James Carol: The Quiet Man

Anderton nodded for him to go on.

‘That’s the reason he’s obsessed with this. Somebody has stolen one of his things, and that’s completely unacceptable. Think about it. He’s got cars in his garage that he doesn’t drive, a plane he never flies and a house he doesn’t live in. Why do that? He does it because he’s a collector and, like any collector, all that matters is owning the thing you covet.’

‘And when you get hold of that thing, you’re going to keep hold,’ Anderton put in. ‘The only way you’re letting go is if it gets pried from your cold, dead hands.’

‘We need to keep an eye on him. The last thing we need is for him to go vigilante on us.’

‘Do you think that’s likely?’

‘I’m going to throw that question back. You’ve been dealing with him for the past three years. You know him as well as anyone. Do you think we should be concerned?’

Anderton didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The answer was written all over her face. This was something she would have considered, and she would have reached the same conclusion. He checked his cell phone again, but the text still hadn’t arrived. This would be a good moment for it to appear. The perfect moment. He gave it another couple of seconds but his phone stayed frustratingly silent.

‘Still no sign of that text you’re waiting for?’ Anderton said.

‘Still no sign. Okay, I’ve seen enough. What do you say we get the hell out of here?’

‘Marilyn Monroe,’ Winter said when they got back to the car.

‘And what does she have to do with anything?’

‘In the early hours of August 5, 1962, Marilyn Monroe was found dead in the bedroom of her house in Brentwood, California. If you believe the conspiracy theorists she was killed by the Kennedys. If you believe the LA County coroner she died of acute barbiturate poisoning. And if you believe Elton John then she was found in the nude.’

Anderton had the key in the ignition and was just about to turn it. She let go and the keyring rattled for a second before going quiet. ‘Do you have any idea how many hours we spent trying to work out the significance of that date?’

‘A few.’

‘More than a few. We looked at that date in every conceivable way, then we looked at it in every inconceivable way. When we were done looking at it do you know what we concluded?’

‘You concluded that it was arbitrary. I read your summation of the case.’

Anderton nodded. ‘Exactly. It’s arbitrary. The first murder was committed on August 5 three years ago. Why did the killer do that? Who knows? Maybe he just liked the way the planets were aligned. Anyway, a year passes and he gets the itch to kill again. August 5 is coming up and he’s got good memories of what happened on that day last year, so he thinks what the hell and kills his second victim on the anniversary.’

She paused for a breath. Winter could sense her frustration. It was evident in every word, every syllable. He knew exactly where she was coming from. There was nothing more infuriating than a puzzle that refused to be solved.

‘The unintended consequence was that he received a whole lot of attention that he wouldn’t otherwise have had. Human beings like patterns. We’re programmed to seek them out. So another year passes, and we’re approaching August 5 again. Only this time things are different. The media has got a hold of this and they’re winding the situation up. They’re pouring fuel on the fire and the flames are climbing higher. There’s a real sense of anticipation in the air. And our guy doesn’t want to disappoint.’

‘It’s a good theory,’ Winter said. ‘The problem is that it relies on coincidence. He commits the first murder on the fifth because the planets are aligned, then the second murder a year later on some nostalgic whim.’ He shook his head. ‘We’re dealing with a psychopath here and they’re not the nostalgic type. They’re pragmatic by nature. The bottom line: when it comes to serial killers, I’d prefer to steer clear of coincidence.’

‘So what’s your theory? Why the fifth?’

Winter shrugged. ‘Right now, I’ve got no idea.’

‘But you think it’s significant?’

He nodded. ‘If we can work out why this date is important, then we get an insight into who he is. The better we know him, the easier he’s going to be to hunt down. The successful hunter isn’t the one who chases the prey, it’s the one who understands it well enough to be waiting at the correct watering hole. Where, why, who. This ties into the why. That’s the road less travelled, but even the road less travelled will still get you to your destination.’

Anderton didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘Okay, you’ve turned me into a believer again. So how do you intend finding the answer?’

‘The obvious place to start looking is in the files from the first three murders. Hopefully there’s something in there that was missed. I made a start on the plane and my plan is to carry on looking tonight.’

‘There’s a lot of information there.’

She wasn’t wrong. In the old days it would have taken up at least three boxes, one for each murder. These days you could fit everything onto a flash drive and still have enough space left over for more music than you could listen to in a lifetime.

‘It’s a big day tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’m not anticipating getting much sleep.’

‘I’d offer to help but I’ve been through everything a hundred times. Backwards, forwards and sideways. It’s got to the point where I can’t see the forest for the trees.’

‘That’s the reason I’m here. Fresh eyes and a fresh perspective.’

‘And God knows we need it. Right now, everyone’s just hanging around waiting for this guy to strike. The problem with that approach is that it means that someone else has got to die before this investigation can start moving again. I can’t let that happen. Three women have already died. That’s three too many, if you ask me.’

‘That’s why we need to hit this thing from as many different angles as possible. In addition to going through the files, I want to talk to the other two husbands. That’s my first priority. They might not have seen the killer, but they witnessed the murders. We’re talking two degrees of separation here. On the basis of that, I need to speak to them.’

‘Eric Kirchner still lives in Vancouver, so that shouldn’t be a problem. David Hammond might be trickier. He moved to Montreal, where he’s trying hard to forget that any of this ever happened.’

‘Do you know where Kirchner lives?’

‘Yeah, it’s not far from your hotel. While we’re down that way we can get you checked in and drop off your case.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Anderton turned the key in the ignition and the engine burst to life. Before she could pull away, Winter’s cell phone vibrated. He took it out and checked the screen. There was one new text. It was short and sweet, confirmation of a meeting that he’d been trying to sort out ever since he had an ETA for his flight landing in Vancouver.

Anderton waited for him to look up. ‘Judging by your expression, I’m figuring that’s the text you’ve been waiting for.’

He nodded.

‘Good news or bad?’

‘That depends on your perspective. If I said the name Charlotte Delaney, how would you respond?’

‘As in Charlotte Delaney the crime reporter?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘In that case I’d respond by telling you that the woman was a bottom-feeding, soulless, bloodsucking vampire. And that’s being polite.’

‘That’s what I thought. So, from your perspective, I’d say that the news isn’t so good.’

Anderton’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on, Winter? Why is Delaney sending you texts?’