Daddy Long Legs (35 page)

‘Your mirror?’

Kyle told the policeman about the strange message he had found in his hotel room, scrawled in Angelique’s expensive lipstick. ‘Just some fuckhead, trying to get me riled up. You know the people in a little town. Nothing better to do with their time.’ Human nodded contemplatively, a frown on his face. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Kyle motioned for Lucinda and ordered another round of drinks. And changed the topic.

Eventually the conversation drifted towards everyone’s favourite topic. Serial killers. Lucinda sat on the edge of her seat, mesmerised.

‘So, one thing I’ve been wondering about, ever since the whole thing began again,’ Kyle said, ‘is why does it seem as if there are so many more serial killers around these days. I mean, sure, except for ole Jack the Ripper, it seems as if serial killers are almost entirely a modern phenomenon. I mean, what, is that true?’

‘Well, yes and no. The debate’s been raging for several decades. Some people point to killers like Gilles de Montmorency-Laval, Baron de Rais.’

‘Baron de
what
?’ Lucinda almost fell from her stool as she leaned forward, totally enthralled.

Human smiled. ‘Baron de Rais. He was a Breton knight. And a contemporary of Joan of Arc, believe it or not ... around the fifteenth century.’

‘Wow.’

‘He dabbled in the occult and was suspected of luring hundreds of children to his estate, sodomising them and then murdering them.’

‘No ways.’

‘Oh yes. He would lure the children, mostly boys, to his estate. The poor peasant children were then dressed in the finest clothes and wined and dined. Afterwards he would take the children upstairs to a secret room, where they would be tortured – while hanging from a hook. When he was done he would usually decapitate the children. Afterwards, he would kiss the bodies and admire especially beautiful limbs. He would also spend a great deal of time mutilating the corpses.’

‘Holy shit. That sounds like Dahmer or that weird guy on the farm, the one that inspired
Silence of the Lambs
.’

‘Ed Gein.’

‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

‘So yes, serial killers are not an entirely modern phenomenon. I mean, would you say Nero was a serial killer ... or Caligula. Or what about Atilla the Hun or Genghis Khan?’

‘Wow. That’s a good point, detective,’ Kyle said.

‘Call me Wayne, please.’ Human had visibly relaxed. His former awkward posture on the stool had now become loose and laid-back. Kyle smiled surreptitiously. They downed the shooters, Human completely forgetting his former objections.

Human turned to Lucinda, enjoying the audience. ‘You’ll never believe who the youngest serial killer was?’ Lucinda’s eyes widened with anticipation. ‘It wasn’t a man. And he wasn’t in his twenties or thirties.’

‘Yes?’

‘It was ten-year old girl.’

Lucinda slammed the bar counter. ‘Shut the front door. No. You’re making this up.’

Human laughed. Kyle noted with some satisfaction that the detective was properly plastered. He ordered another round. ‘No ways. It’s all true ... girlfriend!’ Kyle chuckled. It was about time the detective relaxed a bit. And Kyle was the esteemed master of ceremonies. Let the party begin! ‘Her name was Mary Bell, and she was one day short of her eleventh birthday when she killed for the first time.’ Lucinda gasped. ‘Oh yeah. Eleven years old. She strangled a four-year old boy. A few days later she killed another three-year old boy. Then mutilated his penis. And scratched an “M” into his body.’

‘No.’ Lucinda’s hand was in front of her mouth.

‘Hell yes. She apparently wrote somewhere that she killed “so that I can come back” or something like that. Crazy, huh?’ Human turned to Kyle, his eyes bleary from booze.

‘Shit, that’s crazy,’ Kyle said. He handed Human a shooter glass. ‘Okay. Okay. Enough about all this morbid stuff.’ Lucinda looked at Kyle with resentment. You’ll make me commit suicide.’ They downed the shooters. Kyle slammed the glass down on the counter. ‘I wanted to ask you about something else, actually?’

Human pointed both index fingers at Kyle. ‘Shoot.’

Kyle leaned forward. It was already pitch dark outside. They had been drinking for more than two hours. And they were the only ones left in the bar. Slow night. ‘What’s happening between you and that cute black girl? Your assistant.’

Human turned his head away. Kyle could swear he saw a shadow of smile on his face. ‘Uh-huh, uh-huh. What’s that?’ He asked pointing at Human. ‘Come on give us the dirt.’

Human composed himself. He spoke slowly, a slight slur audible in his words. It was obvious that he was very drunk. ‘Detective Lerato Mathafeng is a very capable, very formidable policewoman.’ Human paused. ‘And she’s an amazing person. And I am ... I am very honoured to have her on top of me. I ... I mean under me.’ Kyle broke out with laughter. Lucinda also began giggling. ‘I mean, oh God, whatever. You’ll twist this whatever way you want. Frikking pervert.’ Kyle laughed even louder, almost falling from his chair. Human pointed to Kyle’s packet of Camels. ‘Give me a cigarette.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Kyle saluted him. Then handed him a smoke and lit it. The detective dragged inexpertly, grimacing.

‘Do you want to know something, Kyle Devlin?’

‘Yes, sir. I do. I do. Oh hell, I do.’ Lucinda laughed at the two drunken men before her.

‘Lerato Mathafeng. Detective Lerato Mathafeng,’ Human said, waving the cigarette in the air, ‘is one of the most amazing women I have ever met. And one of the most beautiful. In a different world. In a different place. I would ask her to marry me. Tomorrow.’ Kyle’s hand flew to his mouth. He giggled drunkenly.

‘I knew it. I knew it.’ Dammit!’

‘But this is not a different world, Kyle Devlin. And I have a wife.’ Kyle’s laughter died down, as he sensed a darkening in his drinking partner. ‘I have a wife who never phones me. I have a wife who never watches me on TV. I have a wife, Kyle Devlin, who sniffs my cock when I come home at night.’ The cigarette dropped from Kyle’s lips. He exchanged a shocked glance with Lucinda. ‘Yes, she sniffs my cock. Because she thinks I’m sleeping with my black whores.’

‘Shit man, that’s insane,’ Kyle said, picking up his cigarette slowly.

‘And you know what, Kyle Devlin. I did. Once upon a time. Just once. I did. I did sleep .... with my black whore.’

‘Crazy,’ Kyle whispered under his breath.

‘She was beautiful. And innocent. Yes. She was a prostitute. But she was innocent. In a way this sick world can’t wait to crush.’ All the joviality suddenly drained from the bar. And a dark thing took its place. Kyle regretted changing the topic. ‘And her name was Sasha. And she was the most preciously beautiful thing I had ever seen.’ Human drank slowly from his glass. Staring morbidly into space, a vacant expression on his face. ‘A serial killer was operating in Hillbrow a few years ago; killing prostitutes. At least a dozen girls had disappeared. At least. And of course, no-one gave a damn. These were just prostitutes after all. But she was different.

‘One day while interviewing some of the girls I met her. She was ...’ He paused. ‘She was radiant and beautiful. There was something pure and unblemished about her. Something lost and preciously fragile.’ He paused, staring deep into a memory. ‘She wore a polka dot green skirt, with matching fedora and green wedge shoes.’ Human took a sip from his drink. ‘At first she only helped me with the investigation. Most of the girls are unwilling to talk to police so she spoke to them instead, on my behalf. I saw her more and more often. I gave her money to stay off the streets.’

‘One day she came to the police station. She brought me a gift; a little keychain that said “My Hero”. By this stage I realised that I was in love with her. It just happened. It was ... one of those things.’ Human spoke softly, his voice flat and emotionless. His words were barely audible above the Madonna track. And yet his words filled the entire room. ‘It was the first time in my life that I felt like that. She had become, in a very short period, the centre of my life. And I had to protect her. I had to get her off the streets. As long as the killer was loose, she would never be safe. I did something I had never done before; I broke police protocol. I organised for her to stay in one of our Randburg safe houses.’ Human looked at Kyle to gauge his reaction. But there was nothing there. He continued. ‘It’s a small modest house. But she loved it. Her delight ... and joy was pure and child-like. It was beautiful to see. She loved that place. For the next week I worked during the day while she stayed at the house. At nights I would go there to join her. It was the best time of my life. For the first time I understood the joy of ...’ Human stared down at his feet, ‘ ... of lovemaking.’ Lucinda stared at Human, enraptured by his story. ‘Of course, there were ... difficulties. Sasha had spent that time withdrawing from crack Cocaine. It’s not so much physical as emotional. But it was very tough on her. Very ... very tough. Yet ... she persisted.’ Human paused for what seemed an eternity. ‘That Thursday we received a call. Another body had been discovered. In an old abandoned synagogue in Berea. I drove to the crime scene, relieved that Sasha was off the streets.’ Human picked up his drink and downed the contents in one gulp. He took a cigarette from Kyle’s pack and lit one, grimacing. ‘A beggar had discovered the body. Under a carton box. In a corner of the old synagogue. I slowly made my way to the body, fighting my way through trash. And that’s when I saw it.’ Kyle leaned forward slowly. ‘The shoes. The dead girl under the box. She was wearing green wedge shoes.’

Lucinda’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God.’

‘It was Sasha.’ A dark shadow fell over Human’s features. Tears welled up in his eyes. He stared at his warped image reflected in his empty glass. ‘My world fell away, crumbled. It felt like all the beauty had suddenly been drained from the universe.’

‘Wow.’ Lucinda was pale in the sharp glare of the fluorescent lights.

‘That’s where everything started. That’s when I started to learn about these sick people we call serial killers. I learned everything. I studied profiling. Case files. I read everything I could find. Watched everything I could get. Everything. I met with members of the Investigative Psychology Unit. I tried to learn as much as possible. In as little time as possible. And then, when I was done. I returned. And I revisited the case. Within two weeks I had nettled the suspect list down to two. Then one. I tracked him down. Using everything  I had learned, I found him. I learned who he was. And where he lived. And one night ...’ A cold glint sparkled in Human’s eyes. ‘One night ... I went there.’

‘Oh my God,’ Kyle whispered, knowing what was coming.

‘I went to the place where he lived. A derelict block of flats. Moses Mohapi was his name. And he was the janitor of the building where two of the bodies had been discovered. With the extreme narcissistic arrogance of the serial killer, he had even reported one of his own crimes. And I went there. And I climbed the stairs. One at a time. Slowly. One at a time. And then I reached his floor. And I stood before his door. And I knocked.’ Lucinda had both hands up to her mouth. She was pale. And terrified. ‘And I announced myself. And he opened the door. And he stood there. And I showed him my badge. And he sneered. He laughed. And he said. He said. ‘What took you cunts so long?’ Just like that. His exact words. And I pulled out a pistol. Not my service pistol. That would have been stupid. No. I pulled out a pistol I bought on the street.’

The song died down. The end of the CD. Silence took its place. A huge. Billowing silence. Awesome. And terrifying.

‘And for the first time he registered fear. He stank of it. His fear. Because he knew what I had come to do. He changed instantly. From an arrogant bastard ... to a terrified little boy. Pleading for his life. Telling me I couldn’t shoot him. I was SAPS. I couldn’t shoot him, he said. But he didn’t know me. He didn’t know who I was. And I calmly aimed the pistol at his groin. While he cried and pleaded. And I said, ‘This is for Sasha. The girl with the green shoes.’ I said that ... because I wanted him to know ... why he was going to die.’

On the wall behind them the clock ticked. It was thunderous. A doomsday clock. Eating away at the life of the world. The teeming silence filled every space. Crushing the room under its weight. Destroying everything before it. Kyle felt sick. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. He looked at Lucinda. But she was completely and utterly absorbed in Human’s words. In his dark confession.

‘And then I pulled the trigger. I was calm. I didn’t feel a thing. Not a single thing. And he squirmed on the floor. Howling and crying. Convulsing with the pain of the nine mill bullet that destroyed his manhood. And then I stepped over him. And he looked at me. And he begged me to stop. He begged me. And I aimed at his forehead. And I squeezed the trigger. And his forehead exploded. And he was silent.’ Human drained his glass. ‘I left an anonymous tip with my detectives. And the next morning I went there with my team, “to investigate”. We discovered his dead body. And a whole horde of trinkets and cheap jewellery – all belonging to his victims. His trophies. Amongst the trinkets there was a keychain with the words ‘My Hero’ emblazoned on it. His murder was never investigated. We “surmised” that one of his victims had finally gotten the better of him. I advised that the case be closed. And that was that.’ No-one spoke. For a long time the silence roared inside the stuffy bar. ‘When everything was done – a few weeks later – I went back to the Randburg safe house. Sasha had left me a letter on that day ... the day he killed her. She begged my forgiveness ... and understanding. She had tried, she wrote, tried to stay clean. But she couldn’t do it anymore. She had begged me, in the letter, not to abandon her.’ Human stood up. A blank expression on his face. ‘I am tired. I’m going to sleep.’ His voice was vacant. Blank.