The Shadow Maker

by Robert Sims

For professional reasons, including strict commercial secrecy, I needed to ensure Kelly’s continued loyalty. Hence the “pay-off “, as you put it.’

  Rita eased back and said, ‘These “personal reasons” - you saw them for yourself when you met her to agree on the money?’

  ‘I saw she’d been injured and heard her explanation about the unfortunate mishap.’

  ‘But you know she was brutally attacked?’

  He blinked twice, and Rita knew he was about to lie.

  ‘I know nothing of any attack. And if she didn’t want to tell me, it’s none of my concern. What we discussed was purely business. I don’t think I can help you in your inquiries,’ he said, then turned back to the mirror and picked up a fresh pad to dab around his mouth.

  This man was going to be hard to catch out, thought Rita. He was a very good liar. Almost in the class of women. That’s when Rita realised he was removing a thin layer of lipstick. For some reason she found it amusing, and vaguely sensual.

  ‘What shade do you wear, Mr Barbie?’

  The question startled him more than the others.

  ‘Oh, um …’ He fumbled around for the lipstick tube. ‘Baby Pink for today’s shoot.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Nice and modest. You don’t wear lip gloss?’

  ‘People on the box shouldn’t wear gloss. It’s like drooling for the camera. Their lips look permanently wet.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘For location shots I wear Nude.’

  ‘I’ll bet you do.’

  ‘Can I ask you one thing? Call me Martin, Marty, Mart or even just Barbie. But never Mister. The day people think of me as Mister my career in showbiz is over.’

  They were looking directly into each other’s eyes. He was hitting on her, and she knew it. It was clear he knew that she knew it and was pleased that she didn’t protest. The erotic nuance hung between them like a scent in the air.

  ‘I think I’ll call you Barbie,’ she said. ‘It reminds me of girls’

  dolls and toys.’

  He grinned.

  They were playing a game and it was on several levels. He was obviously lying and she wanted to find out how much. She was probing into his secrets, and she could see he was pretending to cooperate, but he also seemed to fancy her. From what Josh had said, Barbie was a womaniser and a risk taker, and it might appeal to his speculative instincts to flirt with a policewoman who was pursuing him. She too was being manipulative, deliberately using sex appeal to draw him out. But the question was how far was she prepared to go?

  Just then her mobile rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, taking her phone out of her bag as Barbie resumed his work in the mirror.

  It was Strickland on the phone.

  ‘Drop what you’re doing,’ he told her. ‘Homicide want you at a crime scene right now.’

  ‘Homicide? Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Another prostitute’s been mutilated. But this one’s dead.’

  Rita peeled off her jacket and unhitched her skirt inside the scene-of-crime van and pulled on the plastic trousers and top. Then she slid on gloves, stepped out of the van, walked into the apartment block and climbed the stairs to the second-floor flat. As she entered the bedroom the first thing she noticed was the smell, followed by the body on the bed.

  ‘Ah, Van Hassel. I hope you can give us something on this.’ It was the head of the Homicide Squad, Detective Inspector Barry Mace. ‘I’m told you’ve already started a profile on the guy who blinded the first prostitute.’

  She nodded. ‘You think it’s the same man?’

  ‘I do. There’s already a prints match. And we’ve got a second girl mutilated - this time the ears. And she’s another street hooker.

  Nadine McKeever, only twenty-one. Looks like your reporter boyfriend was right about a serial attacker.’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she said, frowning, as she began to concentrate on the crime scene.

  ‘Will you make sure I get a full set of photos and a copy of the video?’ she said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Mace.

  ‘And if a card with Plato’s Cave on it turns up, I want to be told straightaway.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mace was a big man, broad-shouldered and with a tough face that would have looked at home in a boxing ring. But he was also astute. ‘I heard what happened to you - the carpeting by Nash.

  In my opinion you were dropped in it unfairly. But it’s no good getting personal with Kavella. It’ll only get in the way if you’ve got a hard-on for him.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ said Rita tightly. ‘But if another card turns up it’s crucial evidence.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Now get me something to work with. We’ve got a real psycho-freak on the loose.’

  Rita got out her notebook and moved past the evidence techs to where the pathologist was bending over the body, which was spread-eagled on the bed. Thin, pale and rigid. Limbs clasped in bondage restraints. The victim was young. The quilt she was lying on was dark with stains from the blood that had poured from her ears.

  There was also congealed blood that had spilled from her mouth and down her neck. Her glassy eyes stared at the ceiling. The lividity of the corpse showed that this was the position she’d been killed in.

  On surfaces around the bed, six candles had melted down into pools of wax. Her severed ears, circled in chalk, were lying on the floor.

  ‘What did he do to her?’ asked Rita.

  ‘As well as the obvious mutilation, he gouged out her eardrums with a steak knife,’ said the pathologist, gesturing to the weapon on the rug beside the bed.

  ‘That’s what killed her?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’ll need to get the body back to the lab to be sure, but I think in the process of inserting the blade he severed her carotid artery. An internal wound. Looks like she drowned in her own blood.’

  Rita made some notes then said, ‘So he may not have meant to kill her. The murder might have been a consequence of his need to mutilate.’

  ‘Well, that’s conjecture.’

  ‘Yes, and conjecture’s my job. What else did he do?’

  ‘He had violent sexual intercourse with her.’ The pathologist pointed to bruising of the vagina and thighs. ‘And it was unprotected.

  Even before we take a swab you can see the traces of semen.’

  Rita nodded. ‘What else?’

  ‘She was hit with a heavy object. Look at the split skin and contusion on her temple. Could even be a fractured skull.’

  Rita glanced across to where a brass candlestick was circled on the floor. ‘Is that the weapon?’

  ‘Again, I’ll need to check it at the lab, but it fits the bill.’

  A few feet away another object was circled. She went over and looked at it - an unopened condom, just lying there, in the middle of the floor.

  ‘Now that’s odd,’ she said as Mace walked over to her.

  ‘Why?’ He shook his head. ‘A condom was the least protection she needed.’

  Rita raised a finger reflectively to her lips. ‘But she didn’t know that before she was attacked. And it’s possible she was approaching him with it at the moment she was hit.’

  Mace scratched his head. ‘You’re not telling me she was killed because of a condom?’

  ‘No.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘I’m trying to reconstruct how the crime was committed.’

  ‘Well, we’re all doing that.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m doing a psychological evaluation. What type of person would do this? What’s he saying? What fantasy drives him?’

  ‘Hookers and fantasy go together, don’t they?’

  ‘True. But is he choosing prostitutes because of a fixation with them or because they’re easy victims?’ She rubbed her chin, concentrating. ‘Where did the steak knife come from?’

  ‘The kitchen, by the look of it,’ said Mace. ‘Other knives match it. You’ll get the forensic report when it’s ready.’

  She sighed, flicking the notebook irritably against her ribs. ‘Thi
s guy’s a contradiction.’

  ‘What do you mean? What are you seeing that I’m not?’

  Rita was silent, preoccupied.

  ‘Look,’ said Mace. ‘I’m not one of those stick-in-the-mud arseholes who thinks there’s only one way to solve a case. If your profiling can give me evidence, believe me, I’ll use it.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. I mean it.’ She gave him an appraising look. ‘But it doesn’t work like that. Profiling won’t provide evidence. It doesn’t nail anybody. All it can do is suggest a possible suspect. To be honest, it’s closer to art than science.’

  ‘Yeah. Okay. You want to explain that to me?’

  ‘What I’m looking for is his mind trace. His crime signature, as distinct from his MO. What he does that is unnecessary. His extra touch.’

  ‘Like beating his victims senseless then mutilating them.’

  ‘Exactly. The crime is the canvas on which he projects himself.

  The way he does it says something unique to him. That’s what I mean by fantasy. It’s very, very important.’

  ‘You said he’s a contradiction, but you didn’t say how.’

  Rita gestured at the room with a sweep of her hand. ‘This crime scene is random and sloppy. Disorganised. It doesn’t fit with the way an intelligent, socially competent, serial offender would behave. There’s a lack of control. Weapons lying around. DNA, fingerprints. The body just left there. It points to someone of low intelligence and a social failure.’

  ‘So where’s the contradiction?’

  ‘The description of the man who blinded Emma Schultz. He’s the complete opposite. All the hallmarks of a slick professional. Well dressed. Driving a smart convertible. Someone in control of the situation.’

  ‘Are we talking split personality?’

  ‘Not quite a technical term.’ She gave a low chuckle. ‘But I think we have someone struggling to cope with pressure that’s pulling him apart. A professional man who has to vent his sexual need and inner violence. He plans and controls his pick-ups, and at the point of sex loses his self-control. He doesn’t bring weapons, he improvises.

  The same goes for props, such as the candles here, the fire at the first crime scene. And that well-worn bondage gear looks like it belonged to the girl.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mace. ‘It’s from a set in her wardrobe.’

  ‘So the offender begins with a straightforward pick-up and the intention of recreating his fantasy of the cave. But as he does so, he extemporises and loses control, maiming his victims and leaving a blood-stained mess littered with evidence. It points to a form of breakdown. Something in his life has triggered a fundamental change.

  He won’t be able to stop.’

  ‘Where did you get all that from?’

  ‘Just a leap of logic.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mace dubiously. ‘But I agree with you about one thing. These mutilations have only just started. We’d better get ready for the next one.’

  He was interrupted by one of his detectives.

  ‘Look what else we found in the wardrobe,’ said the officer, brandishing a Plato’s Cave T-shirt. It was black and red, with the trademark design of the nightclub.

  ‘Well that settles it,’ said Mace. ‘We now have a common link in both attacks. I don’t care what Proctor says, we need to pay a call on Kavella’s club and turn over a few rocks. See what crawls out.’

  As Rita and her fellow detectives were examining the scene, news of the murder hit the media in a flurry of agency snaps. It wasn’t long before the apartment block was besieged by reporters, photographers, TV camera crews and satellite vans. They were all jumping on the angle of a serial attacker on the loose, and now they had a title for him. Some injudicious cop patrolling the crime scene perimeter had mentioned the mutilation of the victim’s ears. Putting that together with the first victim’s injuries, the reporters came up with an appropriate nickname: the Hacker.

  The clamour for a statement was finally satisfied when Mace emerged and answered questions to a cluster of microphones in the glow of arc lights, cameras flashing. It was all that the assembled journalists needed. Although Mace spoke briefly and was circumspect in his comments, there was enough information to hype the story to the hilt. And when crime correspondent Mike Cassidy glimpsed his ex-girlfriend on an upstairs balcony, it handed him a little scoop on the side.

  Cassidy’s TV channel broke into its lunchtime show with a news flash.

  We interrupt our normal programming to bring you breaking news on the gruesome discovery of a murdered woman, believed to be the second victim of a serial attacker. We’re now crossing to our crime correspondent, Mike Cassidy, who’s reporting live from the murder scene.

  Cassidy began his report: Police hunting the man who blinded a prostitute in a vicious attack early last week believe he’s struck again, this time killing his victim. The body of a young woman, also said to be involved in sex work, was discovered this morning in the apartment block behind me. This second victim fell prey to a savage assault, during which she suffered mutilation injuries. While the girl last week had her eyes gouged out, this second girl was apparently stabbed through the ears. The nature of the wounds in both cases has led tabloid reporters around me to dub the maniac behind the attacks ‘the Hacker’. It’s not yet clear when the woman was killed, with police only confirming that it was sometime in the past few days. The investigation is now being headed by the Homicide Squad’s Detective Inspector Barry Mace, who spoke to us a few moments ago.

  Video of Mace: What I can confirm, at this point in time, is that we are investigating the death of a young woman. The body was discovered after our attention was drawn to her apartment this morning by a phone call from a concerned neighbour. I can also confirm that she suffered a violent assault that led to her death. Forensic officers are still examining the crime scene as the evidentiary process continues.

  Voice of Cassidy: Is it true the victim was a prostitute who was stabbed through the ears?

  Video of Mace: It’s our understanding that the young woman was a street worker, yes. As to the type of injuries inflicted, I’m not prepared to go into details.

  Voice of Cassidy: Will you confirm you’re linking the murder with last week’s blinding of prostitute Emma Schultz?

  Video of Mace: At this stage each investigation will stand alone, with the forensic analysis ongoing. However, the nature of the crimes indicate to us there may be a connection.

  Cassidy to camera: Fears that a maniac is on the loose now prove to be justified, and it’s clear that his violence is escalating. Women in the sex trade have already been warned that they’re targets, and now people living in this area admit they’re frightened.

  Video of local woman resident: It’s bad enough what we put up with around here. You see the hookers, most of them junkies, plying their trade from here to Carlisle Street, pulling over the motorists. And if they don’t take them back to their homes, they do it in their customers’

  cars. It’s disgusting. Now we’ve got this lunatic prowling the streets. It makes you worried about walking out your front door.

  Cassidy to camera: Of course, it’s not just a worry for red light districts, although these seem the most likely hunting grounds for this predator.

  As if to underscore police concerns, I can exclusively reveal they’ve again drafted in criminal profiler Marita Van Hassel, who is analysing the crime scene behind me as I speak. That seems to indicate no solid leads have emerged, and detectives are no nearer to catching or even identifying the Hacker. At this stage officers are unable to give us any further details of the man who perpetrated these horrendous crimes, so he remains at large. Now, back to the studio.

  The tabloid press followed suit, making the most of the nickname attributed to the killer. The first front page of the afternoon exploited it neatly with the lurid headline: hacker cuts down hookers.

  The coverage was the last thing the crime squads needed, and with some of the macabre det
ails in public circulation their job had just become harder.

  Rita and Erin Webster joined around two dozen detectives from the Homicide, Organised Crime and Sexual Crimes squads as they filed into a briefing room and took their places at a long white table under the fluorescent strip lighting.

  ‘This reminds me of detention at school,’ whispered Erin.

  ‘I’m sure you had plenty,’ said Rita, ‘and deserved it.’

  At the head of the table, Barry Mace and Jack Loftus sat together, hemmed in by a bank of filing cabinets, flip charts and a row of whiteboards. All the relevant information from the two attacks had been gathered and displayed on the walls around them. The graphic images of crime scene photos had been arranged alongside arrowed street maps, forensic science reports, evidence lists, timelines, interview records, clipboards and even Rita’s preliminary profile. Newspaper front pages with Hacker headlines had been tacked to a corkboard.

  The accumulated data generated by the two cases loomed over the detectives settling into their chairs as Mace got to his feet.

  ‘It will be obvious to you why we’re here,’ he began. ‘And you can forget what I told the media earlier today about two separate investigations. We’re hunting the same perpetrator in both cases and he won’t be easy to track down. We’re dealing with an anonymous offender, no prints or DNA on record, someone who appears to strike at random. He’s intensified his attacks from mutilation to maiming and murder, and so far we’ve established no direct link with his victims. You can all see the type of investigation we’re facing, as well as the workload and potential duration. That means we had to make a decision. The result is the gathering in this room. We’ve decided to set up a dedicated taskforce to focus on these two cases, and any further ones the Hacker hands us. We’re calling it Taskforce Nightwatch.’

  Mace bowed his head and leant forward on the table, before continuing. ‘Now, you may feel we’ve been here before. In fact, some of you have. A year ago we used the same room for the taskforce hunting the Scalper. I’ve heard the speculation, so let me make a few things crystal clear. Although the file on the Scalper is still open, he hasn’t come back to plague us. It’s definitely not the same offender.