Cannibal Man Read online

Someone actually climbed over the fence and walked around the house calling out ‘hello’ as he walked. It was a co-worker who got worried. He gained entrance through the old lady’s yard. The old lady watched his every move. Needless to say, the only answer he got was a strong whiff of decay. All the windows were closed.

  “Shall I break a window?” the co-worker shouted at the elderly neighbor.

  “Shouldn’t we call the police first?”

  “Do you think they will come?”

  “Who knows…?”

  The co-worker then picked up a stone from the koi pond and threw it at the bedroom window. The stone darted to one side as it hit the window’s frame work. The co-worker picked up the stone and threw it harder. This time he stood closer to the window.

  The window shattered through the leafy suburb. Birds went quiet. The co-worker then forced the bedroom curtain back and was greeted by a swarm of flies and an awful sight.

  He screamed while the elderly neighbor stood paralyzed behind her security gate.

  Someone shouted that they must call the police.

  The police was called and wanted very long and tiresome details. “Somebody was killed,” shouted a caller. The caller was met with a sigh from the woman who answered, as if to say, “Yes and? She is dead already! What do you want us to do about that? Try and resuscitate her rotting corpse back to life?” Like most things in the New South Africa, the police are not known for their sense of urgency.

  First on the scene, as usual, was the eager to please, young rookies. It is always the same. Hours after the crime was reported, they arrived with screaming sirens, ramming their official vehicles onto the pavements with screeching tires to show their interest. They sprinted the short distance to the front door and hammered it three times with their fists, as if the corpse would get up and answer the door for them. Screaming and calling the whole time, they realized no one would answer, so they walked around the house to determine where the smell was coming from. The broken window was a clue. They all gawked through the window, eager to see as much gore as possible. Flies sought the moisture in their mouths. The room was black with these flying nuisances. They were on the walls, the body, and the bed, everywhere.

  In their wisdom, the rookies kicked the door down, destroying a lot of potential forensic evidence in the process. They drew their guns from their holsters and trudged down the hall, all the while swinging them at arm’s length in front like they were trained to do.

  Once in the bedroom, they stared at the stinking, rotting corpse and swore under their breaths. They then rushed out on the front lawn and vomited. All this lasted perhaps five minutes. While standing around waiting for the members of the Serious Crimes Unit to arrive, they told the gathering crowds that the ‘Face Lifter’ claimed his fourth victim.

  The Face Lifter, they said, would attack the most clean living women in the community for reasons no one knew. What kind of a beast would attack such wonderful women? The general trend of the conversations went. The whole neighborhood would sing her praise. “She went to church every Sunday, helped out at cake sales, helped the elderly and played with the young.”

  Chapter Two

  Inspector Timothy Sauer and Captain George Hobbs were having one of their notorious pub lunches when Hobbs’s mobile rang. Sauer was having the food and Hobbs the beer. This was their lunches. One eats and the other drinks. Although they both stand six three in their shoes, they could not differ more. Hobbs was lithe and athletic with dark hair and deep brown eyes, while Sauer was almost as wide as he was tall, with blond hair and deep blue eyes. Not that he was just a lump of fat, as many a criminal have found out. Underneath, he had the hard body of a former rugby player. Years and years of playing the game hardened his body to take virtually any punishment. Together they made the most comical looking team in the whole of the Serious Crimes Unit. They were often called Laurel and Hardy, but never to their faces because both possessed very short-fused tempers. It is also a fact that these two detectives have the highest arrest rate in the department. They were given the most difficult crimes to solve. Often, these crimes were taken away from other detectives who proved useless and given to Sauer and Hobbs. It was also known that these two could not be bribed, which is a sickness in the New South Africa.

  Hobbs listened to the rookie’s hysterical voice and thought, probably his first murder. He got up from his chair while downing the last of his beer.

  Sauer concentrated on his food, eating with his hand and savoring every mouthful. Hobbs slapped him on the back saying, “Come. Another face was lifted.”

  He then threw the keys at Sauer and said, “You drive.”

  Sauer stuffed a few chips into his mouth as he got up. He chewed on the way out and wiped his face with a paper napkin. He threw the napkin at a trash can but missed by far. He did not even notice.

  “I don’t know why you do that,” Hobbs said as they got into their official car.

  “Do what?” Sauer asked.

  “Stuff your face just before going to a scene. You’re just going to vomit it all out.”

  “How was I to know the Face Lifter was going to strike when I am at my hungriest? Besides, the more I stuff in, the bigger puddle I vomit!” Sauer replied with a burp.

  They drove the rest of the way at high speed and in silence, each in their own thoughts. The vehicle’s tires squealed around a corner while other motorists cussed their driving.

  “How long since he last killed?” Hobbs broke the silence.

  “Three months.”

  “Exactly?”

  “Give or take a few days,” Sauer answered. “I suppose it all depends on how old the corpse is.”

  Sauer parked in the street about a block from the scene. There was no nearer space. All the policemen who were either bored or wanted to brighten their day had descended on the crime scene. The street was packed with people and vehicles. Sauer and Hobbs got out, leaving the keys dangling in the ignition and windows wide open. They never bother to lock their official car. It was a standard issue white Toyota Corolla, unmarked to blend into the crime-ridden streets of Johannesburg.

  One of the rookies saw them coming and whispered as he pointed the detectives out to the bystanders: “Here comes Captain Hobbs and Inspector Sauer. They’re the best there is. They will know what to do.”

  They crowd became livelier for Hobbs and Sauer. Both had reputations that preceded them. They always got their man, no matter what. The crowd now knew they were in good hands.

  Hobbs ignored the loud-mouthed rookie and walked past him into the house. He could smell the decaying corpse long before he even stepped through the front door. Sauer smelled it too and made a U-turn out of the house and back onto the lawn. He walked around the house and found a huge tree in the back yard. He leaned against the trunk, unknowingly vomiting out his lunch on the exact place the Face Lifter waited. In all his years as a police man he could never get used to the smell of decay. Fresh corpses did nothing to him. Seeing blood gore and guts never turned his stomach. The smell of rotting flesh, however, made him vomit till it felt as if his liver was climbing out of his mouth.

  Sauer took a deep breath and entered the house. Somebody had sprayed a lot of Doom, an insecticide that kills most insects. The spray masked some of the decaying smell, but not all. Halfway down the hall he took his handkerchief out and covered his nose. Dead flies crunched under his shoes. He gagged as he walked into the bedroom. Hobbs gave him a concerned look, but knew that Sauer’s stomach would be empty by now. His eyes still watered and his gagging nauseated everybody, but at least he wouldn’t spew over the scene like he did when he was a rookie covering his first murder scene.

  * * * *

  The scene was like the three others. A bloated, naked female corpse lay on the bed, her face roughly removed. Hobbs looked at the corpse for a while. This one makes it number four. The pillows underneath her head were caked with dried blood. The wall behind her bed was splattered with blood and hand prints, presumably hers. Th
ey had never been able to find a single fingerprint belonging to the Face Lifter.

  Hobbs walked closer to the bed, careful not to step on any evidence. The stench was killing him. The beer he had for lunch wanted to revolt. He bent over the corpse. The left eye socket was empty and the right eye was mashed. Although the body was badly bloated, he could see that the tip of her nose was gone. He scanned the rest of the bedroom before he carefully walked out again. Sauer followed him still clutching the handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Forensics must first do their thing before he would go back in again.

  They walked through the rest of the house looking for clues and gathering their thoughts. In the kitchen, Hobbs opened the fridge and found nothing unusual. On the table was a neat tray with two bowls. Dry cat pellets were in one and solidified sour milk in the other. Where is the cat now? Is it only one? Spinsters normally only have one. They spoil rotten and feed them only the best. He walked to the living room and saw everything was neat and tidy. Exactly what one would expect from a spinster. Then he noticed the towel on the couch. He looked at it for a long time, trying to make sense. He looked at the photographs on the walls. He heard people behind him and saw that it was the forensic team.

  They all greeted each other in the usual, joking way. The forensic team was all dressed in dark blue overalls. Their hair was in nets and their hands were already gloved in purple. Hobbs walked outside to find a place upwind where he could savor some fresh air. Sauer stood in the front garden taking slow, deep breaths. Hobbs joined him, and together they stood with their hands in their pockets looking at the house.

  A youthful woman dressed in forensic overalls walked over to Hobbs and said, “We’re done with the photographs. But the pathologists are still busy collecting evidence. You can go back inside if you want.” He looked at her as she walked back towards the house. Her dark hair was in a ponytail beneath the hair net. He could swear that she had the darkest brown eyes he had ever seen.

  Hobbs slapped on a pair of gloves and walked back into the house. Sauer waved him off, indicating with his hands that he would go back inside later.

  Several members of the forensic team were still busy in the bedroom collecting hairs and scraping samples of blood from the wall using cotton buds. Everything was first placed into small, plastic bags and then into a cardboard box. Hobbs looked around the room. He avoided looking at the rotting corpse. Even after being a policeman for more than ten years, he still couldn’t stomach scenes like these.

  Pink and white floral, frilly curtains hung over the windows. He pulled one of the curtains open. “Who broke the window?”

  “One of the guys she works with. He is sitting outside somewhere sipping sugar water,” answered a uniformed policeman from the door.

  Despite sprayed Doom, some flies still buzzed about the corpse. “They’re laying eggs…” said one of the forensic members.

  “How do they know there is a dead body in here?”

  “Insects have a very keen sense of smell. About ten times better than ours.”

  The duvet cover had the same printed material as the curtains. Hobbs opened drawers and cabinets. Just as he thought; she was single, just like the other three. Her clothes were neatly stacked and packed. Her shoe rack was tidy and clean. The make-up on her dressing table was neatly stacked in smaller plastic containers. Only a spinster can find the time to do this. Then, in the top drawer of her bedside stand he found it: her vibrator. A pink rubber one with three speed settings and a rotating head. Funny, Hobbs thought to himself, how some girls prefer metal ones. Hobbs flicked the switch on and the rubber penis started dancing in his hand, ready for use. He switched it off and put it in a plastic container. Members of the forensic team look at him in amusement. One or two chuckled and another made the comment, “Not your color is it mate?”

  He handed the vibrator to one of the members of the forensic team. “Bag and tag. We never know what we will find.” He leaned over the bed and stared at the corpse closely.

  The teeth grinned at him in stark horror. He took his penlight and shone it into the slightly open jaws. He was no expert, but he could swear the tongue was missing. Her teeth had a few fillings, but otherwise beautifully cared for. Her right eye was half open and he could see that the insects had gotten to it. The left eye was missing and a stump left where the nose should have been. Her legs were spread wide open. The sheets and pillows were caked with dried blood. Still, there were flies everywhere.

  Hobbs watched as the young forensic woman tried to take samples from underneath the corpse’s nails. “Her nails have been cut off,” she said to one of her colleagues. Better we bag her hands completely. We might be lucky with some genetic material.” She shined a small, blue light on and around the corpse, picked up things with tweezers and swabbed the corpse with ear buds. Their work fascinated Hobbs to no end.

  It took the team over an hour to collect what they had to. When they were finished Hobbs gave instructions for the body to be taken to the government mortuary for an autopsy. He walked out of the house and found Sauer lingering on the lawn, chatting to a pretty girl.

  “Not coming in to savor the unique aroma of a week-old corpse?” Hobbs asked.

  “No, not again. My stomach has just about settled back into hungry mode.”

  Together, they walked back to their vehicle, climbed in and waited for the corpse to be removed. Sauer was the first to speak, “Was she naked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was her tongue bitten off?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “And her left eye….”

  “Missing. The right one mashed. I think. That is what it looked like to me.”

  “The face…”

  “Most of the cheekbones were bare. The fucker probably cut it off and took it home for a stir-fry.”

  “Like Hannibal.” Sauer thought of the impact violent movies had on the psyche of the sick. “A vibrator?”

  “Yes. A pink, rubbery one.”

  “Raped?”

  “Don’t know, the corpse is fairly bloated. It seemed to be in the early stages of decomposition. With the heat we have been having lately, the corpse could be only a couple of days old. Let’s wait for the autopsy report.”

  They sat in silence watching as the corpse, now in a dark blue body bag, was removed from the house. Two members of the police carried it out on a stretcher. As the corpse was loaded into the back of a police hearse, the gathering crowd became silent. Some onlookers shed tears. Another few shook their heads. Many had hands over mouths and noses as the rotting stench whiffed into the air.

  Hobbs got out of the car and told the keen rookie to open all the windows of the house and to guard the premises. He was not to allow anybody in or near the house. He got back in the car and lit a cigarette. Hobbs and Sauer watched the crowd slowly dispersing.

  “What’s her name?” Hobbs asked Sauer.

  “Charmaine Zeller. Single, early thirties, quiet living, worked as a librarian at the local university. Never threw any wild parties, never complained to the neighbors about the dogs barking. Just your average quiet spinster living next door…with a pink vibrator.”

  Hobbs smoked in silence. Sauer welcomed the smell. It smelled a hell of a lot better than a decomposing corpse.

  “Come,” said Hobbs after a while, “I’m sure most of the smell is out by now.”

  Sauer heaved his big body out of the car. He walked around the car to the trunk and opened it. From a small overnight bag he retrieved a swimmer’s nose clip. He tightly squeezed it over his huge nose and followed the sniggering Hobbs into the house.

  “You know those things don’t work, do you?” Hobbs asked. Sauer ignored him and walked down the hall behind Hobbs.

  Despite breathing through his mouth, Sauer could still taste the decay. His stomach turned but he managed to keep his composure.

  At first, he deliberately avoided the bedroom. He walked straight to the kitchen. “I’ve been there,” screamed Hobbs from elsewhere in the
house. ‘There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” Sauer walked to the living room, still avoiding the bedroom. The towel on the couch immediately drew his attention. Instinctively he knew he was onto something. He touched it. It was bone dry. “Hobbs,” he yelled down the hallway, not wanting to go near the bedroom.

  Hobbs walked towards him with long strides. “What?”

  “Do you remember if towels were lying around at the other scenes?”

  Hobbs looked intensely at Sauer for a moment. Having been his partner for more than ten years, he knew that he could trust Sauer’s instinct.

  “Can’t remember,” Hobbs answered.

  “It just does not make sense,” Sauer continued. “Her entire apartment is immaculate. Even the food in her deep freeze is dated and weighed.”

  Sauer pulled his mobile phone from his pant pocket. He spoke briefly. “Tell the forensic team that they forgot something.”

  “Have you checked in the bathroom?” Sauer continued. Hobbs shook his head.

  Chapter Three

  The bathroom was as tidy as the rest of the house. It was tiled entirely in white from floor to ceiling. Blue, frilly curtains adorned the long, frosted windows. The white bath was pristine. The silver faucet shone with brightness like it had never been used. The shower was next to the bath. The glass doors had several water stains on it. Dried soap suds clung to the faucet. The shampoo bottle’s lid was on the shower floor.

  Something stirred Sauer’s instinct intellect. Why would she clean the bath but not the shower? Sauer lifted the toilet seat and peered inside.

  “No floaters here,” he spoke to himself out loud. The toilet seat was blue with matching blue toilet mat. He folded his hands and looked up at the curtain rails and light fittings. He scanned the shining tiles for something.

  A blue towel hung over the towel rail. The matching one was lying dried up in the living room. Bingo. Maybe.

  A small billow of wind blew the curtain in a ball. Sauer saw that the window stood slightly ajar. He walked over to it and with his hand carefully moved the curtain out of the way. He bumped the burglar bar with his right index finger. The burglar bar hit the floor with a loud clattering. Hobbs stiffened from the noise. So that’s how he gained entry. Hobbs looked at Sauer’s huge smile. Bingo!