confess. He said he’d been planning the murders for a long time. He found the addresses of potential victims in the Public Records Bureau, concentrating on those who lived near his home base. He’d scout them out and even get to know some of them personally in advance of the murders.
On completing the twelve-month cycle, he’d intended to progress to some other interesting patterns, such as days of the week (he’d already found women named Tuesday and Wednesday); trees (Acacia, Olive, Laurel); colours (Amber, Blanche); flowers (Violet, Rose, Anthia, Tulip); and celestial objects (Celia, Stella). As part of his preliminary research, he’d found a “Name Your Baby” book quite invaluable.
He regretted, he said, the fact that he’d killed only women. But as his interrogators could see, he himself was quite a small man, so men would have been too difficult. He had considered children as an option; but he happened to be very fond of children and didn’t think he would have the stomach for it.
As for his use of the garotte, he believed it was much more intimate than a weapon such as a knife or a gun. The last thing he wanted was for his victims to feel their deaths were impersonal.
But why had he killed the women at all? That was what the police investigators, preoccupied with motive, wanted to know. What was it that drove Simmonds to kill anyone in the first place?
The murderer seemed genuinely surprised at the question. The killings were only meant to be a game, he said, an entertainment to cause a little bit of a distraction for the general public. Nothing grabbed people’s attention like a mysterious murder or two. Nothing would convince him that they hadn’t enjoyed the whole thing and weren’t, in fact, grateful to him for putting on a good show.
The police had to be satisfied with that. When Simmonds eventually went on trial, his lawyer tried to persuade him to plead not guilty on the grounds of insanity. Simmonds was offended at the very idea. He himself took the stand and appealed to the jury’s sense of fun. That same day, after less than ten minutes’ deliberation, they found him guilty of multiple murders in the first degree.
– 8 –
“WHAT DID YOUR VISITOR HAVE TO SAY about Simmonds?” Rachel asked her father. She sipped her coffee, wanting to hear more about Rowland Vanderlinden, without seeming too curious.
The Judge sighed. “Nothing that should have surprised me,” he said. “These intellectuals always seem to find criminals more valuable than ordinary citizens. He went on about what he calls ‘a ritualistic aspect’ to the murders. He thinks they might come from some deep-rooted impulse Simmonds himself isn’t aware of. He said it would be worthwhile keeping such a creature alive—a lot might be learned from talking to him further.”
“How odd,” said Rachel.
Her father smiled. He was wearing a red-and-white-striped shirt with a red tie. Rachel thought he looked like a peacock with a skull for a head.
“I told him we could talk to Simmonds forever and it would be useless. How can you get rational answers out of a madman? He made a note of that. He made notes on everything.”
“Did he himself have an answer?” Rachel said.
“If you can call it an answer,” said the Judge. “He said he was opposed to capital punishment, but that if society insists on executing Simmonds, it certainly shouldn’t be by hanging.”
“Really?” said Rachel.
“Not by hanging, or strangulations or poisonings, or any kind of bloodless method.” Her father smiled at the memory. “He said all the great civilizations of the past believed that if a man is to be executed, his blood must flow, or else his spirit won’t escape. Then all kinds of social problems would be the result.” He shook his head, smiling at her. “Can you imagine hearing such superstitious nonsense from an educated man? Of course, Vanderlinden denies he really believes it literally—just that we ought not to
On completing the twelve-month cycle, he’d intended to progress to some other interesting patterns, such as days of the week (he’d already found women named Tuesday and Wednesday); trees (Acacia, Olive, Laurel); colours (Amber, Blanche); flowers (Violet, Rose, Anthia, Tulip); and celestial objects (Celia, Stella). As part of his preliminary research, he’d found a “Name Your Baby” book quite invaluable.
He regretted, he said, the fact that he’d killed only women. But as his interrogators could see, he himself was quite a small man, so men would have been too difficult. He had considered children as an option; but he happened to be very fond of children and didn’t think he would have the stomach for it.
As for his use of the garotte, he believed it was much more intimate than a weapon such as a knife or a gun. The last thing he wanted was for his victims to feel their deaths were impersonal.
But why had he killed the women at all? That was what the police investigators, preoccupied with motive, wanted to know. What was it that drove Simmonds to kill anyone in the first place?
The murderer seemed genuinely surprised at the question. The killings were only meant to be a game, he said, an entertainment to cause a little bit of a distraction for the general public. Nothing grabbed people’s attention like a mysterious murder or two. Nothing would convince him that they hadn’t enjoyed the whole thing and weren’t, in fact, grateful to him for putting on a good show.
The police had to be satisfied with that. When Simmonds eventually went on trial, his lawyer tried to persuade him to plead not guilty on the grounds of insanity. Simmonds was offended at the very idea. He himself took the stand and appealed to the jury’s sense of fun. That same day, after less than ten minutes’ deliberation, they found him guilty of multiple murders in the first degree.
– 8 –
“WHAT DID YOUR VISITOR HAVE TO SAY about Simmonds?” Rachel asked her father. She sipped her coffee, wanting to hear more about Rowland Vanderlinden, without seeming too curious.
The Judge sighed. “Nothing that should have surprised me,” he said. “These intellectuals always seem to find criminals more valuable than ordinary citizens. He went on about what he calls ‘a ritualistic aspect’ to the murders. He thinks they might come from some deep-rooted impulse Simmonds himself isn’t aware of. He said it would be worthwhile keeping such a creature alive—a lot might be learned from talking to him further.”
“How odd,” said Rachel.
Her father smiled. He was wearing a red-and-white-striped shirt with a red tie. Rachel thought he looked like a peacock with a skull for a head.
“I told him we could talk to Simmonds forever and it would be useless. How can you get rational answers out of a madman? He made a note of that. He made notes on everything.”
“Did he himself have an answer?” Rachel said.
“If you can call it an answer,” said the Judge. “He said he was opposed to capital punishment, but that if society insists on executing Simmonds, it certainly shouldn’t be by hanging.”
“Really?” said Rachel.
“Not by hanging, or strangulations or poisonings, or any kind of bloodless method.” Her father smiled at the memory. “He said all the great civilizations of the past believed that if a man is to be executed, his blood must flow, or else his spirit won’t escape. Then all kinds of social problems would be the result.” He shook his head, smiling at her. “Can you imagine hearing such superstitious nonsense from an educated man? Of course, Vanderlinden denies he really believes it literally—just that we ought not to
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