of a molehill,’ he said to her giggles.

  It was exciting behind the couch where they might be discovered at any time, that sensation adding to Charlotte’s arousal. Charlotte knew what would happen next and was about to suggest that she and Bruno find an empty bedroom when she saw Nigel taking Louise up the stairs. Louise appeared to be drunk, leaning on Nigel; leaning all over him in fact. She felt a surge of jealousy.

  “What’s wrong Babe?” mumbled Bruno, who was busily engaged.

  “Nothing, Bruno Bunny,” she whispered. “Now. Do it now.”

  When Nigel returned down the stairs, Charlotte was on her hands and knees with her head down and her blonde hair over her eyes so she did not see him. Louise had taken her man away, just as she had taken Mr Bannister away when they were at High School. Shitty cow. She’d pay for that. She wouldn't confront her. As she had done about Mr Bannister, she would get even by making Louise's life a misery.

  She would start by spraying Charlotte’s lawn with weed killer. She would do it in patches that looked like an infestation of grass grub or porina caterpillar. Cancelling Louise’s credit cards would cause consternation too. That would be a hard task but Charlotte thought she could find a way to gain access to Louise’s account. It meant visiting Louise regularly and waiting for her opportunity to use Louise’s computer.

  CHAPTER 11.

  Louise would not have gone to the police had it not been for Father Larkin. He came to her door early in the morning. It was still holiday time but Frank had gone off for a meeting about the new project, a meeting with a Chinese man call She Way. Almost as if he had been watching, Father Raymond Larkin knocked on the door as Frank left.

  “Good morning, Mrs Copperfield, Louise,” said Father Larkin. “I hope I am not intruding this bright and sunny morning. I left you yesterday with advice but no support. I am here today to support you if that is needed.”

  Louise was taken aback. She was torn between reporting the date rape to the police or simply living with the horrifying experience, simply adding it to the baggage she was already carrying. She had been grateful for Father Larkin understanding her inner feelings; in fact, she could not believe that she had told the young priest everything. Almost equally surprising were his sympathy and support.

  Louise asked Kezia to mind Alexander while she went with Father Larkin. She was not sure just what Kezia was thinking but thought that there was no way Kezia could fathom it all out, although the discussion of spiking drinks might have been a clue.

  First they went to the main police station. Father Larkin asked for a female officer who could talk to his companion.

  “Hello, I am Detective Constable Jayne Hyslop,” said the young woman who came into the reception area.

  Jayne looked to be in her thirties, perhaps younger by the clothes she was wearing. Beside her, Louise felt unfashionable, out of date, not that she ever wanted to be anything other than herself. Jayne had a lovely wide smile that made her eyes sparkle. She was about four inches taller than Louise, making Louise wonder how such a small female could handle the demands of being a police officer. Louise was very nervous but the female detective quickly put her at ease.

  “Just call me Jayne or DC Hyslop,” she said. “I know this is difficult for you, but if people don’t take a stand, then bad things will continue to happen.”

  “Hello. I am Louise Copperfield. I don’t want my husband to know anything,” said Louise.

  “Come into an interview room where we can talk woman to woman,” said Jayne, smiling at Father Larkin. “Perhaps you would like a cup of tea in the Public Canteen, Father?”

  Father Larkin took the hint and made his way to the small room made available for the public to make a hot drink at a vending machine that had been set to give free drinks.

  Jayne Hyslop summed up her client quickly. Late thirties? Attractive but bowed down with something. Grief? Smaller than Jayne, and petite. Lovely blonde hair and blue eyes. With a priest? So religious and prepared to confess? Had she murdered her husband? Jayne stopped by the interview room door and ushered Louise in.

  In the interview room, Jayne said, “All right. Now is the time to tell me about your problem.”

  Louise spoke all in a rush. “I went to a business partner’s party with my husband Frank. I had four wines and a Coca Cola. I fell asleep and woke up in a strange bed. My daughter thinks I was drugged with BHG or something.”

  Louise deliberately did not mention Larcombe chatting her up. It would break up her husband’s partnership with him. Or maybe not.

  “GHB,” said Jayne. “Gamma Hydroxybutyrate. It’s called the Club Drug, although some other drugs are called by the same name. Rohypnol is more common here with our student population.”

  “I thought GHB was General Hospital Board,” said Louise with a laugh. “I really know nothing about that scene at all.”

  “We have to get you examined,” said Jayne. “This will be discrete but you will need to have advice about STDs. Know what they are?”

  Louise looked puzzled. “No,” she said. “Is that about telephones?”

  “Sexually Transmitted Diseases,” said Jayne. “I don’t want to alarm you and the lady doctor will tell you more, but there is a risk even if a condom is used.”

  It was a statement and a question.

  “I’ve got the condom,” said Louise in a matter of fact voice that made Jayne burst out laughing.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” said Jayne. ”It’s just that you come in here having been raped, because I think that is what happened. Instead of falling apart, you are as cool as a cucumber, and had the presence of mind to rescue the condom. You are brilliant!”

  “Oh, I’m not. I forgot the face cloth. It was on my face. I left it behind, I’m sorry,” said Louise.

  Louise looked at her watch and wondered if she had made the right decision. Her intention had been to simply hand over the used condom and the stained panties but DC Hyslop had been so supportive that she felt she should go along with her suggestion for a full examination.

  “I’ve got his underpants, too,” said Louise. “He wiped himself clean then left them for me to put in the laundry bag.”

  Jayne laughed out loud and clapped her hands in delight at Louise’s joke. This lady was one brave female. If this case went to Court, the perpetrator had no chance.

  “Louise, perpetrators of date rape often cover their victi
m’s eyes in case the woman wakes up or recognises them. The first thing a woman would do would be to remove the cloth, which is in effect a blindfold, telling the criminal that consciousness is returning. That’s when things can egt violent.”

  “No, there was no violence,” said Louise. “I wasn’t hurt physically but I don’t think anyone could have hurt me more inside than by doing that.”

  “I want you to think carefully,” Jayne said. “Has anyone been stalking you, or grooming you? You know, presents and compliments, maybe some poetry? Or just always being there?”

  Louise said, “No. I get the kids off to school, do the housework, go to work, come home and look after the kids and get dinner ready. Weekends, big clean of the house, change the beds, washing, you know the kind of stuff.”

  Jayne knew only too well the workload of a working wife. Professionally it had been easier to keep her maiden name of Hyslop after she married Bernard Smith. Both being police officers meant long hours often on different shifts, weekends spent catching up on household chores, and a feeling of being constantly tired. She envied Louise her family life. She and Bernard wanted a baby but as each month went by with no result, she became more and more concerned that it might not happen.

  “Look, if something like that starts, if there are unexplained incidents, please call me,” she said. “Ready to go to the hospital clinic now?”

  Father Larkin was waiting in the Canteen. When Louise told him she needed to go to the hospital for an examination, he said that he would make some ward visits while he was at the hospital. The three walked along to the hospital. Father Larkin waited until Louise had given the receptionist her reasons for being at the clinic and then he sat with her and Jayne until a doctor arrived.

  “Louise, may I come with you?” asked Jayne. Sometimes victims agreed and sometimes they did not want to share intimate details with anyone but as a female police officer she could get valuable insights into how the aggressor had acted. Leaving Father Larkin reading magazines in the reception bay, the three women, the doctor, the detective and the victim, went into a side room set up as a small clinic.

  “Heswell,” said a female doctor by way of introduction. “I understand you have had an unwanted sexual experience?”

  “That’s right,” said Louise.

  “Any injuries, bruises?” asked the doctor. “No? I think you were very lucky that you didn’t get hurt. Being unconscious does have its share of benefits, you know.”

  Louise did not understand the doctor’s joke. The doctor’s reassurance simply made her feel ill at ease.

  “Anyway, many women have to put their minds into unconscious mode when men want sex so you are not alone.”

  Jayne was not sure if the doctor’s second remark was helpful or not, but was reassured when Louise laughed. From then on the examination went well. The doctor checked that Louise was who she said then proceeded to examine Louise. The head to toe examination was embarrassing and uncomfortable. Louise was conscious of how long it was taking. She worried about leaving Kezia to look after Alexander. Frank would not be home to help because he had a meeting of some kind. She became a little agitated, which the doctor took to be a normal reaction to the intrusive examination she had to undertake in order to gain as much evidence as possible. Suddenly it was over, swabs were taken, and the panties and condom were handed over.

  “Have you and your husband had sex recently?” asked the doctor.

  “No,” said Louise, choosing not to explain further how turned off she was with Frank at the present time. He was making her life a misery. Already an over-anxious person, she was on a knife edge wondering when the next outburst would come. “Nor willingly with anyone else.”

  The doctor and the detective looked at each other over Louise’s head. They could see Louise’s strength, they could see her self-control and they admired her as a very strong woman. Their eyes met as they each thought of the implications of what Louise had said. Here was a woman in a sad relationship who was dealing with her problems alone and not seeking companionship from another male.

  “You’re doing so well, Louise,” said Jayne Hyslop. “Just a few more questions about events leading up to the abuse and we’re done.”

  DC Hyslop knew it was ‘alleged abuse’ but she was convinced that Louise had been raped. She admired Louise’s stoic attitude and her determination to do the right thing. She had advised Louise to tell Frank about the attack but Louise had become very agitated and refused. If the matter ever came to Court, and the husband found out before Louise told him she had been date raped there would be hell to pay. She had not met Frank but was forming a judgement from Louise’s answers; Frank was a passive bully who had neglected his wife when she needed him most.

  Had he been involved? ‘Teach the bitch a lesson for holding out on me?’ It was a possibility that Jayne would explore but not one she would confide to Louise.

  On the other hand, there had been reports about Rohypnol and GHB being used to stupefy students at parties. The police thought it was a student thing. There had been students at Louise’s party, but Jayne formed the impression that this was not a casual encounter by students acting stupidly. She had already asked the big questions but decided to ask again.

  “Last time, Jayne. Has anyone been grooming you or following you?”

  Louise replied, “No. I can’t think of anyone like that.”

  Back at the police station Jayne asked Louise to write a statement while she had a cup of tea in the canteen with Father Larkin. It was her chance to get a second opinion.

  “Father, I know that you cannot tell me about what Louise might have told you, but I would like your opinion of her. Do you mind?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” said Father Larkin. “What Louise told me is personal to her but she said I could speak freely to you,’ he replied. “She is a strong young woman whom I have known for several years. She loves her family. Her husband objects to her religious practices and has told me so in no uncertain terms. Louise divorced an unfaithful man and still retains guilty feelings about that. She is absolutely truthful and I believe her story is understated.”

  Jayne made her notes to add to Louise’s file. Before returning to see if Louise had finished her statement, Jayne thanked the priest for encouraging Louise to report the matter.

  “So many of these incidents go unreported,” she said. “Thank you for encouraging Louise to bring this one forward. If only people could see that by recording all the attacks, we may see a trend or a pattern that allows us to apprehend the man who is preying on women.”

  After Louise left with Father Larkin, Jayne read Louise’s statement. It was simple and straightforward, a statement with a real ring of truth, with no exaggeration and no elaboration. Jayne was determined to catch the man who had raped Louise. The first step was to analyse his DNA.

  She suddenly felt the need to go to the toilet. She took her black shoulder bag with her. She came out of the washroom area and walked to her desk with her head down.

  “Please. Baby this month,” she said aloud to herself as she returned to her desk.

  Her colleague Tracey Fox realised that Jayne had not meant to speak aloud and silently wished for a miracle. Tracey kept her head down and pretended she hadn’t heard.

  CHAPTER 12.

  Three weeks after the party, with the children back at school, Louise was shopping in the supermarket. The supermarket was an older building some distance from her house. This supermarket was always busy. So were the others that Louise could drive to. The most modern supermarket was quite a distance away, with few payment counters and always a queue for the do-it-yourself payment system, which Louise hated with a passion. It had wide aisles and expensive products, especially essential food items such as milk and bread, which always had a premium price. The supermarket she usually used was close to a veterinary clinic and a doctor’s surgery and a small clothing store. There was a café that served excellent coffee and served English Breakfast tea in a pot. It
was run by a young mother, a Cambodian who spoke little. Louise believed that was because of poor English. Parking at the small block of shops was difficult. Wahanui could certainly use another shopping mall like the one Frank was planning to build on the sports field below the hill.

  Inside the supermarket the light was dim, the shelves were tall and the aisles were narrow so Louise preferred to carry a basket around the shop as she sought the items she needed. She was reaching up to the top shelf for a tin when her hand slipped and brought down a paper wrapped packet. She expected it to hit the floor and burst open, spilling corn flour or something similar everywhere but a brown hand flashed in front of her and caught the packet.

  Louise looked in amazement at the thin arm and hand that had caught the packet. The hand and wrist were slim like a girl’s but the shirt sleeve was of a man who held his hand in front of her body for a second or two before asking, “Want?”

  “No,” said Louise. “Thanks. That would have made a mess.”

  The young man looked at her steadily, watching her lips as a deaf man does when trying to make sense of what one had said. He looked like an Arab; he was young, perhaps around Kezia’s age, with black hair topped with a small woven cap, and heavy black eyebrows over bright blue eyes. Didn’t Arabs have black eyes? He reached up and returned the packet to its shelf. It was corn flour, after all.

  “Thank you. I am Louise Copperfield,” said Louise. “What’s your name?”

  He watched her lips carefully as if reading her lips then moved his gaze to her eyes.

  “I Syria,” he said carefully. Then, quite mechanically he intoned, as if he had practised until the statement was rote, “My name Youssef. I from Syria. I eighteen years old. I student. I pleased to meet you.”

  He sounded sad and lost.

  ‘What he must have been through,’ thought Louise. She had seen on television the horrors that the bitter civil war had inflicted on the Syrian people. She felt a wave of sympathy wash over her and leave her eyes blurry with its passing.