by J K Nen
Jamie ignored her. She looked at Logan’s dead family. Surprisingly, the boy spoke first.
‘I’m Joshua, Lisa’s brother.”
“How long have you known about Paulette Tamate’s location?” Logan repeated.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jamie replied, her tone cryptic. “She doesn’t have much time.”
“You’re right. So where is she?”
“I’ll show you.”
“No, you’re not. You better tell me or I’ll lock you up for impeding a police investigation.”
“Fine, talk to my lawyer then.”
Logan sighed, defeated.
“You know Logan, Joshua says to stop blaming yourself for how he left,” she said.
“Joshua?”
“Yes, your brother Joshua,” Jamie replied, her eyes bored into Logan’s. “The boy had such an ethereal beauty, he was nicknamed Angel Face.”
Logan was flummoxed.
“How do you know all this?”
“A powerful curse killed your entire family,” Jamie said solemnly. “First your dad, then your mum and finally your brother. They’re coming for you now.”
“This is nonsense,’ Logan snapped. “I’ve got a murderer to catch.”
“The nightmares are no accident. He’ll remain faceless, but when you do see his face, you’ll die.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Logan muttered, but her ashen complexion said otherwise.
“He chases you through the clearing, right up to the creek where your father drowned. He carries a machete. Freddie Kruger may be Hollywood fiction but what’s happening to you isn’t.”
Logan flinched. Jamie knew she had hit a nerve.
“You are too afraid to sleep. It will cost you your job, the people you love and before long, the only recourse you will feel like you have left is to take your own life. And it will make you feel that suicide is so right, even beautiful, like a thing of honour.”
Logan’s knees buckled. She sank onto the sofa.
“Let me do something for you,” Jamie offered. “It will help you sleep.”
“I don’t believe in drugs,” Logan answered brusquely.
“You are not going to eat or drink anything,” Jamie insisted and before Logan could protest, pulled her into the tiny kitchen.
As Logan watched, she poured coconut oil and a foul smelling paste into a small jar of clay, adding spices and a variety of dried bark and leaves. It took her less than five minutes to prepare a potion. She then chanted over the potion, then ushered Logan to the sofa. She daubed the clay ointment over Logan’s face. Logan’s vision swam and before she could comprehend what was happening, she fell asleep.
“How long ago have I been asleep?” Logan asked when she woke up.
“Two hours,” Jamie replied, wiping off the clay Logan’s face with a damp face towel.
“I feel like I slept all day,” Logan yawned, stretching as she stood to leave.
“What I’ve done is a temporary fix,” Jamie explained. “When the nightmare starts again, you need to return to the place your father died to fix it permanently.”
When Logan had initially entered the building, she had been irate and uptight. Now she emerged, relaxed and calm. Her mobile buzzed.
“Please tell me something good,” Logan told Sedgewick.
“All victims, had crystal balls in their homes. The tech guys took them apart. And get this, all the crystal balls have 360 cameras. It is likely the one you got from Jamie Maddox will have the same.”
CHAPTER 27
Like Sedgewick, French spent the night at the Centre, reading up on pagan rites in goddess worship. The religious undertones in the way Z staged his dumping grounds and his poems hovered on the fringes of her subconscious. The more she tried to establish a pattern, the more elusive it became. Frustrated by the mental block, she went for her morning run at dawn.
As she neared a church down the block, French noticed two elderly women polishing a statue of Archangel Michael as they prepared to attend morning prayers. The rhythmic pounding of her feet ran to a mantra in her head. Archangel. Archangel.
As she increased her speed, the tempo in her head kept time. Archangel. Archilles. Archibald. Archetype.
“That’s it!” she shouted, oblivious to frowns of other early morning runners.
She raced back to her office and headed straight to her desk. She Googled ‘ Archetypes’ and almost collapsed from sheer relief. Google yielded an exhaustive list of Jungian theories of archetypes. However, the goddess personality theory flashed like a neon signboard. Jungians believed the a woman’s psyche was influenced by two or more of the by seven goddess archetypes embedded in ancient Greek mythology. Their thinking, emotions and behaviour depended on the dominant goddess archetype. Dr Jean Shinoda-Bolen’s book, Goddesses in Everywoman, was available online. French quickly ordered the e-book.
As she read, French was convinced Z’s staging of the crime scenes paid homage to the dominant goddesses in the victims. She tacked up charts on the walls, with the poems and set about reading and notetaking. Z selected his victims based on the archetype. How he knew which archetype each victim was did not matter right now.
Adele Rose, logical self-assured woman executive, ruling with her head rather than her heart, typified Athena, goddess of wisdom and craft. To her Z had written:
Mama stood by His side for the Council commune
Women’s Lib kissed Hades as Daddy’s head bore her immune
To the charms of men save the owl on her arm and olive branch
As she wove her web around His throne as one would a trench
As French read the legend of the Olympian goddess, she noted the obvious parallels. Like Athena, Adele was a brilliant strategist, engineering mergers and hostile takeovers with ease. The goddess presided over battle strategy in wartime. Unlike other goddesses, Athena was born out of Zeus’s head, an adult in full body armour. As Zeus’s right hand woman, she defended him and other male gods. She enjoyed their patronage and was very protective of her male benefactors. Like Athena, Rose was close to her father, supported her male colleagues, and shunned feminist groups.
From ancient portraits, the armour-clad Athena carried a spear in one hand and spindle in another. She gave Athens the olive tree as a special gift. The owl represented Athena’s wisdom. Then there was the story of mortal woman Arachne who challenged Athena as goddess of crafts to a weaving contest. Athena admired her flawless work, but Arachne’s downfall was the story told in her tapestry, showing how Zeus seduced various women. In fury, Athena turned Arachne into a spider, doomed to spin for eternity.
When Z staged Adele’s body in the war room setting, he doused her with olive oil. The large rubber spider confirmed the poem’s reference to spider webs. That Adele wove tapestry as a hobby was no surprise.
French attributed Janine Maher’s personality to Artemis, goddess of the hunt and moon. Like her goddess archetype, Janine was independent, and achievement-oriented, logical and self- assured. Like Artemis wandering the forests with her nymphs and hunting dogs, Maher trekked and camped in the wild. In an attempt to pay homage to Athena’s prowess as an excellent archer, Z had slung a quiver across Maher’s back and taped a bow to her hands.
Artemis’ lioness symbol took the form of a lioness pendant on a necklace on Maher’s body and a silver bear charm on her wrist. Maher the activist fought for causes dear to her. Outdoorsy and competitive, she could be destructive as the Mafia discovered, and protective, case in point being the farmers she represented. Z referenced the wild boar in his ode, Artemis symbol.
Mama hunted by His side in the Moonlight mild;
Fierce as the lioness, destructive like the wild boar
As her hounds bayed for the blood of the wild
Firing her arrows at the beloved Sun so true
French could barely contain her excitement as she built the profiles.
Hestia, goddess of the hearth, the patient and steady deity who found comfo
rt in solitude, was dominant in Joan Stacks. Like Hestia, Joan worked to ensure her surroundings struck a spiritual balance. She loved peace and solitude in a beautiful home. Like Hestia, Joan was not ambitious. She enjoyed what she did, and in the process, reaped financial rewards. She avoided aggressive marketing campaigns and sold her wares from the comfort of her own home. She even gave up her marriage for peace and solitude.
Z staged her in beautiful clothing and expensively furnished settings, like Hestia would have done. The goddess was Zeus’ sister. They were children of Kronos, an entity usually confused with Cronos, the personification of time. Like most people, Z had incorrectly associated Cronos with time in his poem.
Time spawned her to pay homage to the Father from the Hearth
Looking within for the fire to keep the Sanctuary
Craving solitude in the wilderness belly of Mother Earth
Wholeness being the core of her intuition
The domestic goddess concept, it seemed, was as old as Greek mythology.
Evelyn Winters’ obsession with her husband had to be a personification of Hera, queen of the gods and the goddess of marriage. Hera represented women who considered their roles secondary to the essential goal of finding a husband and being married. Like Winters, Hera’s unwavering commitment to her husband and her marriage, drove her to strike out in jealous rage at women unfortunate enough to be involved with her husband, even when he was at fault.
Z left several clues with Winters’ body. Hera’s symbols included the cow, the Milky Way and lilies. He alluded to the Little Dipper and Big Dipper, based on the legend of Calisto, whom Zeus seduced after tricking her. Hera changed Calisto into a bear, and then tried to get her own son to kill her. Zeus rescued them by placing them in the sky as the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper.
To her Z had written:
Father won her over with little truth;
But she got him back through the Little and Big Dipper
She breathed vindication with bears and madness
For unlike the others, she remains a keeper
Although Paulette Tamate had been missing less than twenty-four hours, the interviews with her family painted a picture of her as a hovering mother. The beautiful, athletic and sexy Polynesian prioritised her children over everything else. French attributed to her, Demeter, the goddess of grain and the maternal archetype. Demeter represented a woman’s drive to provide physical and spiritual sustenance for her children. French studied one of the poems Z had sent.
She had not a care save the fruit of the womb;
With divine beautify and savory fragrance she gifts the grain
That grief could send gods and man to the tomb
But her joy changes as the seasons strain
According to Greek lore, Demeter was Zeus’ fourth wife. Hades, god of the underworld, kidnapped her daughter, Persephone. In her search for her daughter, Demeter would not eat, sleep or even bathe. She left Olympus to wander the earth, disguised as an old woman. Her grief literally stopped the seasons, igniting a famine as plants stopped growing. She would not restore the seasons unless Persephone was returned to her. As humans fought for survival, temples and worship fell into neglect. Zeus sent word to Hades to return Persephone. However, before she left the underworld, Hades gave her pomegranate seeds to eat, compelling her to return to him every year. Earth experiences spring and summer when Demeter and Persephone are reunited. But when Persephone returns to the underworld, Demeter’s pall of grief precipitates autumn and winter. Such was the love Demeter had for her child. French did not need a crime scene to complete the picture.
Jamila Maddox was an enigma that French struggled with. From their initial meeting, French thought she typified Persephone, maiden and queen of the underworld - compliant, passive and eager to please. French studied the ode she believed Z had written for Persephone.
In her basket the maiden carries pomegranates and corn
From her throne flows seasons of hope and renewal
That in pain from the breast from which she was torn
Reunion breathes joy unspeakable like a jewel
Persephone’s symbols included the pomegranate, grain and corn. She and her mother were inseparable. It was possible that Z had been chasing Jamie as Persephone. However, Jamie Maddox had somehow mutated herself from Persephone to Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty.
Aphrodite, the ‘alchemical’ goddess governed a woman’s enjoyment of love and beauty, sexuality and sensuality, impelling women to fulfil both creative and procreative functions. Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus and sea nymph Dione, was born an adult, emerging from the sea in a seashell, blown by sea winds in a shower of roses. Beautiful and sensual, she picked the men she liked, whether gods or mortals, and when done, discarded them. She killed anyone who resisted her advances.
The Jamie Maddox she had met yesterday was nothing like the girl/woman from the first encounter. She projected self-confidence and sensuality, a sexy siren.
Z’s ode describing Aphrodite’s character followed the gist of the legend.
Convention had no place in conquests made for lust
Beauty and charm encased in a shell amidst a shower of rose petals
She will not be possessed by man or gods as all must
That those who spurn her die as should all mortals
French thought if Jamie perplexed her, it was highly likely that Z himself was just as confused.
French video called Logan.
CHAPTER 28
From the beginning, the team had suspected Z was a Greek history enthusiast but French’s explanation of the parallels between the goddess archetypes and the victims boggled the mind.
“So he fancies himself a king of the gods, Zeus, if you will,” Naidu’s observation dripped acid.
“But you would have to be in close contact with these women to know the archetype they match,” Shepherd pointed out.
“That’s why we keep digging for the common link that allowed him to get close enough to know which archetype each victim was,” Logan answered, calling the meeting to an end.
Naidu and Davidson continued to watch Jamie Maddox. Shepherd and Chee assisted Steele and Logan with interviewing Paulette Tamate’s family and associates. Burns and Spiteri had the day off after pulling in the night shift.
Logan looked and felt much better after six hours of uninterrupted, refreshing sleep. Just as Maddox predicted. She shrugged. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her family’s misfortune, not old wives’ tales about curses.
At the Command Centre, Sedgewick had a nap in the bunker. Living on takeaway and less than four hours of sleep took its toll on her. She had spent most of the night, trawling all six women’s social media accounts to identify common subscriptions. When her alarm went off two hours later, she freshened up with a shower and dressed for the day.
Sedgewick checked her emails. Nothing yet from the field team. She took her ten-minute zone-out time, a treat she allowed herself before doing any work. She usually watched YouTube videos or played with Photo Editor. Now, she opened the file photo of the shoe print at Greta Szach’s crime scene. She clicked on the black and white tab and stopped short.
A detail that had not been there in colour appeared. A serial number and logo. When she enlarged the picture, she immediately recognized half of the logo: Picasso.
She had bought her father a pair of shoes for his fifty-fifth birthday two years ago. Each handmade pair had its own signature, usually a serial number of six digits imprinted in the soles. In this photo, only the last three digits 675 were visible. Sedgwick called Logan.
When Logan returned, Sedgewick had the documents ready to apply for a search warrant.
“Picasso’s a high-end, leather goods manufacturer. Everything in their shop is handmade and personalised. Each customer gets a number that is embossed on any item he buys - belts, wallets or shoes, the same number goes on everything. This number can be traced back to the customer details they have on file.”
“Wow, sounds really expensive,” Logan observed. “Are they Australian?”
“They’re Italian but they’ve a shop in Melbourne, and of course, an online store.”
“I’ll call Melbourne police,” Logan replied, too afraid to hope in case the lead got nowhere.
“Commissioner Castle already did.”
As the team filed in, it was not lost on them that almost thirty-six hours had passed since Paulette Tamate’s abduction. The media backlash was vicious. To avoid the press, Castle came to work at four that morning. With Sedgewick’s lead, she called the Commissioner of Melbourne Police to get a judge to issue an urgent warrant. Melbourne police were on their way to Picasso.
“Yes!” Sedgwick shouted from her workspace.
“Put it up on the screen,” Logan did not need to ask what she had discovered.
Sedgewick’s fingers flitted over the keyboard and within seconds, the gigantic consoles carried images of the crystal balls, the disassembled crystal balls and tiny cameras.
“Lab confirmed all crystal balls had built-in micro-cameras with 360-degree rotational focus hidden within the ball. That means you get the entire room’s view. Z probably recorded them twenty-four-seven,” she reported as quickly ran through the attached report.
