The Alice Murders

by James Arklie

  Kline gave him the confidential bit, and Stephanos unashamedly gave Kline the Greek, ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of your company in my restaurant for a while’ reply.

  Kline acknowledged the message, then said, ‘I’m looking for abbreviations, words, names… anything.’

  Stephanos pulled up a chair, sat and took the mouse from Kline. ‘Here you have the word, ‘kali’. Means ‘good’. He flicked the arrow to and fro under the letters.

  He started twisting his head this way and that. Kline was reminded of Jenny, looking where to lay her next word when the scrabble board was turned towards him and away from her.

  The arrow waggled again. ‘Here you have the word, ‘mera’. Means morning. Taken together you have ‘kalimera’ or ‘good morning.’ A casual greeting with a stranger.’

  Or with a random investigating detective. Kline glanced at Angie, her expression intense, taking notes.

  ‘But here,’ Stephanos started the arrow going in rapid wide circles round a longer chain of letters. ‘You have a name.’

  Kline sensed them all freeze at the same moment. Or maybe they all stopped breathing. Stephanos picked up a pen and wrote the name on Kline’s pad, first in the Cyrillic script and then using the English alphabet.

  They all looked and Stephanos pronounced it, bouncing the pen tip under the word as he spoke. ‘a leeth ee aa. Aletheia.’

  Kline swallowed and waited. Angie had stopped writing and Artie definitely wasn’t breathing.

  They didn’t need a translator for this one.

  Stephanos sat back, his eyes flicking across their faces, sensing in their tension that the moment was important. ‘English equivalent is Alison.’

  Kline felt a bomb go off in his brain.

  Stephanos shrugged. ‘Or Alice.’

  *

  Kline walked Stephanos out, promising to visit the restaurant in the near future, but mainly to thank him. Stephanos was perplexed that a name could be so important. Kline warned him that sometime in the future, not only would he know the importance, but he would be required to give a statement.

  Kline raced back to the office and drew Angie and Artie closer round the image. Kline pointed at the name, thoughts were twisting and turning in his brain.

  ‘Aletheia. Game changer. We need to digest what this means.’

  Angie said, ‘He left the name Alice at his first murder?’ Her tone phrased it as a question come statement. ‘That makes no sense.’

  Kline agreed, but they had to think through what it told them. ‘I know, but logically it tells us that from day one, year one, through to year five, from the first to the last, he had this sequence of murders planned.’

  Artie didn’t believe it. ‘No way. It means he will have already known… no, chosen his victims. There’s pre-meditated, but that’s extreme. That’s a new level of killing.’

  Kline felt the now familiar cold shiver at the word ‘chosen’. Everything this man did was carefully planned. This confirmed to Kline that there was a clear plan and purpose behind every action that had happened and every event that was going to happen.

  Kline breathed, said, ‘It’s another example of his ego. He left a message for the police, telling them in advance.’

  Angie was dismissive. ‘I don’t buy it. There’s no way any detective team could have worked out that he was going to kill four more women from one name. Or that the letters of their first names would spell Alice.’

  Kline disagreed. ‘Okay, I know I’m looking at this in retrospect, but he was saying exactly that.’

  Angie still wasn’t having it. Her voice was short and sharp with the memory of a pre-meditated predator entering her life. ‘What? He was saying what?’

  ‘If you can work out why I killed this woman, then you will find out who I am. And here’s a clue as to the next four I intend to kill.’

  Angie was dragging a hand through her hair, trying to understand. ‘What? The team investigating Pappas research her background and come up with a theory or a reason for her death. They find the name Alice - and remember the Greeks will have to have been smart enough to realise that they need to translate that to the English…’

  Artie jumped in. ‘But Anastasia Pappas was English, so…’

  Angie shot him an annoyed looked. ‘And then what? They go looking into her background for names of women beginning with…..’

  Kline interrupted. ‘This is him. Ego. Confidence. You’ll never get me even if I leave clues. I am just so, so clever.’

  Angie sighed her frustration into his face. ‘But why wait five years? He lines up Evie and waits five years?’ She threw a face of apology, ‘Sorry, but…’

  Kline shook his head at that. ‘I have no idea, but look…’ He went to the whiteboard and tapped below the picture of a woman with long dark hair, a darkness that was accentuated by a face that held the grey pallor of death.

  ‘He told them where to start back then. So, we start there too, with Anastasia Pappas. She holds the clue as to why he also killed the other four.’

  Kline was about to say more when he was interrupted. Dave Barker appeared at the door to the main office. His face was thunder. His voice louder.

  ‘Kline. My office now.’ All noise and activity in the rest of the office stilled.

  He pointed at Angie. ‘And bring that bloody woman with you.’

  *

  Kline gave Angie a few hard looks as they marched out of the office. She refused to meet his eyes and kept looking straight ahead, her face and expression hard. Kline closed his eyes against what he thought was coming. They had been here before. He sensed this could be the last time.

  Dave Barker was already standing behind his desk, his anger vibrating through the air molecules between them. He leant on the desk and shouted at them before they’d fully got in and closed the door. He wasn’t worried about airing this to the whole office.

  ‘You’re suspended.’

  Kline closed the door. Breathed calmly. Realised that Barker was glaring at him. ‘Me?’

  ‘No. Fucking both of you.’ He pointed at Kline. ‘You for being an incompetent man-manager, not controlling her and for going totally outside the parameters of the investigation I gave you.’ He switched the taut anger to Angie. ‘And her…’

  Kline knew he was going to have to find a way out of this, but Angie had to be given respect. ‘DS Angie Tyler.’

  The annoyance in the eyes swung back to Kline. ‘I know who she is; it’s all over the bloody complaint.’

  Kline needed to disperse Barker’s anger. Create another pathway in his brain. Evelyn Arnold, get the latest information in front of Barker. Let him know there was progress.

  ‘The case, it’s….’

  ‘You’re still not listening. You don’t have a bloody case, because you’re not working.’

  Barker dropped heavily into his chair. It left them pinned against the door by his anger. ‘So, what is it Tyler? With you molesting young mother’s with babies?’ He reached for a report on his desk.

  ‘Three times in four days you have been photographed by mothers at the Houndwell playpark. They’ve decided to report you.’

  ‘I was trying to protect them.’ Her voice was weak, the excuse sounded thin.

  ‘Protect? They thought, think, you’re planning to steal one of their children. They have you labelled as a…’ He peered at one of the statements. ‘Potential molester or abductor. Scary the way she hangs about.’

  Kline’s eyes were drawn to Angie. He could see the tears welling up. In a few seconds they would begin their journey. Shit, he should have seen this, read it in her emotions, her actions. Instead, he was too wound up with his own crap. He’s let her have couple of hours to pursue her some leads. Barker had it right; bad team-management.

  Kline stepped in. ‘What were you doing there, Angie?’

  She shrugged and a tear released itself. ‘I’m trying to help. Keep an eye on things. Advise them, make sure they don’t turn their backs. The person who took Car
ly is still out there. You know as well as I do, there have been two more abductions since.’

  Kline wasn’t sure the best response was to criticise one of Barker’s unsolved, high profile cases. If Angie was taking shit now, Dave Barker had taken, and was probably still taking it, by the lorry load.

  ‘Dave, Angie’s trying. I’m trying.’ Dave was shaking his head. Kline saw an opening. Tried again.

  ‘This case…’

  ‘This case isn’t the case I gave you. My understanding is that you are now investigating five murders, four of which were in other countries. For God’s sake it was a chance, Joe. I gave you both a chance and this is the bloody mess I get on my desk.’ He looked at the reports, started pushing them aside one at a time. Pointed at Angie and Kline in turn.

  ‘You’re a troubled woman. You’re just a screw up. HR want action. The public think she’s a paedophile or worse, if there is worse.’

  Angie was bold, moving to the point of not caring. ‘Not knowing where your child is, that’s worse.’

  Kline needed to pull her back and shift Dave Barkers perception. The only thing he had was the case. ‘I need to look at the other four murders to solve this one.’

  Barker read a note and started shaking his head. ‘The ALICE murders’? Alice? What in hell’s name?’

  Kline had his source. Pete Simpson had been in Barker’s ear. He took a couple of steps forward, anchored himself to the back of chair with his hands. ‘The case is picking up pace, Dave. This won’t happen again. We’re getting somewhere. Just give me five minutes and then decide.’

  Dave Barker rested one elbow on his desk and balanced his forehead on the tips of his fingers. He shook his head, closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. Then, he looked up and waved Angie out with a flick of his fingers.

  Thirty minutes later, Kline wandered back across the main office. Faces looked at him sympathetically. He sat down heavily in his chair. Angie looked at him, large eyes filled with apologies, terror and tears.

  She leaned towards him and spoke softly. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. Really sorry.’ The tears came up again and she fought them back. ‘But I’m lost, Joe. I’m so far into the darkness I can’t find any light. I search, but I can’t find a way out.’

  Me too, thought, Kline. Me too.

  He reached out and took her hand, searched her eyes. ‘We’re good, Angie. It’s all good. We carry on.’

  But, he thought, this really will be the last time.

  *

  Diary entry for DI Joseph Kline.

  So, Joe, it has come to this.

  As some say, here we are, it is what it is, and what will be, will be.

  I can’t wait any longer for what I need. If I do, if I wait on your dithering and inability to make a decision about anything, I will get angry again. We know what happens then, don’t we, Joe?

  So, I will have to show you. I will have to show you the sociopathic, psychopathic love you have inside you yet, for some reason, deny yourself the pleasure of releasing.

  Trust me, Joe and don’t be afraid. It’s not the beast you think it is.

  I’m going to give you the hands-on experience of what it feels like to love and to lose that love. The way, by turns, it melts your heart with a burning, sweet sadness, then chills it to the cold of winter stone; drops your soul into the depths of the dark abyss, then sends it soaring to the sun.

  Pain and pleasure, Joe. Yin and Yang. In light there is darkness and in darkness there is light.

  But there is no light in my darkness.

  I am sorry, Joe.

  But this is going to hurt.

  Really hurt.

  *

  Chapter Eight

  Jenny is dead.

  The roaring of my pain.

  The screaming of my anguish.

  The mad-dog howling of my anger.

  The searing, streaming, pounding river of hatred that seethed and fomented through my shaking, sobbing, trembling body.

  The freezing, dark sleet of revenge that consumed me, driven by cold hard winds, blinding my reason like a snowstorm.

  The warm, clear tears of love and loss that ran from my eyes, down the rough skin of my face and dripped as droplets of love onto Jenny’s face. If only they were a magical elixir of life.

  He’d killed her.

  Murdered her.

  Taken her from me.

  Jenny had gone and I screamed my revenge at heaven and damned his soul to hell.

  Hands pulled at me and I fought them off. They tried to drag me from her bed, from where I’d thrown my body over hers. I held her, I shook her, willing the life back into her body.

  I couldn’t bear that she had left me. Couldn’t believe that she would leave me. Just come back, Jen. I know you were hiding from him. Pretending. But he’s gone now. It’s safe.

  The rough hands left me to be replaced by a gentle voice I knew.

  ‘Boss. Joe.’ Angie spoke quietly through the voice of her own understanding. From her own knowledge of loss and the pain it brings.

  ‘You have to come away, Joe.’

  She gently unwrapped my fingers. They clung to Jenny with a desperation that knew if I let go of her now, she was gone from me forever.

  ‘Let her fly, Joe.’

  I released my body, let it fall limp as the tension drained from the muscles the way the life must have left Jenny. Was she still here in this room? Her soul, her spirit floating on the ceiling? Watching me? Pitying me? Loving me?

  I slid my body from the bed. I was on my knees, a little boy saying his prayers before bedtime. I glanced up at Angie. She was crying. A nurse behind her was crying. Both crying because of the rawness of my pain.

  Grief, oh grief, you are the king of pain.

  I wiped at tears with my fingertips, swiped across a runny nose with the back of my hand. Breathed. It caught and quivered in my throat.

  I spoke. ‘This is a crime scene. We need everyone out. The room sealed and….’

  ‘Joe.’ Angie shook me gently and raised me to my feet.

  ‘Boss.’ She made me look into her eyes. ‘We’re on it.’

  I nodded, but couldn’t stop. ‘Get SOCO to…’ I was trying to ride through my grief using habit. Throw a towel of normality over my pain.

  ‘Boss. We have to leave.’

  I took a deep breath that vibrated through my body. I shook with uncertainty because there was a question I had to ask.

  I looked down into Jen’s eyes. The life had gone. She had departed. The smile was still on her face and I realised for the first time that it was clever make up by the nurses. But that didn’t matter now.

  Jens hands were by her sides, palms up, and in each was a small lily. Then I saw something in her hair. Jen never wore anything in her hair.

  ‘What’s that…?’

  I felt Angie tighten her grip on me. ‘It’s a hair band, Joe. It’s called an Alice band. Women use them to…’

  I swayed and Angie pulled me tighter. I breathed again and pulled her against me, gave her a little shake, letting her know I was back in some form of control. But if he’d touched her hair?

  ‘I need to check. I need to know that he didn’t remove ….’

  ‘She’s fine, Joe. He didn’t cut her.’

  I looked down at Jenny.

  No, I thought.

  He just killed her.

  *

  Angie removed Kline to the visitor’s day room, supporting him all the way with an arm linked through his. The only coffee was instant, which she knew Kline didn’t like, but she made it anyway, strong and black. He drank two cups and ate a lot of biscuits. In the corridor outside Kline could hear quickly moving feet and loud voices.

  Twenty minutes later, Pete Simpson came in, grabbed Kline and did the man hug thing. He was going be the senior investigating officer. Minutes later, Dave Barker turned up for another man hug. Jenny was club. It takes a wife to create a good cop and that made her family.

  Dave was apologetic. ‘Joe. If I’d thou
ght giving you the Evie case again would lead to this…’

  Dave couldn’t know, thought Kline, but it was always going to lead to this. Fate is inevitable. Inevitability is called fate.

  Pete returned from Jenny’s room and asked a couple of questions. Kline told him about the lilies and then remembered the security camera. Kline checked his mobile and saw there had been a brief alert that that he’d missed. It said the camera was malfunctioning and to check and reset it.

  Five minutes later, Pete was back with the camera in an evidence bag. Kline looked at it.

  ‘It’s not mine.’ Kline double-checked. ‘He switched it. He’s been watching….’

  That stunned them all to silence. Kline realised the killer had switched the camera so that he could be entertained by Kline’s grief. But was he still watching? Still laughing? Still enjoying?

  Kline reached for a wad of napkins and wrapped the evidence bag inside them. He handed it back to Pete. ‘Tekkies might have a way of back tracing the signal from that. Mine was hooked into my mobile.’

  Pete gave him a look and Kline smiled grimly. Pete knew his job. ‘Sorry.’

  Kline dropped into an easy chair. That was a first for Kline, for any of them. The voyeur murderer who kills, goes home, pours a drink and then watches the aftermath of their killing live on their mobile or streams it to the lounge TV. The twisted nature of a mind that could do that, would want to do that, was truly scary.

  For the next hour, Kline found himself hanging round. He didn’t know what to do next. The raw emotion had drained the energy from him. Even now, he still couldn’t bear to leave Jenny. When SOCO had finished at the crime-scene they would let her body go, but for now it seemed wrong for him to leave her alone with all these strangers.

  Kline had his head back and eyes closed. He was trying to recall all the happy times spent with Jenny when the big white elephant tip-toed into the room. The first thing Kline heard was the authoritive voice.