The Black Chronicle

by Oldrich Stibor

  “That’s her last name? Stien?” He asked while reaching for a pen and a pad.

  “Yeah. Mary Stien. She’s some sort of actress. I don’t quite understand it to be honest.”

  “Porn?” Costa asked.

  “No I don’t think so. She said slasher films.”

  “Slasher films huh? Like horror movies?”

  “Yeah. Low budget horror films. She also runs a magazine about the same thing.”

  “Interesting. This is the first time she’s been contacted by him?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “She have any idea why?” Costa asked standing up to stretch his legs.

  “She assumes that he has fixated onto her somehow because of her work.”

  “Sounds more than plausible to me. More likely than some sort of personal connection.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You got anything else on her?”

  “Not really no. She’s, uh, well a mess really. She’s barely holding it together.”

  Costa leaned his heavy frame back into his chair and messaged his temples.

  “You ever get the feeling that you’re not awake at all doc? That your life is just a long recurring dream?”

  “No and I suggest you see a psychologist about that.”

  Costa chuckled humourlessly and sighed, “This whole God damned situation is madness.”

  “Well I’m a forensic psychologist and you’re an investigator with the FBI. It’s not that out of left field.” Jeremy countered.

  “Except you're not a forensic psychologist anymore. You're a therapist or … what is it? High school counsellor our something?”

  “Counselling psychologist...Custodian of the skewed.”

  “Custodian of the skewed. Right. I like that. Okay, okay,” Jim said putting on his game face. “We’re going to need to meet up with the woman somehow. There are ways to get her here,” he said lifting his hand to stifle Jeremy’s objections. “Then we are going to have to inform the parents of the young girl. Where do they think she is? Have they filled out a missing persons report?”

  Jeremy didn’t have the answer, simply shook his head.

  “It's important nobody else learns of this video. This is the most personal video he's made. He says he’s trying to ‘help’ this Mary. If he is fixated on her then we may have something here. But if he knows we know about it, he will either cut communications with her or worse.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you make of this reference to ‘Maya’?

  “It loosely means ‘illusion.’ It’s a term found in Hindu philosophy and it refers to, if I understand correctly the fact that-” Jeremy sat up a little straighter and tried to find the right articulation. “Think of this world- the places and people and things in it, just a transmission to our senses, from the real source of what is there, but not the thing itself. You follow?”

  “No not at all,” Costa said trying to put his thinking cap on.

  “Okay. Well think of it this way then. Everything we perceive. Taste, smell, sight, touch, is through our senses. It’s a signal interpreted by our senses and translated by the brain but not the thing itself.”

  “Okay,” Costa said. That seemed to make a little more sense.

  “But it’s more then that. It’s a veil between us and God. Like I said, it means illusion. There is a similar concept in Christianity though as far as I know they have no one word for it. The kingdom of heaven is among you. It’s the concept that there is a deeper truth behind the one we are living. A deeper reality. As in a spiritual, heavenly one. But the difference is in Hinduism it’s not only a deeper truth of what this- the world and life in it is all about- but what life and our experience of it actually is. This world, you and me and everything in it, are only just expressions of the truth. Metaphors. You understand?”

  “I think so. I’m trying.”

  Jeremy couldn’t help feeling a certain satisfaction to be working like this again. As horrible as the situation was, it was the only kind of endeavour that ever made him feel like he had a purpose. Well besides being a father of course, but Charlie needed him less and less these days, emotionally and practically. He silently promised himself to start spending more time with him as soon as all this was over.

  “So he has some kind ultimate truth delusion. I’ve been saying all along he’s divine mission oriented.”

  “Maybe yes. This video certainly makes it seem that way.

  “So what's his mission?”

  “Well I guess figuring that out is your mission.”

  “This guy has me up at night Jeremy. I mean every night. I don't sleep...ever.

  “You'll sleep more soundly than you ever did once you catch this guy.”

  “You mean if.”

  “These guys always get caught. You know that. He'll slip up sooner or later. The cooling down period will diminish as his confidence grows and that's when he’ll make a mistake.”

  Costa took a gulp of the cold cup of coffee on his desk.

  “How many more people will he kill before that happens? There is no outcome here which can be categorized as a success.”

  “I'll tell you what though. This guy isn't just going to stop on his own. He's enjoying himself way too much for that. If he dies somehow, unrelated to his crimes, and is never discovered. Well then you have a Black Dhalia on your hands. The story will live forever, one more American bogeyman. There needs to be closure on this or it's going to be a blemish on the FBI and LAPD forever.

  “So you think his motive is as simple as that? He wants immortality?” Costa asked.

  “Don't we all?”

  Costa slouched in his chair and ran his hand through his thinning hair. He looked older than Jeremy remembered, much older than he should have after just two years. He was turning into just another burn out. A movie cliche. Still, he was holding up better than most probably would.

  “You know about that Paul Bernardo guy up in Toronto? The serial killer back in the nineties somewhere?”

  “Sure, what about him?”

  “Well before he was apprehended he was known as the Scarborough rapist. He would attack young girls fifteen, sixteen. Would go for some up to their early twenties if he was really in a pinch. Literally, right in their back yards if he had the chance. All in all about twenty some odd girls were raped or assaulted by him. The local police assembled a task force to take him down. Still the guy doesn't stop. One day, this cop, just a regular uni in a cruiser, spots the Scarborough rapist, Bernardo – you see one of the victims was able to help with a composite – so he sees the guy, fresh from trying to rape a girl. He tries to block Bernardo off with the car, but he runs down an alley. The cop chases him. On foot he's chasing the guy for, I don't know, like five minutes. But he can't catch him. Maybe he gets close but he doesn't get him. Bernardo jumps a fence and gets away.” Finishing his little story Costa leaned back in his chair and took another long gulp of cold coffee.

  Jeremy rubbed his eyes. He knew the moral of the story was coming so he just waited for it.

  “Can you imagine what it was like for that guy? For that cop I mean. And mind you, this was before Bernardo got really bad. This was before all the murders and shit. And that cop has to live with that for the rest of his life. People died – young girls, tortured and killed. All because that cop couldn't move his feet fast enough.”

  “You're not him. And it wasn't the cops fault those girls got hurt. If he wasn't on duty that day, there wouldn't have even of been somebody to at least chase him.”

  “And if he was faster he would have caught him.” Costa quickly countered.

  “Look, Jim. You can't do this to yourself. Trust me, I know. I was with BSU For eight years. In that time I saw a lot – A lot – of good agents come and go. You're not the only man on the wall.”

  “Alright Doc. I'll end my little pity party right there then. You know, speaking of manning the wall. You're already acting as a liaison for this Miss, Stien, and you worked with u
s on the Matherport thing. You should come back on this.”

  “Jim, I don't know about that.”

  “Look, I'm not suggesting we get you reinstated. Too much red tape. We can bring you in as a paid consultant.”

  “That's not why I came in here today.”

  “Of course not. I know that. I'm not doing you any favours here buddy. I think you can help this investigation and we need all the help we can get. It's as simple as that. Besides, would you really rather be counselling kleptomaniacs and talking about mommy issues all day?”

  “I never talk about my mommy issues.”

  They shared a polite smile. Jeremy took a second, but just.

  “Alright. I guess if I' m going to get pulled back into the muck I might as well be getting paid for it.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The following are selected excerpts from Richard Lansdown's three part miniseries: Man and Murder. Part one: An eye for an eye.

  RICHARD LANSDOWN:

  For as long as civilization has existed, murder has existed along side it. Its dark current has swept through the annals of human history, shaped it and altered in numerous ways. In fact, many historians believe that human communities began to form not just as a means to pool together skills and resources, but also as a means to protect one another from those groups or individuals who wished to inflict violence on them for their own gain or simply for their own personal satisfaction. Though there is one kind of killer who we find particularly terrifying and America produces more of them than any other country in the world. I’m talking about the serial killer.

  Stock footage: prison exterior. Fade in to: death row interior.

  RICHARD LANSDOWN:

  It was in the nineteen-twenties when the idea of the serial killer first entered the collective conscience of American society. And since that time it time it has only grown stronger. Countless books movies and TV shows revolve around the serial killer, who more than any other figure in our society, has become a kind of American Bogeyman.

  THOMAS NEGUS: Sociologist.

  Yes America does produce more serial killers than any other country and it’s a very, very interesting statistic. Much has been said about it already and of course there is no clear consensus as to why that is. Some suggest over-medication is to blame as many of these types of offenders are dealing with emotional issues for which pharmaceuticals had been prescribed. That’s certainly a factor.

  ADAM SCHAFER: Sociologist.

  America is a very violent society and sometimes we don’t like to admit that. The amount of violent crime committed in this country compared to other first world countries is staggering. But with even that aside sometimes I suspect it’s just a general inclination we have. Our entertainment more times than not is violent. Our sports are violent. There is an abnormally large military culture. This very country had to be taken with violence and so perhaps it’s part of the fabric of who we are. So I say all that to say that maybe our society desensitizes us to violence which makes it easier for some violent offenders to commit these sorts of crimes.

  NANCY GREENSPAN: Forensic psychologist.

  Serial killers certainly are void of empathy. That’s really the defining characteristic of a psychopath. But to pinpoint what went wrong in their development and why is extremely difficult if not impossible. Yes, we know that many serial killers were themselves the victims of childhood abuse or neglect but most people who were mistreated as children do not grow up to be serial killers. Psychology gives us a kind of window into the mind but it’s comparable to looking out a tiny window in a submarine down deep at the dark bottom of the ocean.

  AGNUS WINTERWIN: Psychologist.

  There is so much that could be said about our culture that may make us feel why its’ possible that America produces the most serial killers. And it’s certainly a matter of culture. Mental illness is found everywhere – in every country. And that’s more a matter of biology than anything else. Now to say that the reason is in our culture isn’t to say that the culture is bad, or to blame necessarily. Though many would. Nothing is as black and white as we would like it to be. Especially- Especially something as obtuse and complex as sweeping societal currents. Though I will say that American culture, whatever that is, certainly is conflicted. Certainly pulls at us from all angles. And it’s not difficult for us to see how someone suffering from mental illness could have their condition exasperated in some way from all that pulling.

  ADAM SCHAFER: Sociologist.

  Is conflict and inherent part of our culture? Of course! Of course it is. When you think for instance about the deep religious tradition in this country compared to the very strong atheist sentiment and what I would say in some pockets, overt hedonism. Materialism versus the unacceptable amount of unemployment and poverty. Republican, democrat.

  RICHARD LANSDOWN:

  Is the mind truly an unknowable abyss? What is it about American society which causes so many serial killers to become the monsters they are? What is different about American society and other societies that seem to cause these particular kinds of killings to occur here more than anywhere else? The question is not an easy one. The experts in criminology and psychology who we have spoken to were the first to say that an issue this complex is ever black and white.

  CHAPTER 20

  The office of Rue Morgue had never felt so foreign; so lonely before. Mary felt like a stranger walking its halls and got a glimpse of what it might all look like to outsiders. To those without a penchant for the macabre. Standing alone and staring at her plaques and posters of one of her most recent films, Death Maids, she had to finally agree with what she figured most people thought of it all along: It was all pretty fucking sick.

  Erin met her in the hallway with a venti extra strong-something-or-other which Mary gratefully accepted.

  “Lock the doors,” she instructed and made her way to her office.

  “Oh, okay, okay” Erin said, flustered and scrambled to get her keys out.

  “Are you going to tell me what's going on here?” Erin said, jogging to catch up to her.

  “I'm not supposed to talk about it.”

  Erin followed her into her office. It was clear she wasn't just going to let it go. And she deserved some kind of explanation.

  “Ugh! Okay! Look, there’s… a bad situation. Somebody dangerous has been harassing me.”

  “Another stalker?!”

  “Yeah. But this isn’t like the others. This is more serious than that.”

  “Really?” Erin said and took a seat across the desk from her and leaned forward with wide eyes as if listening to a ghost story around a campfire.

  “No, listen to me Erin. This isn't like the others. Those guys were just... fans. This guy is... it's serious okay. We need to be careful. I don't even know if I'm coming back in tomorrow or when I will be back in.”

  “But- but you need to come back in. I'm drowning here Mary. I can't do what you do. Martin doesn't want to help pick up the slack- by the way- I think we should replace him. I mean he's good at blogging whatever – but he's a dick. Not that it's my place to say who you should fire or not, it's just my opinion. As a friend, I'm telling you, Martin is a total dick. Seriously.”

  “Erin. I'm going to need you to take a breath, and please shut the fuck up for one second,” Mary said closing her eyes, trying to find her centre.

  “Sorry,” Erin said, embarrassed. “I don't mean to dump all this on you as soon as you get here. I'm just doing the best I can here and it's not enough.”

  “It's okay... Erin, I'm sorry.”

  “No, you’re right. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay, okay... Should we talk about Octobers issue then?”

  Mary really didn't want to talk about that either, but what choice did she have? This was her baby aft
er all. She couldn't just let it die. There were employees to think about, and subscribers and advertisers who had already paid for ad space. This was her burden. Then something turned in her mind and she could see clearly what she had to do, what she wanted to do.

  “Octobers issue... yeah. Uh- do you think you could do this?”

  “Do what? Take care of the issue without your input? I guess I could but I- I don't know.”

  “No run the magazine.”

  Erin shrugged and stammered, looked this way then that, searching her memory and then her imagination, and finally had to conclude -

  “I suppose... I mean... Yeah. Yeah I can, I just need an assistant editor.”

  “Well we'll find you one.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “It's yours Erin.”

  “What is?”

  “The magazine. It's yours. I'm done.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Erin said covering her mouth with her little hand. “Is this situation really that bad? Are you going into hiding?” Then she pulled her head back and focused one eye down the ridge of her nose the way one does when they are trying to focus on something that's too close to their face. “What if he comes after me next?”

  “I don't think that's going to happen.”

  “Yeah, but how do you know? If you go into witness protection or whatever, I may be the next best thing.”

  “Erin, if I thought that was going to happen I would tell you. But if you don't want it-”

  “I'll do it!.. but really? This isn't a hypothetical?”

  “No it's definitely not. I want out of this industry. It's been too long Erin. You have worked side by side with me for years now. You love the industry, you've networked, you have all my contacts and I know you will do a great job.”

  It was weird for Mary to hear herself saying those words. She didn't know if she felt sad, or relieved or what. But she did know this was the right choice. How could she carry on with this career after what had happened to Cindy? It would be hard enough for her family not to blame her for all this. How much more so if she didn't finally acknowledge how demented it all was. And it was. She wanted to tell Erin that but knew she wouldn't understand. Not to mention she didn't want to draw attention to herself by just sinking the magazine. This was the only way she could quietly just fade away.