The Baby Jane Murders

by Pen Avram

  -------

  In his hotel room, where Hendrych was patiently waiting with a weak Martini served at the hotel bar, Kroupa sat at his computer generously provided by the hotel management, invited Hendrych to take a chair and sit next to him, and started looking through the plastic bag. The DVDs were sorted and in a number of protective cases. Randomly, Kroupa picked one. It was labelled 'Nora'. It contained a crude pornographic film. There were other cases with labels 'Bestiality' and 'Threesome', 'Kids', and few others. Kroupa didn't bother to look at them. One of the cases was titled 'Private'.

  “That's what we’re looking for. This I want to scrutinise. Sara, look away. This is not for your innocent eyes." On the first disk there were shots of a woman, probably Mrs Cotton, in the bathroom. Kroupa ejected the disk and inserted the next one. It had clips of Mark satisfying himself. Kroupa took that one out as well, shaking his head in disbelief at the perversity and vulgarity of the old man Cotton.

  "He must have hidden a camera in the bathroom!" a shocked Hendrych exclaimed. They struck gold with the third disk. It was of very poor quality, as most security images were, but it clearly and unmistakably showed the two teenagers, Mark and Greg drinking with Angelina. They were touching her and she was trying to avoid their advances. The more she drank the less resistant she became, until finally the two boys raped the semi-conscious Angelina in turns. "That answers my question and puts away any doubts I might have had,” an exalted Kroupa said.

  "What are you excited about? This was the brutal premeditated rape of a weak, innocent young woman." Hendrych objected.

  "I agree with you on the first issue. Premeditated rape, yes. I doubt she’s innocent though." Kroupa said contemplatively.

  "What do you mean? She's been helping us." Hendrych didn't understand.

  "Soon you’ll know. But for me, it’s still too early to say more," Kroupa said quietly.

  ----------

  "My honourable Detective Chief Inspector, allow me to say that I fully sympathise with you, but what you've just told me are only hypothesis. You don't have any proof, do you?" Senior Constable Milton was carefully choosing the wording of his objection at the Katoomba police station.

  "Then get somebody from the DPP to listen to me. They will surely approve an investigation into the case, when I ask them." Kroupa was impatient.

  "Have it your way. But you'll take full responsibility."

  "I couldn't agree more, thank you," said a relieved Kroupa and made himself comfortable in the chair.

  "What else do you want? What are you waiting for?" asked the worried Constable Milton.

  "For the DPP." Kroupa nonchalantly answered. Milton left his office in sheer amazement and full of worry. Kroupa followed him and asked the young constable where he could order a sandwich and a can of beer. The constable offered to get it for him herself.

  "That’s very kind of you. If you can get me an egg and salad roll, I'd be extremely happy, if that's not possible, you choose. And two cans of cold Guinness. Much appreciated." He went back to his chair, waited for the sandwich and Guinness. The constable brought two paper bags, one with the Guinness and handing him the other, she uttered, "Sorry, no egg and salad roll. I got you a rissole role instead. With a lot of tomato sauce. If you're hungry, it may do."

  Kroupa gave her fifteen dollars and said, "Keep the change." Then, with a grimace he opened the sandwich bag. He was glad that at least the Guinness was cold. When the food disappeared in his stomach and the first can was empty, he turned his attention to his iPhone and began playing chess. It kept him busy until the DPP arrived. "Thank God for useful apps." Kroupa greeted the DPP with a loud exclamation. "If it isn’t Les Lee! What you have been doing all this time?"

  "Kroupa?! What a surprise. At least I can rest assured we’re dealing with facts. What can I do for you?"

  "I don't know yet, to be frank. I just shot a man dead, saved a young woman's life, and before he died, the deceased told me something rather unexpected. I want to pursue it further. I need to have access to all information about Edward 'Ted' Baldwin and his family. I mean everything. Family documents, the whole history of everybody, including the children, their school reports. As I said, everything. The coroner's report on Mrs Baldwin's death, birth certificates of his children… the usual. And I need a warrant to search Baldwin's house."

  "What about the dead man? Didn't you go a little overboard?"

  "What are you saying? There are dozens of witnesses ready to testify that Baldwin was going to kill this young lady and I aimed at his legs. It was his fault that he fell to the ground so fast. If he would have stayed upright, he’d still be alive." Kroupa retorted sounding profoundly hurt. "There is one small thing though. I don't know if it’s in the scope of your authority. I would like to see Miss Angelina Baldwin in protective custody."

  "Did you say Baldwin? I thought that the deceased was Baldwin."

  "As always, you are remarkably observant. Yes, they both carried the same surname. Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? But it’s a common surname. Can you arrange protective custody for her?"

  "I’ll see what I can do. That really is a matter for the local constabulary. I promise nothing." Lee pensively answered. "I'll talk to the people in Sydney. After all, the Baldwins resided in Sydney."

  "Am I free to travel? Within Australia?"

  "You'll have to talk to the local police. With your credentials and witnesses on hand, you shouldn't have too many problems."

  Against all regulations, Kroupa was set free. Angelina was taken into protective custody, as Kroupa wished. He summoned Sara and Hendrych. He talked to both of them, looking at each other in equal intervals. "We must go to Sydney. And we’ll need a car. No more charter planes and taxis! And Sara is not welcome in them, anyway. The best shot will be," here he was looking at Hendrych, "if you take the train to Sydney alone, pick up your Spider and come back here to pick us up. Then we can all go to Sydney. Sara likes travelling in style."

  That settled and inspite of the heat, Hendrych put on his cashmere turtle-neck pullover and his leather jacket, pocketed his phone, his valet, checked that his driver's license was in it and called for a taxi to the railway station. Kroupa sat in the armchair in his hotel-room and with Sara at his feet he turned on his iPad. He knew that he had a good five hours until Hendych returned. He wanted to use this time to think. He opened MindMaple, his favourite brainstorming application. Lots of thing were bothering him. He felt that there was some connection between Gertrude's and Baldwin's deaths, the fact that Angelina was Baldwin's target and his last words - who was 'she'? The attacks on Hendrych and himself - had the boys tried to silence them. Coke cans - what was their significance? He was skilful and experienced in mapping his thoughts and after maybe two hours, he was satisfied. He learned to recognise when there was nothing for him to do and he knew what to do in those circumstances. He opened a can of cold Guinness, turned on his home studio and listened, very loudly, to Beethoven. He started with the Emperor piano concerto, then he concentrated on the Choral Fantasy and in the end came all nine symphonies. That was the plan, but Hendrych arrived in the middle of the 'Pastorale'.

  "Just as well you came after the Fifth. Now we can go. Sara, get ready, Johan is driving us back to Sydney."

  Hendrych was taken aback. "Now? I just arrived! Won't you check out first?"

  "No, this should only be a short excursion. You don't want to miss it, do you?"

  "No, I wouldn't miss any of your adventures even for a bottle of Williams Chase."

  Kroupa saw that Hendrych was in a good mood and didn't want to spoil it. "And what about for a Monkey 47?"

  "That I might just consider. You know I don't like Germans that much. But where did you acquire such a lot of knowledge about gin?"

  "Not so much gin. Rather Germany, The best beer comes, they say, from Germany. Followed by the Czechs and of course they all come after Dublin's Guinness."

  "Of course. But stop talking drinks. It’s making me thirsty."
>
  "There’s no time for this. Besides, you’re driving."

  The three of them crammed into the Spider, feeling good going on a new adventure.

  "Where to?" asked Hendrych.

  "First to Sydney. I will tell you the exact address when we're on Parramatta road."

  Kroupa had Baldwin's address from the registry at the Hydro, but wasn't sure there’d be anybody in. Ted Baldwin had mentioned that his wife was killed and he himself was now dead too. But there would be neighbours and their gossip was what he wanted. "Go to Rainbow Street," he ordered.

  "Didn't you forget something?" Hendrych asked.

  "PLEASE. Happy now?"

  "Yes, very. But I don't know where it is."

  "Ask your GPS, PLEASE. Doesn't your beautiful red machine have one?”

  "Of course it does. But I don't know how to read it. Do you understand maps? At school, I was hopeless in geography."

  After a few attempts to come to a mutual agreement, Hendrych declared that he knew his way.

  ------------

  Kroupa rang the bell, but nobody opened the door. He knocked loudly. Still no answer. "There is nobody home. What do you want?" A sonorous voice asked.

  "Where are you?" asked Kroupa.

  "Over here. You must be blind as a bat. You can hear me but you can't see me. Ha ha ha. You are so funny. Come and have a chat, here, on the veranda."

  The three investigators went to the house next door and headed to the veranda. "Oh no, you have a dog. No dog poo in my place. I can't stand dog pooh. It’s all over the streets and always ends up on your shoes." The voice led them to a rather frail old man. He seemed slightly humpbacked, but with the voice of a giant.

  "Sara is well trained, don't worry. And she won’t bite you," assured Kroupa.

  "That's a strange name for a dog. Sara, did you say?" The old man asked.

  "Yes, after Sarah Brightman. She loves to sing. You know, the diva?"

  "Don't have time for divas, not at my age. When I was younger, no one would dare compete with me. I was a devil back then. But now, what sheila would look at me? And if they did, what could I do? Dry as a broomstick. I sit here all day, wait for meals on wheels, and sometimes go to have a word with Mrs Somerset. She is a lovely old lady, not like the sheilas now days. Miniskirts or shorts, nothing left to the imagination. And their tits are almost falling out! Ha-ha. Fairdinkum, if I were sixty-five years younger, I’d know what to do. But Mrs Somerset, she’s a widow and she’s something else. Apron when she cooks, hair always done, fine stockings. And on Sundays - church. Never misses a sermon. She is what I call a lady. And you know, her husband was an apothecary, a fine, learned gentlemen. They don't make ‘em like that anymore. No, they don't. It’s a pity, don't you think?"

  "I do. Tell me, do you know your neighbours well?" Kroupa tried to get to the purpose of his visit.

  "Not very well. Sometimes I run into Mrs Peacock, and then there were the Baldwins. They were, how should I say, introverted? Quiet neighbours, with the occasional outburst. But since Mrs Baldwin was shot and young Miss Baldwin left, it’s been very quiet. Mr Baldwin does not associate with anyone, so little in fact, that people talk. I don't, unless I know the facts. That’s all I know."

  "You mentioned outbursts. What were they about?" Kroupa encouraged him.

  "You know, young women. The Baldwins’ lass and the old man always fought, about nothing. The girl got on better with Mrs Baldwin. She went to complain somewhere and people, actually two women, came to talk to Ted Baldwin. After they left, there was a big uproar, the lass walked out and Mrs Baldwin was hysterical. And then somebody came and shot Mrs Baldwin. They never found out who it was. It was a very sad story. But otherwise, it has been a very quiet and peaceful place. The only thing you always hear is the hum of the ocean. I wouldn't live anywhere else."

  "I bet it's peaceful. With two neighbours six feet under and the other one in the cooler, who could make a noise?" Hendrych commented.

  "Hush," Kroupa gave him a dirty look. "Which school did the child attend?"

  "Did you say two people dead? Don't tell me that there was another shooting! What is the world coming to. Poor lass, and she was so pretty."

  "She's still kicking alright, it's the old man who got shot," Hendrych provided the necessary information.

  "Thank God she’s okay. It would be a shame, so young and already shot. So, it was the old man, was it? Serves him right, that dirty old man."

  Kroupa interrupted the flurry of words, "You still owe me an answer. What school did the lass attend?"

  "That's obvious, the one around the corner. Where else? St Ignatius, of course. St Ignatius, around the corner." The sonorous voice thundered. Sara was agitated and jumped up at the sound. Kroupa decided that he’d got what he wanted, nodded to Hendrych and whistled to Sara.

  "What a voice!" Hendrych shook his head.

  "The more in voice, the less in brain," Kroupa added.

  "Do you think she did it?" Hendrych ask insecure.

  "Did what? Who?"

  "The lass, as the old man called her?"

  "Two thousand years ago a man called Plutarch said 'Decide no suit until you have heard both sides speak'. Always remember that. It is still valid today."

  "Who are the both sides?" Hendrych looked confused.

  "That I don't know as yet," Kroupa admitted. "Time will tell. We are going to find out more."

  -------------

  At Katoomba police station, George Hurst and Mark Cotton were sitting side by side at the long table, facing a beaming Senior Constable Milton and a young stenographer. "So, young men, what did you do in the car park last month?" Milton asked directly.

  "What do you mean? We weren't never in any car park. We don't have no wheels, man," said a nervous George.

  "Then I have to refresh your memory. You two and Ms Baldwin had a party in the Coles' car park, starting at about nine pm. You do you remember that, don't you?"

  "She promised she wouldn't tell nobody. Yes, we were there, so what?"

  "What were you drinking?" the superintendent wanted to know.

  "Black rats," Mark said quietly. "Bundy and coke, if you must know," he readily explained.

  "How many black rats did you have?"

  "We bought a carton, that's all." The talk turned to George, who was more co-operative.

  "That's twenty-four cans, isn't it? How much did Ms Baldwin drink? How many cans - of those black rats?"

  "Maybe six? I had just two or three and Mark didn't drink much, did you, Mark?"

  "I take it that Ms Baldwin was quite intoxicated?" Milton suggested.

  "That's for sure, man. She was absolutely pissed."

  "And that was when you raped her?"

  The stenographer sighed.

  "We didn't rape nobody, man. The slut was willing. She was begging for it." George claimed and Mark nodded in agreement.

  "So, why did you shoot the arrow at Mr Kroupa?"

  "We didn't. That's a lie. Who saw us, tell me, I challenge you and him."

  "We’ll leave it at that, for the moment. And what about Mr Hendrych?"

  "We needed some dough, but for that we suffered enough. My nuts still hurt, bloody idiot."

  "Serves you right. So, boys, I will have to keep you here for now. Rape is a serious charge. I have to talk to Ms Baldwin."

  -----------

  Meantime, Miss Hardy, the mistress of St Ignatius Ladies' College, was wondering why she had receive two decent looking gentlemen. It was a ladies' college by a name, but the teenage students were anything but ladies. She was used to complaints about her wards. Kroupa assured her in his opening sentence that a complaint was the last thing on his mind. "Miss Hardy, you had a student, a Miss Baldwin. What can you tell me about her?"

  "I hope she is not in any trouble, poor soul. I have been worrying about her a lot lately. I don't know why. We are not related, but all the girls here are like my daughters and I have to look after them. God forgive me, I failed Angelina. She was
such a lovely, likeable creature, and then something happened, I’ve never found out what it was. She suddenly changed, became very quiet, sometimes she went in the corner and cried, but she always did her homework diligently, and one day she didn't turn up for her lessons. Her father came to look for her, but we never found her. Later, after her mother's death, her father was gone for few weeks. I presumed he was looking for Angelina. Then he came back, packed up and was gone. The police came asking about Mrs Baldwin's death, but I couldn’t say anything - I didn’t know anything, and the people had various stories. Apparently nobody saw anything, but many heard the shot."

  "How close was she to her parents?"

  "Overly so. There was something of the Oedipus complex about her relationship with her father, and between the son and his mother. That's quite normal, I know. I know more fathers than the mothers. Fathers seem to care for and protect their daughters. They seem to be closer to my students - you understand, we are a ladies' college."

  "Certainly,” confirmed Kroupa. “I've heard, but cannot comment from personal experience. I’m a bachelor, you understand, don't you?"

  "Of course. I myself have never married, but I have my children here, every day. Chattering young girls, laughing, singing, also arguing and sometimes fighting, pulling at their plats; just normal young ladies. I wouldn’t like to work at a university. There, they’re real women. No, I don't like women with their schemes, tricks, declaring their hatred for all men and at the same time fighting for them, forming their own women's societies and closed clubs; no, I prefer my young ladies, if you understand what I mean. They are still innocent creatures."

  "I couldn't agree with you more. I have one more parting question. Was Miss Baldwin a good student?" Kroupa enquired.

  "I couldn’t have had a more diligent student. She worked so hard and was very inquisitive. If she wanted something, she wouldn’t give up until she'd achieved it. I remember an instance when I presented the class with an obscure mathematical problem, one that we had not covered previously, to challenge them. She was the only one who solved it. She searched painstakingly on the Internet and in the library until she had the answer. Some girls didn't like her because she was so hard working."