Daddy Long Legs (22 page)

‘Detective, do not presume to know the full extent of my measures.’ Joemat bristled visibly in his luxury chair. The bodyguards glared at Human. ‘If you’re worried that my team will facilitate the movement of the killer, I can decisively assuage your fears.’ The premier smiled thinly, relishing in his own eloquence. ‘We maintain a detailed register of every single member of The Guardians. In addition we hold daily roll calls, as well as keep a detailed record of which members patrol which areas.’ Human wanted to answer him but was neatly interrupted. ‘Now, if you would please excuse me, I have to deal with the fallout of the so-called Pill Town Massacre, resulting from your
loose
management of the investigation.’ It was a bold-faced insult. And a blatant falsehood. They both knew that Human had nothing to do with the calamity that resulted in twenty-seven deaths. Joemat rose. ‘Tina will escort you to the door.’ The woman who had shepherded the young boy towards his father now detached herself from the group and escorted Human to the door. As Human walked through the doorway, Joemat delivered one last parting shot. ‘And please tell Joe Ndabane the next time he goes above my head he will regret it.’

Human made the drive to the detective unit in glum silence, agitated. The day’s events had once again interfered with the essential work of trying to catch a killer. And Human was feeling the pressure. It was already dark by the time Human seated himself behind his desk. Despite the lateness of the hour, the detective headquarters were bustling with activity. In front of him were his notes. Lerato had copied the copious annotations and dutifully returned them. Human was glad. He ended each day adding additional thoughts and observations to the thickening tome. Upon which he would quickly scan the document again. To see if there was something he was missing. Now, amidst the constant buzz in the room, Human once again consulted his notes. It was here, hidden in a long footnote, that Human alighted upon something that made his heartbeat quicken. It was a simple reference to the original psychological assessment made by Doctor Nieuwoudt. A reminder to himself to check out an interesting comment the forensic psychologist had made. For some reason he had glossed over the annotation every time he re-checked his notes. Now, however, it was a glaring summons. A screaming infant that demanded his attention. And his full attention is exactly what it got.

Human stopped reading and stared at the ceiling, his imagination aflame with the possibilities. Could this be it? Could this be the big break he had been searching for? Was this truly the beginning of the end?

And yet. Deep inside there was something else screaming at him. A sickening feeling. Something he just couldn’t ignore. A nagging feeling ... something about this case just wasn’t right.

‘And let’s do take number three in ... five ... four ... three ...’

The camera man completed the countdown silently, using his fingers. In front of the camera stood a tall vivacious woman with blond curly hair that fell about her face in unruly splendour. She wore a pink silk blouse that revealed only the most ‘professional’ amount of cleavage. Moments before the countdown ended she dropped her head and turned her face slightly to the right, staring at the camera with lidded, coquettish eyes. This was after all the trademark of Linda Ramos – TV reporter extraordinaire.

‘I’m reporting to you from the Northern Cape, where a spectre from the past has come back to haunt the people of the small Karoo town of Hope.’ She paused dramatically. ‘Behind me  ... a town living in fear. Cowering before the horrific onslaught of a serial killer whose reign of terror now spans more than two decades. He has struck again and again ... with impunity. Twenty years ago he took the lives of nine boys. And now, Kobus van Jaarsveld has become his latest victim. Abducted. Tortured. Murdered and unceremoniously dumped. And yet the police appear paralysed, unable to act. Well, maybe no more. Although at times it seems as if Daddy Long Legs is one step ahead, this may be about to change.’ Linda Ramos squinted at the camera. ‘Tonight, in a world exclusive, we can reveal that the killer has been communicating with police via the social media website known as Facebook. The killer apparently hacked into the Facebook account of a local teen. Unfortunately access to the posting has been restricted. But we can tell you this. According to a confidential informant, the computer crimes division of the SAPS is busy tracking down this hot lead as we speak. And it’s only a matter of time before they pinpoint his location. The serial killer known as Daddy Long Legs may be arrogant and narcissistic. But now it appears he has finally met his match.’ She paused, allowing practised self-righteousness to wash over her face. ‘This is Linda Ramos in Hope, Northern Cape.’

Later that day, as Linda Ramos was busy doing a final edit on the piece, she noticed the strange immobile shadow of a man in the background, staring at her from within the dappled shade of a nearby tree. Although she couldn’t put her finger on it, there was something about the shadow that troubled her deeply. After staring at the eerie outline for some time she finally pushed it from her mind. It was, after all, just a shadow. And there
was
a deadline.

She quickly finished the edit, not realising her cameraman had captured the dark silhouette of Daddy Long Legs.

‘There’s a leak in this office. And when I discover who it is, I will prosecute you to the full extent of the law.’

Human was furious. Enraged. He was standing in the middle of the main room of Eighteen Hill Street where he had convened an emergency meeting. Most of the detectives in the task group were gathered around Human, including Engelman and his team. The mood was sullen. ‘I swear to God,’ Human continued, ‘if I discover that anybody has been communicating with the press, I will have your badge and make sure you spend the rest of your days in Polsmoor.’ Polsmoor was the infamous Cape Town prison, made notorious because of the vicious ‘Numbers’ gangs like the twenty-eights, the twenty-sevens and the twenty-sixes. Human eyed his squad with intensity. Someone from within their ranks was a traitor. Someone was playing a very dangerous game with a very dangerous killer. Human sighed expansively. And forced himself to calm down. ‘Guys, this entire investigation is predicated upon confidentiality ... and trust. The killer is already a step ahead of us. If he knows everything we know, if he knows everything we do, he’s going to remain ahead of us. And we’ll never succeed.’ Human looked at his detectives in silence. ‘Please, if you know anything. If you know of any improprieties, you have to let me know. We’re not only dealing here with a murderer, but our reputations are also at stake.
All
our reputations. We have to work together, else we’re all screwed.’ A few of the policemen nodded mutely. ‘Okay, let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’

Human dismissed his detectives. A fiery coal burned in his gut. He rubbed his abdomen, frowning. Was he finally developing an ulcer, he wondered? After all these years? Dammit.

Human watched his detectives disperse. Watching the morning news, and learning about the leak, had sent his blood-pressure skyrocketing. And his head spinning. The leak had been disastrous. At this stage, the Facebook angle was one of their best leads. In fact, it was probably their single best lead. Who could have leaked the info to the press? Who could have betrayed the investigation? Of course he had his suspicions, he thought, as he watched Engelman make his way across the room. But the truth is that many, especially the senior detectives, had access to the information. The final conclusion was too terrible to contemplate, Human thought, as he turned to face Lerato. He smiled at her with tight lips. He would have to watch everyone closely, he decided.
Everyone
.

‘Detective Human, I’m so sorry about the leak. I –’

Human grabbed her bodily and shoved her into the filing room. The room was empty. ‘Tell me now; did you have anything to do with this? I need to know, I need to know right now.’ Her eyes were large and terrified. ‘I’m all alone here, Lerato. I’m completely alone. I have no-one here. I need to know now. I need to know right now. Can I trust you?’ Lerato Mathafeng looked at Human, her lips trembling. ‘Can I trust you, Lerato?’

‘I would never do anything to betray you, Detective Human.’ Her hands, held in front of her, were shaking visibly. Human released her. Somehow. He knew. She was not the one.

‘I’m sorry.’ He felt both regret. And relief. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. I didn’t mean to accuse you.’ He turned from her. ‘Things have been insane. Instead of catching a deranged killer, I’ve had to deal with a million other things. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to frighten ... or hurt you.’

Lerato reached out and gently touched his back. ‘Don’t apologise.’ She looked at him intently. ‘They don’t understand how much you give of yourself. They don’t understand ...’ She paused. ‘They don’t understand that you’re the only hope they have.’ Human turned to her. Surprised at the gentle sincerity of her words.

‘Thank you,’ Human said softly. They stared at each other in silence.

And then a junior detective entered the room. And the moment was broken. Human turned to the policeman and assumed a brusque manner, feeling embarrassed. ‘Colonel Potgieter sent through his profile, sir.’ He handed Human a sealed envelope.

‘Has anyone else seen this?’ Human asked.

‘No, sir.’

‘Okay. Here’s the deal,’ he said, taking the large manila envelope from the detective, ‘from now on all evidence and all files will only be available on request. And we will keep a detailed log of everyone who accesses our files. Is that clear?’ The detective nodded. ‘I want you to inform everybody, okay?’

‘Yes, sir. Straight away.’ He exited.

Human turned to Lerato. ‘I want you to have a look at this as soon as I’ve been through it.’ She nodded, her face betraying a flicker of delight at his words. ‘From now on only you and I have unrestricted access to the files.’ Lerato said nothing. But she was clearly awed. ‘The other detectives aren’t going to like it, but right now I don’t give a damn.’

‘Thank you, sir. I won’t disappoint you.’ Somehow Human knew that she wouldn’t. She frowned slightly. ‘Detective Human, what did you mean about the pornography? When you said the killer wouldn’t have pornography in his possession? During the press conference.’

‘Oh that?’ Human took a deep breath.

‘I mean, didn’t Doctor Nieuwoudt’s report state that the serial murderer ... erm ...’ She turned and dug into her satchel. She pulled a copy of Human’s notes from its depths whereupon she furiously paged until she reached a desired location. ‘He wrote the murderer may be ‘fixated on sado-masochism as well as bondage material’’. She looked at Human. ‘Doesn’t that imply pornography, as well?’

‘Yes, it does.’ Human nodded slowly, impressed with her question. ‘However, it’s my own opinion that the good doctor got that wrong. After a review of his psychopathy, I came to the conclusion that one of the things that makes our killer so incredibly efficient and effective in evading capture, is the ... rigid compartmentalisation of his mind.’ Lerato looked at Human, mystified. ‘Remember our ... erm ... discussion of the B.T.K. case yesterday?’

Lerato averted her eyes, smiling in slight embarrassment. ‘Yes.’

‘Well I believe our killer has one more thing in common with Mr Rader. Look at Rader’s life. He had a family with two daughters, I believe, and was an upstanding member of his church, right? And yet, he was one of the most vicious serial killers ever. Not only killing without compunction, but boasting to the media and police about it. In the same way, our own killer’s mind is obsessively compartmentalised. His ‘serial killer’ life is completely separate from his ‘ordinary life’. There is a high-security, electrified fence between the two. And they never meet ... or overlap. It’s what allows him to be so good at what he does. The sick, aberrant thrills live in the serial killer part of his mind, whereas the everyday grocery shopping and socialising duties and so on live in the other part of his mind. All serial killers have varying degrees of compartmentalisation, but it’s in the organised serial killer where we find a highly refined form of this. Dahmer kept rotting corpses in his flat. Gein kept lampshades made from human skin in his squalid farm house. Not our Daddy. If you had to search his house, you wouldn’t find anything to indicate that a serial killer lived there.

‘Wow. I see.’ Lerato rubbed her chin, digesting everything Human had told her.

Human looked at the envelope in his hand. ‘I need to get going on this.’ He moved to his desk.

Lerato looked at the envelope. ‘Detective?’ She approached him gingerly. ‘I had an idea last night, as I was reading through your notes.’

Human looked at her with interest. ‘Uh-huh?’

She consulted her notes. ‘It was something you referred to. Something that the original detectives also pointed out.’ She paged, frowning. Then stopped. ‘You mentioned that the last three murders showed significant anomalies, specifically with regard to modus operandi.’ She looked at Human. ‘As if the killer had been distracted, as if he had been experiencing some sort of trauma or as if something happened in his personal life.’

Human’s interest was now piqued. ‘Carry on.’

Lerato continued, emboldened by Human’s encouragement. ‘I agree with you, and with Doctor Nieuwoudt. The killer was definitely a ‘family man’. Why else would he get a vasectomy? Right?’

‘Absolutely. It certainly wouldn’t make him a more effective killer. And this was way before DNA testing, so that couldn’t have been a consideration.’ Lerato grabbed a chair and seated herself next to Human. Excited. Two kindred spirits ablaze with the possibilities of catching a killer.

‘Right. So he’s a family man, we agree.’

Human leaned forward, sensing that Lerato was onto something. ‘Exactly. Just because he’s a psychopath, doesn’t mean he doesn’t love. The Green River killer adored and fawned over his wife. She had never experienced such love. Her own words.’

‘John Wayne Gacy was a wonderful and loving father.’

‘Yes, exactly.’

Lerato stared at Human with flaming intensity. ‘Exactly. So what if he became distracted because of something that happened to a family member? Some kind of protracted illness or something. Maybe even a death?’

‘That’s highly likely,’ Human said, beginning to understand where she was going.

‘So, given that, what if I investigate the records of that period, anything to do with drawn-out illnesses or deaths, of related family members.’

‘Wives ... sons ... daughters.’ Human leaned back, elated. For the first time in days he was feeling excited about the case. ‘My goodness, Lerato, that’s a brilliant idea.’ He looked at her with true admiration. ‘Well done.’ She blossomed under his praise, beaming. Her dazzling white smile illuminated her entire face, like a bright dawn after a stormy night. ‘I want you to get onto it right away. Nothing else interferes with this, you got me?’ She nodded enthusiastically. ‘But first ...’ He looked around, to see if they were alone. Debating with himself whether he should tell her. He leaned forward. ‘This is incredible,’ he said, barely above a whisper. ‘But last night, I had an idea myself.’

She leaned forward, thrilled. ‘Really?’

Human looked around. He wanted no-one else to hear his words. ‘In serial killer parlance, profilers distinguish between becoming and become. All serial killers develop slowly, over a period of time. From fantasy ... to the first tentative – often failed – acts ... to a fully developed modus operandi, or signature. Yet our Daddy arrived on the scene fully formed. And never ... following that first murder, did he ever vary that signature. Which can mean only one thing. He had to develop his signature somewhere else.’

‘Oh my God. I understand.’

‘At that stage, he had
become
as opposed to
becoming
. It also means he must have relocated to Hope shortly before the first murder. Simply because there had never been a similar, paedophile-related crime in Hope ... ever. Which means he must have cut his teeth, so to speak, somewhere else.’

‘Yes, of course.’ She nodded eagerly.

‘So,’ Human continued, delighted that she was following his train of thought, ‘if I can trace all those people who transferred to Hope ... if I can investigate all those who moved here during that period, then try and find similar crimes in their original locations, I believe we can get our man. And if your idea pans out, it means we’ve got solid corroboration.’ Human grabbed Lerato’s hand. ‘I think we’re getting close. For the first time, I think we’re getting close to catching this sick bastard.’ Lerato squealed with delight. Then immediately brought both hands to her mouth as her exclamation attracted the attention of nearby detectives. Human smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘This whole time I’ve been investigating the wrong angle. I’ve been focusing on why he stopped killing. Instead, I should have been concentrating on when and where he
started
killing.’

‘That’s brilliant ... Detective Human.’

Human noted the pause. He leaned forward, speaking
sotto voce
. ‘You can call me Wayne,’ he said. ‘Just ... not in front of the others.’ He indicated the other room-full of detectives with his head. Over Lerato’s shoulder he noticed a tall, attractive man with closely-cropped hair talking to one of the detectives.

‘Okay.’ Lerato nodded, beaming. ‘But then I want you to call me Lerato.’

‘It’s a deal,’ Human said, standing. The man, wearing a Batman t-shirt, Levi’s denims and a Quicksilver hoodie, was approaching them. He entered the filing room, his eyes on Human.

‘Detective Human?’

‘Yes?’

‘My name is Kyle Devlin. Pleased to meet you.’ He extended his hand. Human shook it, frowning.

‘Devlin? That name ...’

Kyle spoke with difficulty. ‘My brother ... he was –’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Human said. ‘He was the last ... victim. In eighty-eight.’

Kyle nodded sombrely, forcing a smile to pursed lips. ‘That’s right.’ Human stood for a moment, not knowing what to say.

‘Oh please forgive my manners,’ he said pointing at Lerato. ‘This is detective Lerato Mathafeng.’ Lerato stood up and shook Kyle’s hand.

‘Pleased to meet you, detective.’ He looked at Human. ‘I ... I just wanted to meet you, detective. And to tell you I appreciate what you’re doing.’

‘Thank you, Mr Devlin. I –’

‘Kyle, please.’

‘Okay ... Kyle.’ Human smiled. ‘Thank you. I know it can’t be easy, now that the killer has returned.’