Alex Gray - Never Somewhere Else

A rat-a-tat was knocked on his door and Solly’s bearded face peeped round. His habitual smile was sheepish.

‘Chief Inspector.’

‘Dr Brightman.’

‘I’m sorry for the delay.’

‘Well, now you’re here, let’s get down to business.’

Solly sat by the window and unbuckled his battered, soft-hide briefcase. He glanced up and gave a shy smile, as if he were about to offer a explanation for his lateness.

‘You have the recording?’ he said instead.

‘Of course. Do you want to hear it now or would you rather discuss … whatever it is you’re so anxious to tell me?’

Lorimer did not try to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. Immediately he was annoyed with himself and wondered how to counter the resentment that this mild-mannered young man provoked in him. Their working relationship had to improve, he thought, or rather his own attitude to it.

‘I’ll come straight to the point.’ Solly crossed his legs and leaned forward slightly. ‘Why was there no rape?’

Lorimer stared at the psychologist for a moment before answering.

‘But there isn’t always a sexual motive in serial killings.’

The dark head of the psychologist nodded up and down and the huge eyes peered owlishly from behind the tortoiseshell spectacles. He took a cursory glance at the notes he had extracted from his briefcase.

‘I’m concerned that there is no evidence of any sexual motive. Unless this man is simply a fetishist — and I don’t believe he is — there should have been signs of sexual activity. The crimes point to the sort of killer who would achieve a sexual gratification from strangling his victims.’ He paused, as if to let this sink in. ‘Both strangulation and the taking of trophies normally coincide with sexual activity.’

‘You mean rape?’

‘Not always. As you know yourself, some of these serial killers are impotent and use their victims’ fear to heighten their own sexual urges. The absence of semen or any other bodily fluids is surprising.’

‘Perhaps he was clever enough to know about DNA fingerprinting?’ Lorimer suggested wryly.

‘I think he’s even cleverer than that, Chief Inspector.’

The psychologist uncrossed his legs, stood up and turned to look out of the window. When he spoke again, it was almost to himself.

‘I think he is very clever indeed. In fact, I believe he’s leading us up the garden path.’

Lorimer waited. hands clasped under his chin, staring at the enigmatic figure before him. He had the sudden feeling that something momentous was taking place. It was a sensation that left him outside, like an observer. For once, he was surprised to note, such a feeling did not trouble him.

‘Chief Inspector.’ Solly had turned round and Lorimer saw the bearded face, solemn and sad as if some profound insight had wiped away that customary smile. I don’t think we’re looking for a serial killer. Oh, I know he’s killed three young women’ — Solly held up his hand to forestall Lorimer’s protest — ‘I know he went for Alison Girdley. But it just doesn’t fit.’

‘What doesn’t fit?’

Solly sat down again with a sigh.

‘He kills three girls with a bicycle chain. He scalps them and retains their hair. Then he takes them to a park where they will be found by a member of the public. Why?’

‘If I knew why, I’d have had a better chance of apprehending him by now,’ Lorimer replied testily.

Solly nodded sadly again.

‘He wanted to kill. There is no apparent sexual motivation. There is no sign of any preliminary torture or menace. We have Alison Girdley’s statement showing that he lured her near enough to lash out and kill. That’s all he wanted. To kill.’

‘Or to obtain scalps?’

‘If he is a genuine fetishist he would be likely to have a history of mental illness. Your trawl of the hospital records would have uncovered something. Probably.’

‘Wait till you hear what he says on the tape,’ Lorimer replied, pulling open his desk drawer.

He removed a cassette from an evidence bag then slotted it into the tape recorder on his desk. Solly stared intently as the play button was pushed. There was a moment’s silence, then a nervous throat-clearing before a Scottish voice proclaimed: ‘I killed those girls.’ There was a pause that would have done justice to Solly’s own deliberate manner. ‘Can you guess what colour I’m going to have next?’ Another pause was followed by a snigger then the sound of a telephone being put down.

Lorimer watched the man opposite as he listened intently. Solly’s gaze never wavered.

‘Again,’ he said.

Lorimer rewound the tape and they listened to the words falling into the space between them.

‘So.’ Lorimer fixed his blue gaze on Solly. ‘Do you still rule out the theory that we have a killer who is fixated with scalping young girls?’

Solly did not reply immediately, but sat frowning in concentration, biting his lower lip.

‘I agree that the victims were selected at random,’ he began, then added, ‘Mostly.’

‘Mostly?’

‘Yes. I believe one of these girls was known to him. I believe that he has very cleverly tried to make us think that we are dealing with some maniac who compulsively kills and scalps young women for some sort of perverted pleasure.’ Solly shook his head, then continued, ‘I don’t believe that. I think he is putting up some sort of smokescreen. He has killed two young women at random to cover up the premeditated murder of a third.’

Lorimer’s eyes hardened, but not because he disbelieved the psychologist. He had encountered some violent criminals in his career, but never anyone capable of such cold-blooded intent.

‘You mean Donna Henderson was deliberately stalked and killed, then the others were used to make it look like a spate of serial killings?’

‘Yes. Perhaps. He puts a deliberate signature on these deaths; the chain, the scalping, the removal of the bodies to the park. He wants us to think that there is a serial killer on the loose. But it’s all too deliberate. Too neat.’ Solly’s voice drifted off in thought.

‘You really don’t think this is a serial killer, despite the attempt on Alison Girdley’s life?’

‘No. He’s clever. He’s well read.’ Solly’s grin returned. ‘He may even have been a student of psychology.’

Lorimer returned the smile.

‘God help us.’

The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Solly continued to smile and then nodded, acknowledging the new sense of co-operation between them.

‘Well,’ Lorimer’s tone became brisk again, ‘We’ll have to go back over the Donna Henderson case with a fine-tooth comb. If what you believe is true, there are going to be some disgruntled police officers raking over the same facts and figures.’ Lorimer took a deep breath. ‘How would you profile him?’

‘The tape helps, of course, but I would say he is white, single, in his early thirties. He may suffer from some sort of personality disorder.’

‘Schizophrenia?’

‘Possibly. He may well be as outraged as the next man when he reads about the murders, if he does have such an illness. But it’s early days to speculate on his mental health. He’s probably a professional who works and lives on his own. He’s not taking the scalps home to mother. Usually multiple killers have backgrounds of deprivation in their childhood: a lack of moral guidance. So he may have been orphaned or illegitimate.’

‘I’m still concerned about that ambulance. How does it figure in your profile?’

‘Yes. That’s interesting. I wonder if he uses it for transporting equipment of some kind. A pity the Girdley girl didn’t see inside.’

‘She won’t think so!’