Ezekiel, page 10
‘He wanted to see her suffer,’ said Cathy. ‘And he was taking his time.’ She squatted, looked at Linda’s wrist and the bed legs. ‘She was giving all she was worth to get free. Ripping herself on the nylon, to the extent that the rope even cut into the wooden bed legs.’
‘All limbs the same,’ said Paul. ‘She fought as much as she could. This probably enhanced his enjoyment.’
‘Do you think the serial rapist could have escalated to this?’ asked Johnson. ‘He’s been getting more and more violent.’
‘No.’ Paul shook his head. ‘I’m positive this is a different offender.’
‘They both use black tape.’
‘But for different reasons,’ added Paul.
‘True,’ nodded Cathy. ‘What about those long cuts right down her sides and across her midriff?’
‘They are very deep. He opened her up. It’s like a door to her organs.’
‘Fuck!’
‘He used a box cutter and left it for us to see. Looks brand new.’
‘Is she still intact in there?’
‘Seems to be. Of course, we’ll know more after we move her to the lab.’
‘Sexual assault?’
‘Not in the usual way.’ The two stepped to the other end of the bed. ‘He cut her inside. Vaginally and anally. No semen. No obvious saliva. Given the relatively small amount of blood in these areas I think these cuts were done when she was close to death, and he was unable to arouse her. Possibly a last-ditch effort to wake her up.’
‘How long was he with her?’
‘Two, maybe three hours. Time of death approximately midday. The final slash there in her groin was what killed her. Cut through the femoral artery. Some spurting of blood across the bed here…’ he pointed the tweezers ‘…and on the carpet there.’ He indicated the line of blood spots. ‘Normally an arterial cut like that would go further, but by then she had lost so much blood her pressure was well down. Overall, pretty untidy, this might have been his first time.’
‘What the fuck. You think we can expect more?’
Paul shrugged his shoulders. ‘Who knows.’
‘You have anything on the killer?’
‘Nothing much so far. We’re fairly sure all prints and loose hair belong to the family. We have found a couple of good boot prints outside near the water tank. Size twelve. K-Mart hikers we think. He had cased the joint before coming in. Knew she was alone.’
‘She was attacked at her office yesterday afternoon,’ said Johnson. ‘She was quite distraught. She was to come to the station and give a comprehensive statement today. The guy from yesterday is still in custody so he’s off the hook. But he has acquaintances that we’ll be following up.’
‘May not be related. This is more than just a payback murder.’
‘It’s a place to start and I don’t like coincidences. And we have a shopping list to check on – smelling salts, box cutter and yellow nylon rope.’
‘You can add T-bone steak to the list. He gave that to the dog to shut him up… and oh yes, the dog’s dead by the way. Some sort of poison on the meat.’
‘Some level of organisation for a first timer.’
‘Clearly not an idiot,’ said Paul. ‘Forward planning for sure.’
‘You seen anything like this before?’
‘Plenty of brutal murders but nothing resembling this.’
‘Call me when you know more. I should try to talk with the family.’
‘Of course.’ Paul nodded his farewell. Detective Johnson left.
When she left the house and entered the carport, she took a moment. Bent over with her hands on her knees, she took a deep breath. Larkin moved alongside.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
Johnson stood upright again and began removing her protective bits and pieces. ‘Don’t worry about it. Let’s see how things are progressing with the father and son.’
Chapter 20
What’s the Story?
It was four o’clock on the Friday afternoon when Dave, Tallon’s father, posted the twenty thousand dollars bail, and collected his son from the watch-house. The family lawyer had tried to negotiate a significantly lesser amount, but the judge would hear nothing of it, and stressed the seriousness of the two charges of aggravated assault occasioning bodily harm, and unlawful possession of a weapon.
The lawyer had assured Dave that he would, at the very least, get the assault charge downgraded to common assault, and that at worst, there would just be a fine and a period of probation. Although Tallon had been arrested before, no charges were ever recorded. This was mainly due to intervention by Frank Mortimer, who arranged for a couple of his friends to visit and have some private one on one time with the aggrieved persons. The net result was them refuting or watering down their earlier stories and complaints.
Tallon collected his bits and pieces from the desk sergeant before he left – his NY cap, denim jacket, belt, mobile phone, wallet, and the sketch of himself drawn by Ezekiel, which no one doubted belonged to him. As he walked to the car with his father, he turned on his phone. There were two voicemails and one text message. A sexy sounding voicemail from Chocolate asked him to call back about some “supply” issues. The other was from Toby, one of his boys, wondering when and where they should meet for their Friday evening boys get together. The text was from Quentin – we need to catch up privately, please reply as soon as you can.
‘Anything important?’ asked his father. Dave had a gravelly voice that always sounded like he had laryngitis. He lit up a smoke as they walked. At just a little short of two metres tall, the lanky drug dealing dad strode out, forcing Tallon to take nearly double the number of steps to keep up.
‘Not really,’ replied Tallon dismissively.
‘You have to reappear in court in six weeks.’
‘Yeah. Tommy reckons it’ll be a fine and probation.’
‘So he says. You need to be more careful. Get someone else to look after your dirty laundry.’
‘I know, Dad. Sorry. The bitch provoked me. Honestly, I had done nothing wrong. I was polite and answered all her questions, then she suddenly wants me to piss off. Stupid. Doesn’t make sense. And I needed to finish the assessment so my dickhead GP will keep giving me prescriptions.’ Tallon decided to keep the drawing matter to himself for now.
‘I don’t doubt what you say. But there has to be more to it than that. So, she recognises you. So what? She would need to know something about you. Like your dealing history, or that you had ulterior motives for getting the scripts.’
‘Well, I’ve never seen her before. I can’t explain it. Can you drop me at AJ’s Coffee Spot, I’ll catch up with the boys there?’
‘Sure. When will we see you at home? Your mother gets anxious. And you being locked up hasn’t helped.’
‘Probably tomorrow sometime.’
* * *
At five, Quentin walked into AJ’s. Tallon was at a table on his own flicking quickly through a magazine.
‘Hey,’ said Quentin. ‘Shall I grab us coffee?’
‘Hey. Yeah sure. Then get back here. I’m itching to find out what’s going on.’
‘Ah… yeah… okay.’ Quentin ordered two cappuccinos. He stood there waiting for them, turning his head a couple of times, and giving Tallon a silly grin with a raised eyebrow. The young girl smiled warmly as she placed the coffees on the counter. ‘Will that be all, sir?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’ He pushed a ten dollar note to her. ‘Keep the change.’ He returned to his companion.
‘Well?’ Tallon leaned a little over the table.
Quentin looked around. There were six other people at tables and two workers behind the counter. He stroked his chin. ‘This is pretty delicate information.’
‘Well. Say it softly for fuck’s sake. Just tell me!’
‘Have you heard any news reports this arvo?’
‘Fuck no. I’ve been in the watch-house. The old man drove me straight here.’
Quentin lifted both hands and moved them slightly up and down. ‘Shush a little now.’ He changed chairs so he was sitting next to his friend rather than across from him.
‘Did you get the script pad?’ asked Tallon.
‘Yeah, yeah… I did… but I’m not sure it’ll be any good… you see she’s dead.’
‘What!’ blurted Tallon louder than he wanted to. A couple of customers glanced over. ‘Sorry,’ he said more discretely. ‘Dead how? When? What about plan B?’
‘Plan B was cancelled. She had escorts that saw her all the way to her car. So, I followed her home,’ Quentin whispered with his mouth close to Tallon’s ear. ‘Waited till she was alone this morning and did a fucking number on her.’ He swallowed heavily while his eyes flicked side to side. He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
‘We need to go.’ Tallon stood up and grabbed his mate’s arm. Quentin tried to take a gulp of coffee. ‘Leave the fucking coffee. Where have you parked?’
‘Just around the corner.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’ The two were out the door and moving quickly down the footpath. ‘Don’t say another word till we’re in the car.’
After two hundred metres they arrived at the blue ute. Tallon took the keys, jumped in, and slammed the door. Quentin felt a little concern at what his friend was thinking. He dropped into the passenger’s seat.
‘Are you telling me you killed Hartnell?’
‘Just this morning, yeah,’ nodded Quentin. He pushed his fingers over his brow.
‘You followed her home and parked nearby in my car?’
‘Ah ha.’
‘There’s your first mistake.’
‘It was dark. No one saw me.’
‘There is no way you can be positive of that. You were there this morning in the daylight for fuck’s sake.’
‘I parked like a kilometre away and walked there at five this morning. It was still dark then.’
‘Jesus, Quentin. I just wanted the script pad but it’s fucking useless now.’
‘I know. There was no point in even taking it. Not sure why I even did. Just to show you I guess.’
‘When you say you did a number on her. What do you mean exactly?’
‘You said you know what I like. You put on that flick for me, remember? Well… that’s what I did. I carved the bitch up good and proper.’ He put his hands behind his head and slid them forward over his hair and down his face. ‘Didn’t really want her to die. That was not my plan.’
‘You wanted to torture her. For her to suffer and feel horrible pain,’ said Tallon. He looked at his friend who just looked back and said nothing. ‘You are my mate. I’m not about to discourage you from doing shit that you get off on. But you gotta be better than this. You can’t go leaving bodies around. You do that, and that future you want will disappear. You’ll spend most of your life locked up.’
‘Yeah, I went overboard. I know. When she died, I was disappointed. I tried to wake her, but it was no use.’
‘What did you leave behind?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
‘Hair, fingerprints… semen?’
‘No. I was gloved. Long sleeves. Jeans. Hoody. Face mask.’
‘Condom?’
‘I didn’t fuck her. Didn’t want to.’
‘Really!’
Quentin looked down at the floor of the car. A slight smile started, and he turned to look at Tallon. ‘I did mess in my jocks… twice,’ he said, now smiling broadly.
‘You know you are one fucking crazy animal.’ Tallon leant over and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders and pulled him to his side. ‘But I still love you, fuckhead.’
The two young men remained in the car and sat quietly, listening to the radio and waiting for the six o’clock news.
‘You gotta tell me what happened with you,’ said Quentin.
‘Oh, I got something. Nothin’ to rival your story,’ smiled Tallon.
The ABC radio news music started…
Police remain at the scene of the brutal murder of prominent local psychiatrist, Dr Linda Hartnell. The Fernvale home of Dr Hartnell is now a crime scene and forensic officers are collecting evidence. The lead Detective in the case, Detective Cathy Johnson said the murder took place mid-morning and appealed to the public for anyone with information to come forward. “If anyone has seen any persons acting suspiciously in the Fernvale area in the last forty-eight hours please contact your local police station or Crime-Stoppers immediately.” Detective Johnson said they already had leads they were following up…
Tallon pushed the off button. ‘They have leads.’
‘So they say. I burned everything I was wearing. There are no leads. There is no evidence.’
‘The police will want to talk to all my known associates. That could be difficult for you. I can’t go denying I know you as too many others know different. We’re going to need to do some rehearsal so you got legit answers and have an alibi.’
‘Sure.’
‘Now, my less dramatic news is that it looks like our lawyer will negotiate and get me a fine and probation. I held a knife to her throat after she showed me this…’ Tallon pulled the folded sketch from his pocket and passed it over. Quentin flicked on the internal car light.
‘Wow! Nice drawing.’
‘Yeah. How does some dude, that I don’t even know, called Ezekiel, draw that? Even down to the clothes I was wearing and the baseball cap. What the fuck!’
‘He must’ve seen you somewhere in that gear.’
‘It was only when she compared me to the damn picture that she told me to fuck off. She was scared.’
‘This is freaky.’
‘His last name is Goffman or Kaufmann or something like that. Didn’t get time to see her records before security barged in. Need to check the spelling and find this prick,’ said Tallon. Quentin passed the sketch back. Tallon tapped the image with his finger. ‘Gotta find this guy. He’s fucking trouble. I’m thinking he’s going to be bad for business and the cunt got me locked up.’
‘Let’s find him together,’ said Quentin.
‘We keep all this to ourselves. Your story for all time of course. Mine, is pretty personal, and it would be good for us to work on our detective skills and find this prick,’ said Tallon. ‘The boys don’t need to be involved for now.’
‘Agreed.’ They both nodded and shook hands.
Chapter 21
Visiting Hours
All physical investigations and tests into Ezekiel’s bloody vomit had been completed and the results were mostly unremarkable. The only explanation for the bleeding was a small tear seen on the lining of his stomach, which the gastroenterologist thought too tiny to have bled so profusely, but for want of a better diagnosis labelled it an “atypical gastric abrasion.” It was forty-eight hours since the episode, and he seemed to have returned to his usual self and was once more uttering the phrase - I decline to give an answer that some may misinterpret as a sign or symptom of a mental disorder which I do not have - this was being interpreted as him continuing to experience hallucinations and delusions that he was not prepared to articulate. And as such was enough reason for the medication to continue. In addition, diazepam, temazepam and haloperidol had been added to his order to be given as required.
Ezekiel continued to be accommodated in a single unlocked room. The one-on-one nurse special had been ceased twenty-four hours earlier.
The teenager was free to leave the room and wander around the adolescent mental health unit, engage in activities and join others for meals in the dining room. When he walked past the TV he heard on the news that a prominent psychiatrist had been murdered. He didn’t need any more information. He already knew it was Linda Hartnell.
On day five at breakfast he sat at a small square table where two other patients were sitting. Louisa was fifteen and on her seventeenth admission. She was a girl of slight build with a narrow face that made her features appear a little too close together. Her hair was long and blonde with a centimetre of brown regrowth. She wore black track pants and a black t-shirt, making no attempt to hide her arms which, on the underside, were mostly scar tissue from her wrists right up to the sleeves of the t-shirt. There was a line of sutures holding two recent cuts together near each elbow. It seemed that about half of those in the ward were self-harmers of one variety or another. His other companion for breakfast was Marcus, a boy of similar age to himself, with an excoriated red circle around his neck that wasn’t hidden by his polo shirt. His eyes were very bloodshot. His dark hair was thick and untidy. There were track marks on both arms. They started their meal – porridge, toast with poached eggs, orange juice and coffee.
‘I am Ezekiel.’
‘Louisa,’ said the girl without making eye contact.
‘I’m Marcus. Just got here yesterday. Was in intensive care. Not sure how long I was there. This place is fucked. Been here before.’
‘You hoped to die this time,’ said Ezekiel.
‘If he really wanted to die, he’d be dead,’ snapped Louisa without lifting her head from her porridge. ‘I could die if I wanted. Maybe I will too.’
‘You don’t know me,’ said Marcus. ‘Never really wanted to end it before. This time I did.’ He leaned over the table. ‘Tried hard but fucked up. Next time,’ he said softly with a nod before sitting back. ‘Waking up was the worst fucking thing.’ He shoved his porridge away and lightly rubbed his fingers over his red neck.
‘Drugs have helped you at times, Marcus,’ said Ezekiel.
‘Yeah. My sort. Not the shit they give you here.’
‘I’ve overdosed a hundred times,’ said Louisa. She picked at the edge of her toast.
‘Overdoses are not the way to go. Too much can go wrong.’ Marcus turned his head side to side. ‘So sore.’
‘Cutting is not a suicide attempt for you, is it Louisa? But it makes you feel good for a while. Gives you a break from a toxic world.’
She slowly raised her head. ‘And what’s your story? Are you a fucking undercover counsellor, snow globe?’
‘Ezekiel.’
