Presuming we are looking at the Souljacker killer, and everything points that way at the moment, let’s start with the first victim and work from there.’
Bradbury cleared his throat. ‘Clive Hale. Twenty-two years ago. Body found in a bedsit in Clevedon. Same MO as the subsequent killings.’
May wrote Hale’s name onto the whiteboard, the marker making a squeaking noise on the vinyl covering. ‘Same MO but not as tidy as the others. The incision marks around the eyes were less precise. Bits of the eyeballs were actually found at the scene, which never happened again. Also, the carving on the body not as intricate or smooth.’
‘He was less experienced then, probably fuelled by adrenalin and rushed the job,’ said Bradbury.
May agreed. It was normally the pattern with the serials. The first kill rushed, as if the killer had to get it out of their system, the subsequent killings becoming more sophisticated as the killer became more practised. There was also the opinion of the handwriting expert to consider. ‘Lana, what do we know about Clive Hale?’
As DC Lana Williams stood, May noticed Bradbury roll his eyes. ‘Hale was nineteen, and unemployed. He’d been in the care system most of his life. No immediate family, no convictions. He attended a local Presbyterian church in Clevedon on occasions but the investigating team at the time discovered that he hadn’t been going there for months.’ Lana’s delivery was succinct and confident.
‘What can we glean from this?’ May asked the team in general, nodding at Lana to sit down.
‘Looking at the subsequent victims, and the latest victim, a common theme is the lonely male and a certain religious affiliation,’ said Bradbury.
‘That is a very tentative link,’ said DC Stuart Welling. Welling was the oldest member of the team. Forever doomed to remain a DC, Welling carried a permanent chip on his shoulder. His role within the team seemed to be to question everyone else’s decision making. It was because of this that May had included him on her task force.
‘Why’s that, Stuart?’ she asked.
Welling frowned, and remained sitting. ‘For one, I wouldn’t agree that Terrence Haydon was a loner exactly. He lived alone but had a good job, and flat, and had some social interaction with his colleagues. The previous victim…’ May caught the slight reddening of Welling’s cheeks as he checked his notes. ‘Billy Nolan. Very socially active and a student at University. As for the religious aspect, that’s a lazy generalisation. Some of the victims went to church, many of different denominations, and the killer carves Latin onto them. That in itself doesn’t prove a religious aspect to the killings.’
Bradbury turned his head so he could see his colleague. His elbows were held out wide, his chest thrust forward. ‘It was only an observation,’ he said.
Welling’s eyes widened. He scratched his jaw as if in contemplation. ‘A poor one.’
Bradbury sighed and returned his focus to May.
‘Victim two,’ said May.
‘Proves the point,’ said Welling.
May stood with her arms by her sides and shifted her stance as she waited for Welling to speak.
Welling finally took the hint. ‘Graham Jackett. Local vet.’
‘Unmarried,’ said Bradbury.
‘Yes, but socially active. Killed three months after Hale. Like Hale, he was found in his home. This time a semi-detached property in Nailsea.’
‘Religious affiliation?’ asked May.
Welling sighed. ‘He attended the local Anglican church but I can’t see the relevance. The work on the body is much smoother this time. It almost becomes a template for the subsequent murders. The removal of the eyes is pristine.’
‘Pristine?’ said Bradbury.
Welling shifted in his seat. ‘No trace of jelly was left at the scene,’ said Welling, to general amusement. ‘The carving on the body was much neater. He took his time on this one.’
They went through each victim one by one until they reached David Welsh, the victim prior to Billy Nolan. ‘Twenty-eight year old welder,’ said Welling.
‘Lived alone, went to church,’ added Bradbury.
‘Means nothing. Then we reach the popular student, Billy Nolan,’ said Welling.
‘And then, eighteen years later, Terrence Haydon,’ said May. They had decided to stick to his original surname for the investigation. She began writing on the whiteboard. ‘So what we know? Prior to the thirty-eight year old Haydon, each former victim was a white male aged twenty to thirty. They all lived alone except the ninth victim, Billy Nolan.’
‘Technically, he did live alone. He had his own room in halls,’ said Bradbury.
‘Okay. White, male, twenty to thirty, lived alone. Anything else?’
‘I still think the religious aspect is important. Of the nine victims, we know six attended church,’ said Bradbury. ‘With Haydon, that makes seven out of ten.’
Everyone in the room turned to look at Welling. ‘I’m not saying it isn’t relevant but at the moment it isn’t a definite link.’
May agreed with both of them. ‘We need to look closer at the victims. There has to be something more than gender and age which links them. Lana, start looking at those victims who didn’t have a religious background. See if there was any oversight here. Maybe it was an area not considered by the investigative teams. Everyone else, I want to know everything about each of the victims. Go back to the start, go through the case notes and search for anything which links the victims. Bradbury, we’ve enough resources here for this. Assign a team to each victim starting with Hale. Let’s see what we have by nine a.m. tomorrow.’
May returned to her office and shut the door. She paced the room, recounting the details of the team meeting. She played with the files on her desk, opened then shut the blinds. She needed to calm down. They were close to something. There was already a tentative link between the victims, and it would only take one thing, one small link she was confident she would be able to connect everything. Despite Welling’s protestations, she thought the religious aspect was relevant and hoped the investigative teams would find something of value in their research.
She sat and tried to banish the negative thought that the one small link would never be discovered, that they would always remain just out of reach.
Bradbury called through on the internal phone line. ‘I’ve managed to track down the SIO on the former cases, Julian Hastings. He wants to meet at seven a.m. tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said May, hanging up. The retired Chief Superintendent had taken over as SIO from the Jackett case onwards. She could only imagine his frustration as he’d investigated victim after victim with no result. She bounced up and down on her chair, trying to control the adrenalin leaking into her system. From her office drawer, she took out her Kindle and downloaded a copy of Hastings’ last novel, Blood Kill, and began reading.
Klatzky
