Silk Chaser

by Peter Klein

  ‘The strapper killer, obviously,’ I said.

  Kate nodded and continued on. ‘Well, that will now become public knowledge. As will the killer’s trademark signature, Silk Chaser.’

  ‘Wow, you really are in the loop.’

  ‘It’s my job, remember? There’s one other thing. Forensics has detected traces of an unusual clothing fibre left by the killer on each of the victims.’

  I made a face. ‘Unusual, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It could mean they haven’t identified it yet, or they’re not letting on yet what it is. Either way, the killer’s left his tracks on each of the women he’s killed.’

  We’d polished off the champagne and I looked at the empty bottle and then at Kate.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said, standing up slowly to let Che slide off her lap. He jumped down with a little chirping protest and then milled around, brushing against her legs.

  ‘There’s no hurry. At least Che doesn’t think so.’

  ‘I’ve got to be somewhere in half an hour,’ she said.

  ‘Oh. Noel?’ I said. Not so subtle.

  ‘Nathan, actually.’

  Really should try to remember names. ‘Of course. Sorry. Nathan’s . . . well?’

  Kate nodded quickly. ‘Mmm, he’s fine. And Maxine?’

  ‘She’s completely over the knock to her head. Busy with work and things. She’s fine, too.’

  ‘Well then, I guess we’re all just . . . fine.’

  Bit awkward, the parting moment. Both of us putting up imaginary fences that we knew we shouldn’t jump. I wished I could say something more meaningful to her; ask her if she was happy with the guy or something. But the fence stayed in place and Kate said goodnight and turned around and left.

  It was only seven thirtyish and I was at a bit of a loose end. I hadn’t had dinner yet and I felt like eating out, but I also felt like a bit of company. Who to call up at short notice? Maxine was a no-go tonight, at least till nine thirty, she’d said. Yet another bloody meeting with that new law firm she was doing work for. I don’t know why they couldn’t meet during regular working hours. I suppose that clever partner Ellis, who Maxine was forever going on about, was so busy coining it during the day he could only meet at night. I thought about going over to Maxine’s later after dinner, spending the night at her place. But she’d only be tired and grumpy after working, so I decided I was better off seeing her on the weekend. I thought about phoning Tiny, but remembered that he’d be bouncing on a Wednesday night. Besides I’d already played some snooker with him and David the night before. On my fridge door there was a flyer I had stuck up from a new Chinese takeaway that had opened down the road. Maybe I’d order in.

  Che looked at me pathetically from his empty feeding bowl on the kitchen floor.

  ‘No, Che. I think you’ll find you’ve actually had dinner tonight.’

  A hopeful purr of denial.

  ‘As evidenced by the empty Fussy Feline box in the bin.’

  Meow. Could be yesterday’s?

  ‘Nice try, but I don’t think so, buster. If you’re good,’ I continued, ‘I’ll bring you back some of my Seafood Delight.’

  Why order in when I owned a restaurant? I was off to Gino’s.

  The boom gates at the Kooyong level crossing had just swung shut to let a train through. I was cursing them because they take forever to open and I knew if I’d left ten minutes earlier I’d be at Gino’s by now and digging into a pizza.

  My mobile rang; it was Beering.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said gruffly.

  ‘And hello to you, too,’ I said.

  ‘Never mind the niceties, I need to see you. Are you at home?’

  ‘I’m at Gino’s, or I will be in five minutes.’

  ‘You bloody well live at that place. Good. I’ll meet you there, then.’

  ‘Are you chasing tips for Saturday or you want to share a pizza with me?’

  ‘There’s a girl they’ve found. In Newmarket.’

  ‘Newmarket, Flemington? Christ, another strapper killing?’

  ‘It’s a strapper killing all right, but I’m talkin’ Newmarket in England.’

  ‘That’s a long way from here.’

  ‘It’s the girl who brought a rape charge against Kagan Hall and then went missing.’

  ‘I remember her. She did a disappearing act and Hall’s charges were dropped.’

  ‘Yeah, well, she’s not the only one to pull a disappearing act. Kagan Hall’s gone too, vanished.’

  Beering was waiting for me in his car parked out the front of Gino’s. He got out when he saw me, and we walked in together. The place was full except for the one small table I keep permanently reserved down the back. Billy winked at me from over the counter and greeted me like a long-lost friend. ‘How’s it goin’, Punter? Table for two, is it?’

  ‘Hi Billy. Can you fit us in?’

  ‘Always find room for a regular like you.’

  Billy showed us to my table and then returned promptly to plant a couple of ice-cold Beck’s down in front of us without even asking.

  ‘Compliments of the house, fellas,’ said Billy cheerfully. ‘Usual pizza?’ he asked me. I nodded.

  ‘I’ll have what he’s having,’ said Beering.

  ‘Two Seafood Delights it is, then,’ said Billy, leaving us to it.

  ‘I dunno how you do it, Punter,’ said Beering enviously. ‘Score a table on a night when the place is chockers. Don’t even have to order drinks; they’re comped. Fair dinkum, you must have shares in this joint.’

  ‘I’m a good customer,’ I protested. ‘They look after me here.’

  Beering scoffed and thrust his chin towards the front window. ‘Hey, didn’t this place have trouble with a broken window a week or so ago? I remember driving past and saw some shutters up.’

  ‘I believe so. Probably some bored teenager with nothing better to do. Billy reckons they all ought to do compulsory national service to keep ’em off the streets.’

  ‘I’d vote to that.’

  Beering took a swig of his beer, set it down in front of him and clasped it with his fingers. ‘They found the body of that girl in the UK who pressed rape charges against Kagan Hall. He heard about it and now it looks like he’s done a runner. We need to find him as soon as we can.’

  ‘Hang on, Jim, bit too fast for me. You want to start from scratch?’

  Beering seemed impatient to get on with it, but he obligingly went back to the beginning.

  ‘Sonia Lockwood, the girl who disappeared five years ago after laying rape charges against Hall, was found in a thicket near the Newmarket training tracks.’

  ‘I’m tipping she didn’t die of natural causes.’

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ said Beering, his face serious. ‘She died from multiple stab wounds, a similar method used by the strapper killer over here.’

  ‘Are you saying it’s the same guy – Hall?’

  ‘You’ll make a copper yet, son. The killings are certainly comparable. Hall had a motive to kill Lockwood. He also had the perfect defence; no dead body for police to take the charges any further, until now. And the strapper killings here and the one in the UK are suspiciously alike.’

  ‘What about other signs of his handiwork, like the lipstick messages on their bedroom walls and mirrors?’

  ‘Dunno yet. But I’ll tell you something for nothin’, the cops in the UK are looking closely at any unsolved murders or disappearances involving female stablehands that Hall could possibly be connected to. His travel itinerary also happens to fit in all too conveniently, with Hall leaving England after Sonia Lockwood disappeared and then resettling in Australia. Hall might have flown under the radar if you hadn’t passed on your observations about him, Punter.’

  That was probably the closest to a thank you that I’d ever receive from Beering.

  ‘Did they manage to question Hall about those two girls killed at Flemington last week before he shot through?’

  ‘They d
id. He was supposedly up-country looking at some horses at the time they were killed. In the context of what’s happened since, I think they’ll re-check that story. Think they’ll re-check a lot of things about Kagan Hall.’

  ‘How did Hall get to hear about the UK girl’s body being found from over here?’

  ‘Their local police reopened the case, put out an APB for Hall and contacted his London solicitor for his last known whereabouts. The solicitor made contact with Hall and suggested it would go better for him if he voluntarily gave himself up for questioning in a lawyer’s presence. They could probably smell another earn in it; Hall’s last legal bill must have lined their pockets. In the meantime, Interpol have been swapping notes about him with our Homicide boys. They went around to his house to pick him up for questioning late this afternoon.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And no Hall. He’d pissed off. Looks like they just missed him.’

  Billy brought out our pizzas and another round of beers and we continued on while tucking into our Seafood Delights.

  ‘Jesus, they make a top pizza, this joint,’ said Beering, mopping a hand over his chin. ‘I used to think old man Gino was the best, but the young bloke who runs it now is pretty good. Is he the owner?’

  ‘One of them. I believe there’s a couple of blokes involved.’

  Beering nodded, swallowed, got back down to business. ‘Anyway, Hall; we gotta find him. You got any ideas where he might be?’

  I shook my head. ‘But unless he’s got a bolthole somewhere, he’s got nowhere to hide. He can’t go to a horse sale or a race meeting anywhere in the country. He’s too well known. I mean, he’s plastered his face in ads across every formguide in the country. He may as well have put up his own wanted posters.’

  ‘What about Maxine? He was her client; perhaps he may have let something slip to her?’

  ‘Yeah, worth a try, or even her father; Hall and him were pals at the track. Jesus, to think how closely Maxine worked with that creep over the past few weeks.’

  ‘Might have been the very thing that protected her. The fact he was too well known to her and her father.’

  ‘It looks like you’ve finally found your man,’ I said.

  ‘Well, he’s a suspect on the run, is what he is. But now that we know who he is, it’s only a matter of time before he’s picked up.’

  14

  They found Hall the very next morning.

  Witnesses said they saw a car pull up on the Westgate Bridge. A guy got out, walked to the railing and stood for a moment before placing his hands on the rail and launching himself over the side. There was no suicide note found. No final confession as to what he’d done or why. But some of the missing pieces were starting to emerge. A police search of Hall’s house revealed an incriminating pile of clippings about the strapper killings. Every article, every paper’s story had been cut out and stored neatly in a folder in his desk. That evidence alone wouldn’t convict the man, but it sure as hell didn’t do him any favours, and neither would the large collection of pornography they found on his computer.

  The media had a tricky one to report. They didn’t have all the facts yet, but it wasn’t hard to fill in the gaps. Some went straight for the blazing headlines. The Sun had ‘Suspected strapper killer takes own life’ and The Post’s was guaranteed to sell copies: ‘Strapper killer cheats the noose’. Capital punishment had been abolished in this state after Ronald Ryan was hanged in the sixties, but that wasn’t going to stop a gruesome headline as far as they were concerned. I thought Kate’s piece was as good as any I’d read; it was certainly more balanced.

  RACEHORSE SYNDICATOR FOUND DEAD

  Kagan Hall, director of Winning Ways racehorse syndications, has been found dead in the waters by the pylons of the Westgate Bridge. Police believe there were no suspicious circumstances surrounding his death. Hall, a resident of Australia for the past five years, recently had a warrant issued for his arrest for the alleged murder of Sonia Lockwood in England. Ms Lockwood had pressed rape charges against Hall several years ago, but then vanished in mysterious circumstances which eventually caused police to drop the charges against Hall. It is believed that police reopened the case after the recent discovery of her body near Newmarket heath. The cause and nature of Lockwood’s death and Hall’s alleged involvement have drawn comparisons with the murders perpetrated by Melbourne’s notorious strapper killer. Police investigating the recent strapper killings have refused to comment on the case until further lines of inquiry have been completed. It is believed that detectives from Scotland Yard will fly into Melbourne later this week to discuss further aspects of the UK case with local police.

  Although the police hadn’t confirmed it yet, it was looking like Hall was the one. Maxine was convinced. I’d dropped around to her place on Friday night to tee up arrangements for the races the next day.

  ‘I can’t believe I actually worked for a psycho like that,’ she said. ‘I mean, shit, I could have been one of his victims.’

  ‘I’ve talked about this with Beering; it’s probably because you knew him so well as a client that he was never tempted to try it with you. Any attempt on your life by him would lead a trail straight to his door. His go was stalking strangers.’

  Maxine let out a shudder of revulsion. ‘You never really know someone, do you? Something like this happens and you find out they’re leading a double life. I tell you what I am going to do, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Delete any reference to Winning Way and Kagan Hall from my portfolio of clients. There’s no way I’m having a serial killer on my résumé.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave him out,’ I said, stretching back on her sofa. ‘I once had a mate who worked as an HR consultant. Said he got a résumé sent to him by a Middle Eastern mechanical engineer trying to find a job in Australia. The bloke was highly qualified, the sort of contractor that consultants can hawk around the big companies at a hundred dollars an hour. Anyway, this guy couldn’t pick up a job for love or money. And this was in the middle of the resources boom when skilled contractors were really hard to find.’

  ‘What was his problem?’

  ‘His résumé. My mate went over it, trying to trim it into shape, when he came across what he called the “Never-to-be-hired” info. Turns out this guy had worked for a construction company in India for six years that specialised in large civil engineering projects.’

  ‘Sounds a pretty stable work history to me. What was wrong?’

  ‘The company. He was working for Bin Laden Constructions. Bit awkward trying to get a reference from his previous boss, don’t you think? Especially after the Twin Towers came down. I think most prospective employees sort of put it in the too-hard basket.’

  ‘More information supplied than was necessary.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘That settles it. The last three months of work I’ve done is going to appear on my résumé as consultancy work.’

  Maxine got up from the sofa and helped herself to another glass of wine from the fridge. ‘Want a refill, sweetie?’ she asked me.

  ‘No, I’m fine. I was heading home after this anyway, still got some form to do. Just dropped around to see about arrangements for tomorrow.’

  Maxine was taking Princess Upstart to Flemington for the New Year’s Day meeting. The filly’s race was the strapper’s prize and knowing Maxine like I did, I knew she’d probably gone to a lot of trouble to make both her and the horse stand out.

  ‘Wait till you see what my outfit is!’ she said excitedly. ‘I’ve been out shopping today. You want to see what I’m going to wear?’

  I laughed. ‘I do, but you can surprise me tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll look stunning. What about the horse, what are you going to do to make her catch the judge’s eye?’

  ‘Don’t worry about the Princess,’ she said confidently. ‘Your brother and I have got it all organised. David’s going to shampoo her up after she works tomorrow and wash her mane and tail and mak
e sure her two white socks come up extra bright and shiny.’

  ‘Sounds like an ad for Omo,’ I said.

  ‘I know; whiter than white. And I’ve got some lovely tartan ribbon I’m going to tie into her mane and bridle. It’s the same colour as Dad’s silks. It’ll look stunning on her at the track.’

  ‘Now, speaking of the track; shall I still meet you at the stables and go with you in the float to the races and back?’

  Maxine shrugged. ‘There’s no need to bother with the security thing, now that Hall’s topped himself. But why don’t you come with me anyway, be a bit of fun.’

  ‘I can play at being an assistant to the strapper,’ I said cheekily. ‘Who knows what we might get up to in the back of the float?’

  ‘Is that what happened in your strapping days?’

  ‘You’d be surprised what you can do in the back of a float.’

  ‘You’re lucky my father didn’t decide to travel with us, the way he carried on at the Christmas party. My god, you bait him.’

  ‘Me? I’m only giving him back what he dishes out to me. Hey, speaking of your old man, I heard him on the radio this morning. He was strangely quiet about the strapper killings compared to what he’s been like the past couple of weeks.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘It’s what he didn’t say. For the past month, he’s been getting stuck into the police commissioner, the VRC chairman, criminal psychologists and anyone else he could find with a remote interest in the case. I thought this morning he’d be all over Hall’s death. Especially with the body in the UK turning up and the stuff they found in Hall’s house. But he was like, “The police have still got a lot of work ahead of them before it can be proven conclusively that Hall was the strapper killer . . . Let’s give them the space and time they need to examine the evidence, di dah, di dah.” It just struck me as a bit out of character. Usually he goes for the jugular.’