"Nature or nurture?" Tony began the class. "The great debate. So which is it? Are we genetically destined to become the people we are, or is our growth as human beings shaped by the stimuli around us?" He glanced around the room until a hand rose. "Simon?"
"Yeah. Uh, I think it's definitely the influences around us. Look at the current life span of our species. We're living forty, fifty years longer than our ancestors. We have made adjustments in our society, in our way of living, to live better longer lives. That's not genetics that's progress. Looking at the negatives, the precedents are there that prove those who are abused as children are more inclined to grow up to be abusers themselves, particularly if they continue living in a social environment that doesn't allow them to rise above their means. Boys who grow up in a house where their mothers are beaten often grow up to be wife-beaters themselves. We see the influence of a cause and effect determining people's lives every day. Fear of my parents' wrath if I don't pass this course determines my efforts here."
The students laughed and Tony smiled. "So noted, Simon."
"Thank you, sir."
"Yes, Stephen?"
A dark haired student in the back spoke up. "I have to disagree. You can't deny the influence of genetics. Look at alcoholism, obesity, depression. Insurance companies are now doing genetic backgrounds before allowing people to sign policies. If my parents aren't musically inclined, I'm never going to be a world class pianist."
"Perhaps not, Tony agreed, "but that doesn't mean you can't play the piano. And how do you explain child prodigies?"
Stephen shrugged. "Flukes. Anomalies. Every rule has the exception."
Tony agreed again. "Of course. For instance, case studies have shown that no amount of treatment can rehabilitate a pedophile. That being said, I'd like to think if we're psychologically damaged in some way, that we can all be helped."
"So you lean towards the nurture end of the debate, Dr. Hill?" another student asked.
"To a large degree, yes."
"Be honest, Dr. Hill. Is your stance on this just an attempt to justify your profession as a psychologist?" All eyes went to Stephen and a low murmur of surprise went through the room.
Tony held up a hand to quiet them. "No, that's a very good question." He sat on the edge of his desk before continuing, "I suppose my profession does lend itself to any decision I make on this subject. Though there, in that very admission is further support of my stance- my profession, not my genetics influenced my decision." He smiled at the irony as did several others. "But I do think I can teach an old dog new tricks."
"But left to its own devices, it's still a dog. It will do what it's going to do," the student argued. "There have been cases of twins separated at birth, adopted by two separate families of differing backgrounds, only to find out years later that they have the same taste in women, wear their hair the same way, use the same toothpaste. You're going to be whoever you're going to be."
"So I was destined to be a psychologist?"
"Yeah."
"And you were destined to get a C in this course?"
"If that's what I'm supposed to get."
"And what is poor Simon's fate?"
Stephen looked over to his peer. "I don't know, but if Simon doesn't pass this course, his parents have no one to blame but themselves."
Once again, the room broke out into laughter.
"Can you write that on my final report, Dr. Hill?" Simon asked.
"I'll try to remember," he answered. Turning back to Stephen, Tony asked, "So what is your view on the prison system?"
"What do you mean?"
"Should we just let all the criminals free, or adopt the death penalty and get rid of them all?"
"Neither," he said. "I think taking away someone's freedom is sufficient punishment."
"Well, let's forget for a moment that the basis of prison is rehabilitation, not permanent incarceration. You've just told me that people are going to be whoever they're going to be. Once a murderer, always a murderer. Once a rapist, always a rapist. If that's the case, is there any point in incarcerating them?"
A girl in the front spoke up. "Protects the public."
"But if Stephen's theory is true, aren't we just delaying the inevitable? Won't he just kill again once he's out? And why doesn't he kill in prison? On the whole, prison homicide is quite uncommon."
"Controlled environment," Simon answered. "Suppressed stimuli."
"Very good. You'll pass this course yet. Stephen, have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?"
He smirked. "Maybe."
"Safe to say more than one?"
"Yeah."
"Well then, we need to permanently ban you from ever driving a vehicle again. You're predisposed to be a speed demon!"
He shook his head. "I know what you're getting at, but that's different."
"Oh? How so?"
"It's…" he paused. Several moments passed, yet Tony waited. "It just is."
"Be honest, Stephen. Is your waffling stance on this just an attempt to justify your profession as a vehicular law breaker?"
The class erupted into hoots and hollers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand go up. Pointing in the student's direction, Tony asked, "Yes, Owen?"
"I think it's a combination of both of those influences," he stated. "I think we are given a genetic map to direct us. And I think the people and events that come into our lives influence who we are. But ultimately, I don't think we can or should use either as an excuse for the people we've become. We're given tools at birth and throughout our lives to use or discard as we see fit. At the end of the day, we have no one to blame but ourselves. Or at least, we shouldn't."
The class became silent and Tony gave the young man an appreciative nod. "Well done, Owen. Well done. Are you passing this class?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
"Oh, no worries," he grinned. "My parents are psychologists. I'm destined to pass."
Tony groaned.
--
On his way home from work, he stopped at the newsagents and could barely conceal his delight as paid for the newspaper.
MORNING
HORROR!
Sutherland wakes up to murder, dismemberment
He hurried back to his car and separated himself from the outside world. Surrounded by text was a lone picture of the crime scene. It was of the wall that bore his scrawled "E-26, G-24". He slowly trailed his fingertips across the slightly raised ink and closed his eyes as he recalled the moment. Despite the latex gloves, the warmth of her blood had seeped into his bones and made him giddy. He wasn't thrilled about dismembering the body, but it was the only way he could get her into that damn storage freezer she had. He remembered being angry; very angry that the evening hadn't gone the way he had plotted it out in his mind. Poor planning on the part of other people had nearly foiled his own careful preparation. But then he remembered he would have to get a reasonable amount of blood out of her anyway, in order to leave his message, so there was a silver lining to everything.
A sharp rap on his window startled him out of his reverie. He looked to his right and saw a scowling man gesturing for him to roll down his window.
"Oi! You gonna be here all night, mate, or are you gonna let me have your spot already?"
He was about to get out of the car and set the him straight, but decided against it. Drawing attention to himself was the last think he needed right now. Instead, he rolled up the window, flipped the man the bird, and peeled out of the space.
No, he would not be there all night. He had other things to do.
--
"Mondays," Carol groaned.
Despite the dressing-down she had given Kevin last week, she had to admit he was right; things were bloody slow. One of the perks that came with a position such as Detective Chief Inspector was the ability to delegate cases to those on the totem pole beneath her. In its best form, it allowed her to lighten her workload by spreading it out amongst the eager-to-advance cops under her authority. At its worst… well, were days like this- where her officers were efficiently handling the workload and she was left with the administrative work she loathed. She would have gone out into the general office area to see if there was something she could do to help, but she had been out there three times already this morning. Her first appearance had been met with a welcome; the second with mild annoyance; the third with veiled irritation.
Carol sighed. 'I wonder what Tony's doing for lunch?' She was just reaching for the phone when Kevin knocked on the door and poked his head around the corner.
"Got a minute, guv?"
She put the receiver down and waved him in. "What's up, Kev?"
Standing in front of her desk, he began, "For starters, that flower shop arson? Looks like an insurance fraud. Arson investigators found the primary. Traces of petrol and a cigarette wedged into the flap of a book of matches. You light the cigarette, then when it burns down, it lights the matches…"
"Yes, Kevin," she interrupted, "I'm aware of that trick."
"Right. Sorry. Anyway, there was some financial difficulty with the owner of the shop, and the insurance was quite high, so…"
"Good job, Kevin."
He smiled. "Actually, you should thank Don. Pardon the expression, but I think you lit a fire under him last week."
"Good," Carol replied, not without humour. More serious now, she added, "And what about you, Kevin?"
"Everton School was broken into on the weekend. I'm working with the officers who were there and seeing if there's a connection with our vandals."
"Great. Keep at it." She expected Kevin to leave, but he didn't move. "Anything else?"
He held up a piece of paper. "This came in from Sutherland Saturday morning."
She leaned forward and took it from him. The office was quiet as she scanned the sheet.
"Another one?" she whispered.
"Looks like it," Kevin agreed. "Odd, though. No dismemberment. Throat was cut instead."
"Maybe he was interrupted this time?"
He shook his head. "Still had time to leave his code."
"Yeah. Different this time, though, isn't it? 'E-26, G-25', not 24 like last time."
"What do you think it means?"
Carol pressed her lips together and shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, "and for now, it's not up to us to find out what it means, Kev."
"I know. You said to keep you up to date, so that's what I'm doing."
"Okay," she smiled, "consider me up to date."
"There's more. Word has it he left a little bit of a… mess at the first scene."
"Semen?"
"Yeah."
"The vic…"
"No," Kevin said before Carol could go down that road. "Outside. A little…" he mimicked a masturbation gesture, "before he went in."
"Thank you for that lovely image, Kev."
He laughed. "Sorry. Anyway, they're pressing for a quick DNA result early this week. We'll see what happens after that."
"Okay. Anything else?"
"That's it."
"Right. Well, in the meantime, let's keep on with our own problems, as mundane as they may seem. If I ever have to speak to DCI Samuels again, I want to make sure it's worth the effort."
"Understood, guv. And maybe, in the meantime, you could ask Dr. Hill what he thinks of it."
"Kevin…" Carol warned in a soft growl.
"I'll have that Everton case wrapped up by the end of the day."
"You'd better. And close the door behind you."
When he'd gone, Carol reached for the phone.
--
"Hello my friend, we meet again," Tony said as he looked at the blank white board in the conference room of the police station.
"What's your schedule like this afternoon? Are you busy?" Carol had asked him when she called twenty minutes earlier.
"Only trying to postulate which one of my students is the potential serial killer," he replied. "Besides, why are you asking me? I thought you were a detective?"
Her laughter ran down the line. "I'll ignore your last comment, and when you're done with the first, what do you think of coming down to the station and tossing some theories about regarding a serial killer who's already developed? There's been a second killing in Sutherland."
"I'll be down as soon as I can," he said.
Now he stood in front of the blank board, its surface waiting to be filled with scribbles and hidden clues. He felt a marker being placed in his hand, and he turned to see Carol standing beside him.
"Ready to get to work?" she asked.
He sighed dramatically. "I haven't even had time to take off my jacket and you're putting me to work."
Carol stepped behind him and removed his coat. She draped it over a nearby chair then turned back to Tony. He wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily.
"No coffee?"
Barely concealing a smirk, she reached for the cup on the desk beside him. Holding up the steaming mug, she raised an eyebrow. "Anything else, my liege?"
He frowned, unable to find fault in her efficiency. "I suppose not." He took the cup from her and hazarded a taste. "So what is it… mmmm, this is very good, Carol… what is it you want me to do?"
"Well, you know about the first murder. This morning we got word that there had been another murder over the weekend. Brunette, ground floor entry into the bedroom. Shoved her into a freezer, but for whatever reason, no dismemberment. Another slight change was the message he left on the wall. In the victim's blood, same as the first."
As Carol spoke of the murder, several of her officers came into the room and sat in various spots around the office.
"I suppose I could take some solace in knowing you have nothing better to do with your time," Tony commented as they filed in. Back to Carol, he asked, "What was the message this time?"
" 'E-26, G-25'," she responded.
Tony walked up to the white board and uncapped his marker. He quickly divided the board into four vertical columns. At the top of each, he titled them, #1, #2, #3, #4.
"There've only been two murders," Don corrected.
Without turning around, Tony said, "For now. There will be more if we don't catch him."
Under #1, he made a list of what they knew, and did the same under #2. Stepping back, he pointed to the board.
"What's different?"
"Dismemberment is missing from the second murder," Paula offered.
Tony looked at the young policewoman and nodded. "Correct. Which means dismemberment is not a signature of these crimes. It's not the axis of these murders. And yet…" he looked at the board again, "the freezer seems important. He went to the trouble of dismembering the first victim in order for her to fit the freezer, therefore also fitting his signature." He circled 'freezer' several times.
"What about his message?" Carol asked.
"Although it's also different from the first murder, it isn't absent. Whatever this message means to him is also very important."
"But what does it mean?"
"Taking it from the first murder, I would have said it was a word puzzle or some kind of map reference. However, based on the fact that it's different in the second murder –and notice only one number is different –I would say it's some sort of score-card. E-26, G-25. I don't think the first murder was the first at all. This is an advancement from the first number; from 24 to 25. G, whoever that is, has "scored" again; killed again."
A hush went around the room as they all slowly drew the same conclusion.
"But… but if what you're saying is true, if this is some sort of killing score-card, that would mean there are twenty three other murders we don't know about. Not to mention the twenty six done by this E person," Carol said aloud.
"If that's what it's meant to represent, then yes," Tony replied.
"Fifty one murders," Kevin whispered, dumbfounded.
Paula spoke for everyone, "Christ."
"That can't be right," Kevin protested. "I think we'd know about fifty one unsolved murders."
"Twenty three," Tony corrected, repeating Carol's earlier count. "You already know about twenty six; Jeff Gibbons is serving his time for them. Look at the signature similarities- E is obviously Jeff Gibbons. This killer in Sutherland has already committed two you know of, so you have G-25 minus two. Twenty-three."
"Still, that's twenty three murders," Paula said, stunned.
Tony held out his hands as if to say, 'I'm just the messenger.'
"And there's absolutely no way Jeff Gibbons could have done them?" Kevin pressed.
"The other twenty three? Who knows? Until you find out where and when those murders took place, it's impossible to determine. If you want to know if Gibbons committed the last two murders, then my answer is no." He looked around the room at the expectant faces. "Look, there are certain characteristics in those twenty six murders that are consistent throughout; he smothered them with his hand and he put them in a bathtub full of ice."
"And they were brunette," Don added.
Tony shook his head. "That was his M.O, not his signature. Gibbons himself admitted the only reason his victims were all brunettes was because the first three coincidentally were dark-haired. It was only when he read the media stories that he latched on to the brunette angle. Had the press not given that bit of information so much attention, Gibbons would have carried on, regardless of hair colour. No, he smothered them with his hand because he liked the power it gave him: to look into the eyes of his victims as they died. And the ice was his attempt to confuse the police and pathologist regarding time of death. Hand and ice in the bath; that was his signature and he didn't deviate from it once in those twenty-six murders. Not once." He pointed back to the board. "These last two murders are entirely different in signature. Yes, he still smothered them with his hand, but he put them in a freezer. He dismembered one victim in order to stay in line with the signature."
"It's not a big step from ice to freezer, though," Paula remarked. "I mean, it's not like we're comparing someone who covers them in ice and someone who encases them in cement and throws them in the Thames."
"But we might as well be, Paula. When we're talking about signatures, any deviation, no matter how inconsequential it may seem to us, is impossible to ignore. It would be like seeing a vegetarian at a carvery. The signature identifies the killer. One killer isn't going to have two signatures."
"So it's definitely not Jeff Gibbons?" Carol posed, though she knew his answer.
"Nope. Not a chance. And that's overlooking the impossibility of him being in two places at once. Not your man. I'd stake my reputation on it. Whatever that's worth."
Carol smiled and the rest of the room couldn't help but laugh.
"Okay," Kevin conceded. "Where do we go from here?"
Tony shrugged. "That's your job, not mine."
"Kev, any word on the DNA?" Carol asked.
"Not yet. Tomorrow if we're lucky, I should think."
Carol addressed the group. "Right. Kevin, Don, Liam. Do some research, make some inquiries. See if there have been any unsolved murders in the last five years. Check missing persons while you're at it. He may have started that route before refining his technique. How's your French, Liam?"
"Comme ci, comme ça," the junior officer said.
"Bien," Carol answered. "I think we should stretch our inquiries outside of Britain. Maybe there's a reason we're unaware of this killer's priors."
Don nodded. "He might not have started here."
"Exactly. Paula, just to dot our i's and cross our t's, phone Bradfield Prison. Make sure Jeff Gibbons was were he was supposed to be on the nights of the murders."
"Should we contact DCI Samuels?" Kevin asked.
"What for?" Carol replied in return. "Right now, for all we know, this has nothing to do with the murders in Sutherland. I'm not getting into a pissing contest with him over this, and until we're sure, there's no sense muddying the waters any more than necessary. And if this doesn't end up being some kind of killing scorecard, it might have absolutely nothing to do with anything." She gave an apologetic look towards Tony.
His mouth curved into a wry smile of understanding. "I'd be more than happy to be wrong about this, believe me."
"In the meantime," she carried on, "we still have our regular duties to perform. Whatever it is you're working on, though it may not be nearly as interesting, also needs to get done. How's the Everton case, Kevin?"
"We were tipped off about a gang of boys from the east end. Uniform are trying to round them up, and the parents. Once that's sorted, we've got some of the neighbours lined up to come in and see if they can identify any of the boys."
"Good job. Right then, that's it. If anyone comes across anything that raises a red flag, come and see me."
As the group filed out, Tony reached for his jacket. She waited until he had shrugged it on before placing a hand on his arm.
"You free later?"
"Of course."
"How do you feel about dropping by my place? Say around six?"
He pretended to give it some thought before replying, "Yeah."
She slapped his shoulder. "Go on. I'll see you later."
--
He felt something warm and soft tickle across his cheek. In his dreamy haze, he tried to brush it away, and when it didn't return, he slipped back under the welcoming blanket of sleep. Peace was almost reached when a rough wet sensation scraped across his chin. Tony's eyes snapped open and he found himself looking into a pair of attentive green eyes.
"Nelson," Tony groaned and tried to roll over in an attempt to get the cat off his chest, but Nelson would have none of it. The feline held fast with his claws and licked Tony's chin again.
"All right, all right," he surrendered, "I'm awake." It was then that he realized he was awake in someone else's house. Nelson. Carol. He quickly looked to either side discovered he was on the couch. That was one item of panic crossed off the list. At some point, Carol had obviously covered him up, because he was quite content under a soft blanket. Another small wave of panic washed over Tony, and he slowly lifted the edge of the blanket to check underneath.
"You're not naked, if that's what you're worried about."
"Jesus!" Tony exclaimed, startled by Carol's appearance in the doorway.
"Good morning to you, too," she smirked as she set a cup on the table beside him and sat in an opposite chair with her own mug. She watched Tony's attempt to surreptitiously gather clues from his environment, in order to piece together what had happened.
"It was about nine o'clock and I was talking to my brother on the phone," she said, offering him some pieces. "We talked longer than I had planned and when I came back into the room, you were slouched in the most uncomfortable position I've ever seen, sleeping."
Tony closed his eyes, remembering it now. "Ah, yes."
"I took off your tie, but I thought I'd better… the rest… anyway," she stumbled.
"How is Michael?"
Thankful to be pursuing another topic, Carol replied, "He's good. I think we'll be hearing wedding bells soon."
"Lucy?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Good for them," he said honestly. He sat up and held on to Nelson so he wouldn't fall on to the floor. "Did you send this hairy alarm clock to wake me?" His annoyance was belied by his affectionate petting.
Carol laughed. "No. He does whatever he likes. Slept at your feet all night, by the way. Would not come to bed with me. Traitor."
As if knowing that last comment was directed at him, Nelson jumped off Tony's lap and padded over to Carol.
"Oh, too late now, mister," she chastised, but the cat was unfazed. He jumped onto her lap, stretched luxuriously, then curled up.
Stretching out his legs in a less-than-feline-like manner, Tony reached for his coffee and asked, "What were we talking about before I so rudely nodded off?"
Carol tilted her head. "Nature versus nurture, I believe."
"My topics are so boring they even put me to sleep. No wonder I don't get invited over very often."
"Really?" she asked. Although she recognized his humour when she heard it, she had to admit she had never really given much thought towards how many times he had been over. A quick tally in her head gave credence to his comment. "Would you like me to invite you over more?" She recognized the suggestiveness of her question, but instead of being embarrassed, she smirked, "Nelson obviously adores you."
Tony's smile was full of warmth, responding not only to her humour, but her offer as well. He scowled at the cat curled up happily on Carol's lap. "I'm nothing more than another warm body for that cat to cozy up to."
Carol snorted. "Well, you're the only other warm body that steps through that door." Seeing Tony's eyebrows flashed upwards in query and surprise she shifted the subject. "Are you hungry?"
He looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"
She turned her wrist over. "Ten past eight."
He shook his head and stood up. As the blanket fell, he instinctively looked down. Carol burst into laughter. "What, you didn't believe me?"
"Stop laughing. You're going to wake up poor Nelson."
"Are you hungry?" she repeated.
"No," he answered. Rubbing his hands over his face, he said, "I should get home. I need to change my clothes and pick up some books for the class today."
"Okay." She got up slowly, doing everything she could to not wake up the cat. Gently placing him on the seat, she turned to see Tony neatly folding up the blanket and draping it across the arm of the couch. "Jacket's near the door," she offered when she realized why he was looking around the room.
"Oh, right."
As she followed him to the door, she practiced a few lines in her head. She didn't know what was more awkward –the morning after, or the morning after nothing had happened. She was saved any discomfort when she saw his smile.
"Thanks for putting me up," he said.
"Don't you mean putting up with you?" she joked.
"That, too," he went along.
"Listen, you can come over whenever you want, you know." She waited for him to nod his understanding before she changed tracks again. "If that DNA test comes back today, I'll call you."
He unlocked the door and turned the handle. "Call me anyway," he asked.
--