Chapter Forty-Three

Back at the police station, Henry was taken straight to the interrogating room. Sauer pushed him onto a wooden chair. The icy stare never left Henry’s face. Sauer sat behind the desk. He leisurely started filling in forms.

“Full name,” Sauer bellowed.

Henry’s glare was as murderous as ever. “What exactly am I here for?”

“For killing four women and old Jimmy Love, raping them and then eating their faces off.”

The look on Henry’s face did not change. Fool! I ate their faces off them while I fucked them. And my body count now stands at six, you stupid cop, not four.

“Name,” Sauer bellowed louder this time.

“Henry.”

“Henry what,” barked Sauer

“James Harper,” he said coldly.

“Date of birth?”

“1998.”

“On what day in that year?” Sauer stressed.

“Somewhere in September—I don’t know. My biological mother dumped me after my birth.”

Sauer looked at Hobbs. “Shall we take a moment of silence for the poor rejected asshole? Ah shame—nobody loves him. That is why he has to commit these evil crimes—so that he can get the much needed attention he never got as a baby.”

“Fuck you,” Henry said.

“Not today you won’t. Address?”

Silence. Sauer eventually looked up into a cold stare. They looked at each other for a few moments. Sauer leaned back into his chair. “You know, we can do it the hard way, or they easy way.”

Henry continued glaring at Sauer. Sauer got up and walked from behind the desk towards the killer. Henry got up, his eyes never leaving Sauer’s face. The two men looked at each other—the glare in Henry’s face almost inviting Sauer to hit him.

Sauer sat on the edge of the desk, looking up at Henry. “I have the right to hold you here for forty-eight hours without charging you.”

Henry’s lips smirked to one side. “I know,” he said. “I also know that I have a right to a lawyer.”

Sauer got off the desk and walked out of the interrogation room. Hobbs stood behind the one-way glass. He didn’t look up as Sauer entered.

Together, they stared at Henry through the one-way glass. “Perhaps,” Hobbs said eventually, “we should lock him up in the police holding cells with the common criminals for the night. That normally sorts the sissies from the real men.”

Sauer walked out and summoned two uniformed policemen. “Take this piece of crap and throw him in a holding mobile– preferable with other killers and rapists,” Sauer barked.

Henry was unceremoniously dumped into a holding cell. It stank of human excrement, urine and stale sweat. High above him, a 40-watt light bulb tried to emit light through layers of smoke and dust. He looked at the faces surrounding him. Staring back at him was a horde of black faces. He was the only white man there. Some of his fellow prisoners were shocked to see the white man, while others grinned openly in glee. Now is not a time to sleep, Henry told himself. He walked to the nearest wall, and with his back to it, lowered himself unto his haunches. The crowd around him started whispering in their native tongue. He did not understand what they said.

Henry took slow, deep breaths and tried to relax himself. From the whispers and faces he realized that his cellmates were now openly discussing him. Some lit up cigarettes and played a card game on the concrete floor, while others sat in the dark corners staring at him.

When and how he managed to doze off, he could not remember. A chocking fume of smoke was blown into his face. His eyes flew open. In front of him he saw a wrinkled, black face. Black, beady eyes stared into his face and yellow teeth were visible between the thick lips. A scrawny hand brought a hand-rolled cigarette to his mouth. Henry could hear him taking a deep drag. He slowly blew the smoke into Henry’s face. “We are brothers,” said the mouth to him. “I looked into your soul—you are my brother.”

Henry froze. He said nothing. The black eyes kept squinting at him.

“You like to kill and eat your prey,” the lips mouthed the words at him. “But first you show them who is in charge.

Still Henry said nothing. It seemed to him that they were they only two awake. Soft snoring could be heard.

“I also kill for pleasure,” the lips continued. Henry felt cold ripples running down his spine. “I have killed many. For fun. Because I could.” The lips took a deep drag from the cigarette again.

“You must not say anything to them, especially the big one with the dark hair. He is dangerous. He has the soul of a snake. He will strike you when you are not looking. The big one with the hair like daylight has a soft heart.

When they let you go, you must run away immediately. Far away. Go somewhere where they will not find you. These people won’t stop till they find you again. So you must run far. But don’t go back to your mother’s house. You will not be safe there.” The man turned and crawled away from Henry. He watched in amazement as the figure disappeared into the dark wall opposite him. All went silent. Outside he could hear crickets screeching. Did I just dream or did that really happen?

Henry stayed in that holding mobile the whole of the next day. During this time he was given sickly sweet tea in a tin mug and two thick slices of bread with apricot jam. He drank the tea but gave the bread to the men in the cell. During the day he tried to spot his nightly visitor, but could not identify him from the sea of faces in the cell. Still, nobody tried to befriend him. It was as if they were petrified of him.

Dusk started settling into night when the holding cell’s doors opened. Two uniformed policemen cuffed his hands at the front and escorted him without a word back to the interrogation room. The air outside the cell smelled sweet and clean, despite Johannesburg early autumn smog.

Once again, he was told to sit on the wooden chair. This time he was alone in the room, but he sensed the people behind the one-way mirror. He looked down at his cuffed hands.

Hobbs and Sauer stood behind the one-way mirror. Superintendent Hansen stood behind them. He eventually spoke, “Perhaps you boys must make him angry. People always say things they don’t mean when they’re angry.” Hobbs nodded at Sauer and walked into the room.

Henry looked up at Hobbs as he strutted into the room.

“So, tell me,” said Hobbs as he sat on the desk in front of Henry. “What on Earth happened to you as a child to make you want to kill those fat, ugly bitches?”

Henry stared into his face. He knew this trick, bad cop, good cop. This one was clearly trying to play good cop with him, trying to win his confidence. This is the one who has the soul of a snake, the old man in the holding cell told him about. He said nothing.

“I myself had a raw deal as a child,” Hobbs continued. “My father often beat my mom to a pulp. He raped my older sister and beat me whenever the fancy took him.”

Henry giggled in his mind. You know fuck—all…you asshole! Trying to make as if you had a tough time! Ha! Things like that are etched on your face, your being…it is part of your make-up. One cannot stroll into a room and then pretend that those things happened to you just so you can win the confidence from a serial killer. Asshole. We recognize each other by the scars we carry. As for your asshole, I see no scars.

Hobbs elaborated as best he could about his traumatic childhood.

“Those fat bitches you killed…I actually want to shake your hand. They meant nothing to society in any way. They just sucked up oxygen…pretending to be so good and holy. Meanwhile paying rotten Jimmy to work them over with the vibrator…” Hobbs eventually ran out of things to say. Henry did not flinch.

Sauer looked at this from behind the mirror. It’s hopeless. We are dealing with a calculated, psychotic killer. In the olden days, we would have knocked the truth out of him, and if we couldn’t, we would have shot him.

Eventually, Henry spoke, “I would now like to phone a lawyer.” It stopped Hobbs mid-sentence. He glared at the arrogant face in front of him. He wanted to hit the arrogant face in front of him. As he spoke, he noticed a quick smile on the killer’s face.

He got up and walked out without another word.

“Looks like,” Sauer said to superintendent, “we are totally reliant on the forensic evidence.” Superintendent Hansen nodded his head in agreement.