Love Story, With Murders by Harry Bingham Read Free Book Online Page B

arms were stored in Ryan Humphrys’s roof for
the full five years.’
    She emphasises those words:
highly unlikely
. I realise that nearly everyone is writing notes in their notebook. I’m not. I look keen instead.
    Watkinshas found a psychologist from somewhere to give a psych briefing. Those things are normally mind-numbingly stupid, amounting to little more than, ‘I think your killer may not be
quite right in the head.’ A tedious message wrapped up in half-baked jargon and faux-scientific references. The tarot of modern criminal investigation.
    This time, however, the psychologist – a tired-looking guy fromSwansea – has a little more to offer. He notes that the Langton killing is odd for at least three reasons. One, the
dismemberment. Two, the very wide distribution of body parts. Three, the apparent efforts made to preserve the body parts (the freezer, the barrel of oil, the airtight wrapping of the arms) may
suggest some novel type of disorder or obsession.
    ‘Naturally, it’s possible,’says the psychologist, ‘that the killer distributed body parts in order to confuse and deflect any criminal investigation. That could be a
rational behaviour under the circumstances. But there are other ways to deflect attention and of course disposing of the corpse so that it isn’t found at all might have been an even more
rational course of action.’ He pauses. Most of these guys are wannabedetectives, but he’s aware he won’t be loved for trampling on our turf. He backs off.
    ‘What I
would
say is that the dismembering of corpses has been strongly associated in the past with offenders suffering from various personality disorders, often with possible
schizoid features. Speculating further, I’d suggest it’s reasonably probable that the killer chose to retain at least one item forhimself as a kind of memento. That kind of
retentiveness is common in some offenders. Think of it as trophy hunting, if you will. But the obsession with
preserving
the corpse is a new one on me. It’s as though there’s a
splash of compulsive hoarding in there. A refusal to give things up. A desire to retain control. I don’t want to pretend there’s much science I can offer here, but if you wantmy gut
feel, I’d say we were looking for a guy who needs to hold on to things. Possibly a hoarder. At very high risk of being a repeat offender.’
    One of my colleagues asks whether the Langton killer and the Khalifi killer are likely to be the same person. The psychologist thinks maybe not, though he – and everyone else here –
thinks the killings are certainly linked.
    A discussion,led by Watkins, ensues. But the energy which filled the room at the start, that bristling energy that had stalked the room like some giant beast, is pretty much dead now. Times
like this show Watkins at her best and worst.
    At her worst, because she’s so taut, so devoid of humour or sympathy. She’s like an order-issuing robot – rapid, precise, disapproving, relentless.
    And at her best,for the same reason. An order-issuing robot is just what we need. There are search teams for Cyncoed, search teams for the reservoir, teams for database research and QUEST
analysis, teams for the Khalifi interviews. Bam, bam, bam. She spits out instructions like something ejecting nails.
    I think about Mary Langton. A red-cheeked English girl who chased a hockey ball and found her death.When you have a dead girl’s head in your hands, a head that can’t help but stare
at you with sightless eyes even as it spits its black penny out, you have a connection. Like it or not, you’re joined. While my colleagues scribble their notes, I remember Mary. The weight of
her head. The slipperiness. That feel of bone.
    How did you die, Mary?
I ask her. She doesn’t tell me, but it’s earlydays.
    Eventually, forty minutes after starting, Watkins shuts up. I have a ringing in my ears. Her voice. Those commands. That tone. I think everyone feels the same way.
    I’m