by Tim Ellis
‘I’m not ruling coincidence out, but the mathematical probability of a coincidence far outweighs the possibility. We need to find out why the woman’s death occurred when the husband was conveniently away.’
‘How do you know these things, Sir?’
‘I’m a genius.’
‘If you say so, Sir.’
‘Right, Richards, your turn.’
‘Me, Sir?’
‘You’re in training aren’t you? I’m your teacher aren’t I? Time you started using that brain you keep telling me you’ve got.’
‘Okay, Sir.’
‘What do the victim’s home lives tell us?’
Richards stared at what Parish had written on the board as if the answer might be hidden between the letters. Eventually she said, 'One lives in Redbridge, and the other lives in Grange Hill. One lives with another woman, the other lives with her husband. One has no children, and the other has a daughter of nine months. I would say there’s no similarity in the home lives of the two victims, Sir.’
‘Excellent, Richards. We’ll make a detective out of you yet. What have we missed?’
The smile disappeared. ‘Missed, Sir?’
‘Yes, Richards. What’s missing from the victim’s home lives?’
After examining the board she glanced at Parish and said speculatively, ‘Nothing, Sir?’
‘Nothing? I see. So, we know everything there is to know about the victim’s home lives?’
‘Well…’
‘Well what, Richards?’
‘We know everything that’s relevant, don’t we?’
‘And who has decided what is, and what is not relevant?’
‘You, Sir?’ she ventured.
‘No, Richards. You have decided what is relevant. For example, what was Tanya Mathews’ relationship like with her partner? Had they received any death threats? What was their relationship like with the neighbours? Had anyone been following Tanya Mathews? Was there anything in her past that might have made her a target for a killer? Did…’
‘Okay, Sir. The lesson has been learnt.’
‘Good. So, we need to interview the partners and work colleagues of both victims and find out more about their private lives. Why? What’s the point of finding out all this information?’
‘We’re trying to catch the killer?’
‘Don’t state the obvious, Richards.’
‘Oh! If that’s not the answer, then I don’t know what is, Sir.’
‘Isn’t detective work a process?’ He paused, waiting for the penny to drop. ‘What do we do with each piece of information?’
‘Well, we try to fit it into what we already know.’
‘And?’
‘And… we gradually build up a case by narrowing our focus and eliminating non-relevant information.’
‘So, what’s the point of finding out…’
She clapped her hands together and shouted, ‘To find out if the information is relevant or not?’
Parish smiled at the excitement in her face. ‘What about the locations, Richards?’
‘We want to know if they’re relevant to our investigation.’
‘And are they?’
‘Tanya Mathews lived at Redbridge and was found in Woodford Green. Susan Reeves lived in Grange Hill and was found in Redbridge.’
Parish waited.
‘We could do with a map, Sir,’ Richards said.
‘Excellent. Go and get one from the map store.’
‘I knew you’d send me,’ she said stamping out.
‘I don’t see any other trainee detectives around here. And be quick about it, Richards,’ he shouted after her. ‘We haven’t got all day.’
When she returned, he pinned the map to a pin board and drew lines between where each victim lived, where they were abducted, and where they were found. He then attached photographs of each location to the map.
‘What does the map tell us, Richards?’
‘Probably that the killer is local, and lives in the Redbridge area.’
‘I see you’ve woken up at last. Anything else?’
‘Not that I can see.’
‘He seems to be focussing on a small area at the moment. As he gets more confident, he’ll probably move further afield.’
‘You think he’s going to kill again, Sir?’
‘I think it’s almost certain he’s going to kill again, Richards. We have another serial killer on our hands.’
‘Are you up to it?’
‘More to the point, Richards, are you up to it?’
‘I’m up to it, Sir.’
‘Good. Right, let’s have a look at these messages you’ve been playing with.’
She pulled the Tanya Mathews’ message out of the folder and held it up. The bloodstained piece of paper was sealed in a large clear plastic evidence bag.
‘And the other one?’
Richards held up both hand-written messages side by side. The Susan Reeves message appeared to have been written by the same person on similar paper, and was also drenched in blood and faecal matter from the abdominal wound.
‘Mmmm,’ Parish said when he saw both messages together. ‘I’m surprised you even attempted to decipher them, Richards. Do you actually know anything about ancient languages?’
‘No, Sir. How do you know they’re ancient languages?’
‘I just do. I also know that if I’d have been allowed to read the file last week when the Chief gave it to me, instead of you snatching it away, we could have been further forward than we are now. Nobody’s been looking for the killer for five days. I expect he’s wondering what he has to do to get our attention.’
‘Sorry, Sir.’
‘It’s not all your fault, Richards. I suppose I should have ordered you to give the file back to me.’ He put the marker pen down. ‘Right, we’re done here. Let’s go and have a slap-up lunch and talk to Doc Michelin at the hospital.’
‘I didn’t get a pool car, Sir.’
‘We’ll use my car today, but from tomorrow get the pool car first thing. Parish and Richards are back in the groove.’
She smiled. ‘Okay, Sir.’
Chapter Three
Doctor Maurice Michelin had commandeered a booth by a window directly opposite the clock tower atop the main administrative building erected in 1993. It was an impressive sight, and Parish wondered whose job it was to climb all the way to the top every day to wind the damned thing up.
‘You’re looking good, Parish.’
‘Thanks, Doc, you don’t look too bad yourself.’
‘On the outside, as you can see, I’m my usual debonair self.’ Doctor Maurice Michelin was sixty-one, completely bald, stood five foot ten with grey bushy eyebrows over dark-brown eyes, and a grey goatee beard. Apart from the wrinkles of time, his skin was blemish-free and it was clear from his physique that he played sport to keep in shape. ‘On the inside though I’m a shadow of the man I used to be, and I blame you for that, Parish. While you’ve been lounging about at home like a couch potato, I’ve been deprived of Constable Richards’ smile.’
Richards blushed.
‘Yes, that’s definitely down to me, Doc. My apologies, but we’re here now, so should we eat?’
They got up and joined the queue for lunch. At the counter, Parish had the cottage pie with carrots and peas, rhubarb crumble and custard for afters, and a mug of tea with milk and four sugars. Doc Michelin ordered the Cheddar Cheese and Vegetable Pasta Bake, with his favourite chocolate donut; and Richards had a Broccoli Salad with a bottle of water. As promised, Parish paid.
‘So, you’re back in the saddle, Parish?’
‘With a vengeance. I would have preferred a simple little poisoning by an old lady with a walking stick and a hairy chin rather than two horrific murders by a deranged serial killer.’
‘I’ve often found that you get what you get.’
‘Very philosophical, Doc.’
‘So, you want me to provide a mountain of evidence that will help you solve
the case?’
‘That would be really excellent, Doc.’
‘As usual, Parish, your expectations far exceed my abilities.’
‘Have you had the chance to compare the post mortem findings between Tanya Mathews and Susan Reeves?’
‘Interestingly enough, I’ve been here since the year of our Lord 2000, and I carried out the Tanya Mathews’ post mortem in 2003 as well.’
‘We don’t need to exhume her then?’
‘You would have found that difficult, Parish, she was cremated.’
‘Oh well, did you find anything?’
‘Let’s start at the top and work down shall we?’ He glanced at Richards. ‘Are you going to be all right if I describe what I found while you’re eating, Constable?’
‘I’ll be fine, thanks Doc. I only felt queasy that first time.’
‘Right then I’ll begin. The killer – we’ll call him a he because it’s extremely unlikely that a female was involved in either of the murders – removed the eyes from both victims. They were removed post mortem thank God, and he used the same method to remove them. He scoops them out with something like a teaspoon and then slices through the optic nerve to set them free. Removing eyeballs is not rocket science.’
Richards stood up and left.
‘She’s young,’ Parish apologised. ‘Why is he taking the eyes, Doc?’
‘I’m a pathologist not a practising psychologist, Parish. A criminal profiler would provide you with what you want.’
‘A profiler would cost me an arm and a leg, Doc, and we’re nearly at the end of the financial year. You’re free, and you’ve always got an opinion, so I’d welcome any thoughts you might have on the subject.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. You’re right, I have done a spot of research. Apparently, there are sixteen basic desires that guide all human behaviour. I eliminated them one by one until all I was left with was – acceptance, food, power, collecting, status, and vengeance.’
Parish wrote the six basic desires down as Doc Michelin listed them.
Richards returned.
‘Are you all right, Constable?’ the Doc asked.
‘I’m fine, Doc, I only went to the loo.’
‘Will you sit down, Richards and stop interrupting.’
‘Huh.’
‘You see what I have to put up with, Doc. I’m thinking of trading her in for a newer model.’
‘Stop being mean, Sir. You’ve only just got me.’
‘Yes, and maybe I made a hasty decision. So Doc, let’s consider each one of those desires. Who would the killer want to be accepted by?’
‘You understand that we’re trying to rationalise the irrational here, Parish?’
‘Of course, but let’s do it anyway.’
‘Okay. He could want acceptance from other serial killers. From what I gather, they all want to be the best, to be remembered for how many they killed, what they did to their victims, how they fooled the police, and so on. There’s a fascination with serial killers, which has spawned fourteen and a half million websites on the Internet.’
‘And that’s not counting all the documentaries on the Crime Channel that Richards has watched.’
Richards grinned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir.’
‘I’m going to speak to your mum about putting the parental controls on the television, so that we can block the Crime Channel to your bedroom, Richards.’
‘You wouldn’t, Sir?’
‘Okay Doc, so we’ve got acceptance, but you’re not trying to tell me that someone would eat human eyeballs?’
‘Why not? There’s a whole eyeball-eating community out there. As far as I’m aware the weirdoes in this community only eat sheep or pig’s eyeballs, but its not such a massive leap from animal to human eyeballs. Think Jeffrey Dahmer who ate his victims, and Armin Meiwes who advertised on the Internet for an “18 – 30 year-old to be slaughtered and then consumed”, and a willing participant came forward.’
‘I feel sick, Sir,’ Richards said covering her mouth with both hands.
‘Well, you’d better get used to feeling sick, Richards. You’re a murder detective now, and you’ll come across lots of things that will make you feel sick in the course of your work. Unless… you want to go back to helping old ladies across the street?’
‘You’re being mean again, Sir.’
‘All I can say, Doc, is I hope he’s not eating the eyeballs. What’s next on the menu?’
The Doc smiled appreciatively. ‘Power. Everything he does to the victim is about power – the rape, the knife wounds, hanging them upside down, exposing them, and finally removing their eyeballs.’
Richards huffed. ‘It’s about the power men have over women, isn’t it, Doc?’
‘Yes. Some killers attack men, such as John Gacy, but it looks as though this one is only interested in women.’
‘Next on the list is…?’ Parish said impatiently.
‘Collecting. He’s collecting the eyeballs. Has each pair in a jar of formaldehyde on a shelf.’
‘If he is a collector,’ Richards said, ‘then he’s got a green pair and a brown pair. How many other colours are there?’
Doc Michelin took a slurp of tea. ‘There are infinite shades between brown, blue, green, grey, and hazel.’
‘Let’s hope he’s not a collector, Sir,’ Richards said.
Parish elbowed Richards in the ribs. ‘We’re running out of time, Richards.’
‘Sirrr.’
‘Then we have status,’ Parish said.
‘Similar to what we were saying about acceptance, he wants to be the best serial killer or eyeball collector in the world.’
‘And finally, vengeance,’ Parish read the last desire on the list.
‘Well this should be self-explanatory, he’s righting a perceived wrong. Now the wrong could be personal, or something else.’
‘Such as?’
‘Crimes against humanity.’
‘You’ve obviously got a lot of time on your hands, Doc,’ Parish said.
‘That from a man who’s just come back from a month on the sick.’
‘Point taken.’ Parish checked his watch. It was ten past one. ‘We’d best move on, we’ve got to be back at the station at two. What about the stab wounds and the abdominal cut, Doc, is there a pattern between the two victims?’
‘None at all. Tanya Mathews was stabbed forty-seven times, while Susan Reeves only forty-three times.’
‘Only?’ Richards said.
‘You know what I mean, Constable. Also, Tanya Mathews was stabbed and the abdominal cut was done while she was hanging upside down, which would suggest that she was alive when he inserted the meat hook through her ankle, but Susan Reeves was stabbed and cut when she was lying down.’
‘Let’s hope they weren’t conscious when he was doing things to them,’ Parish said.
‘Sorry to disappoint you. The toxicology report came back clear. The best I can offer you is chloroform over the mouth and nose, but I suspect he used that when he abducted them. They might still have been under, or he might have kept them under, but I don’t know.’
Richards put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Oh! You mean they were awake when the killer… did things to them?’
‘It’s possible, Constable, but as I’ve said, they could just as easily have been kept unconscious with the chloroform.’
‘He’s not performing a ritual then?’ Parish asked.
‘Certainly not in the way he does it, but what he’s doing to them seems to be ritualistic.’
‘It all seems a bit too much, Doc. The rape, over forty knife wounds, the abdominal cut, hanging them upside down with a meat hook through their ankles, removing their eyes, and as if that wasn’t enough he then exposes them. I’d say he has a serious problem with women.’
‘You’re right, Parish. He’s degrading them in every possible way he can, and because of that I would say that his primary motive is vengeance. A woman – or women – did som
ething to him. Maybe, he knows the victims, and his revenge is targeted specifically at them. All the other motives are secondary to his revenge.'
‘You should have taken up psychological profiling instead of pathology, Doc,’ Parish suggested.
‘It’s funny you should say that, Parish. My first degree was in psychology before I took up medicine, and even though I work with the dead I’m still fascinated by the behaviour of the living.’
‘What about the sexual assault, anything there?’
‘Some heavy bruising around the vagina and the inside of the thighs, but nothing else. There was evidence of condom lubricant, but no pubic hairs or semen. The lack of evidence in this respect suggests that the rape was part of his plan like everything else. He doesn’t seem to be doing anything in haste. Yes, he’s angry, but it’s a controlled anger.’
‘Weapon?’
‘A suggested weapon is identified in the file I’ve prepared for you.’ He revealed a thick file from the seat beside him and put it on the table in front of Parish. ‘Together with a picture, because I know how much you like pictures, Parish. Not much help though, I’m afraid. A common or garden commando knife with a double-edged blade.’
‘You could have sent me this by courier and saved me a journey, Doc?’
‘Then I wouldn’t have got a free lunch and seen Constable Richards.’
‘I suppose not. Anything else for me?’
‘The meat hook is a six-inch s-shaped hook used by butchers that can be bought anywhere. There are other types of hooks used in fishing, and some people stick these hooks through themselves and hang about. A leisure activity that seems to be taking off apparently.’
Richards pulled a face. ‘What, you mean people actually stick meat hooks in themselves, and then hang around like an animal carcass in a meat freezer?’
‘Yes, Constable. I had a quick search on the Internet for self-mutilation and found a number of people – men and women – who had put hooks through their cheeks, shoulders, back, chest, and… well all over really. Some do it as a protest – for example animal rights protestors, some do it for art, while others think of it as a lifestyle choice.’
Richards gave a nervous laugh and said, ‘I don’t think I’d choose to live like that, Doc.’
