The Final Alibi

dead cop swinging from a rope, stealing the Kennedy’s car in a panic. We conducted our investigation and although we couldn’t find a single piece of evidence on him, we knew the lack of alibies for any of the murders would not be enough to convict him on. Most of the other evidence was circumstantial, such as his perfect teeth, a witness spotting him leaving one of the murder locations around the time of one, carrying a coil of rope. He also had blood on his shirt sleeve when we arrested him that was Warren’s but he claimed to have touched the officer whilst checking on him, getting it on his sleeve in the process. What ultimately convicted him though, was Tami’s eyewitness evidence, the only person to have ever survived the devil.

11.

He fronted court for the final time in April 1935. The death penalty was requested and although almost granted, the judge determined that there wasn’t a 100% airtight case against Lightman. He said that the overwhelming amount of circumstantial evidence, combined with Tami’s testimony satisfied him of Lightman’s guilt, but only as far as a life sentence, not one of death. Lightman screamed his innocence when he was sentenced just like they all did, then was led from the courtroom in chains and taken straight up to Crab Apple Hill, which sat less than 10 minutes’ drive from the courtroom. He could have been taken to Pentridge Prison in Melbourne but Crab Apple Hill was already home to the state’s worst killers and Harry had overtaken them all. On Monday, April 22^nd, 1935, Harry Lightman began the first day of his sentence at Crab Apple Hill Prison.

Warren Smythe was buried next to his mother and father in Melbourne Cemetery with very little fanfare and almost no recognition from Victoria Police. A number of officers from Cider Hill and Daylesford were granted leave for the day, including me, and we had hired a bus to take us there. In the days before and also after the funeral, I approached Chief Rademeyer on several occasions to request Officer Smythe be nominated for the Victoria Police Star, which I had heard was the appropriate medal for an officer killed the way he was. And each time, I was ignored. A couple of other officers also put my name forward but I didn’t want anything. I had performed my duties the way I had been trained and for what I was being paid for. Warren, however, gave his life. He deserved it. To me, it felt as if the hierarchy weren’t interested in medals or awards, as if they wanted the whole matter finished with so they could go back to the way things were before. Before a man went on a killing spree, killing 14 innocent victims, and a police force that had failed to protect them.

Whatever their reasons, I didn’t care. The officers of the two police stations involved, had done a remarkable job in ending the carnage. Had gone above and beyond to ensure the public could walk the streets again without fear. Just as they always had. To hell with the Rademeyers in this world.

I was never 100% sure that he was Lucifer, also known as the Daylesford Devil. I was never absolutely positive because I didn’t actually see him do anything. All I ever remembered were those frightened eyes that passed me in the car on that fateful night. I had put my faith in the system and allowed it to decide for me. The nightmares that followed, the ones that would play out in my mind where Lucifer would continue his crime spree, the ones where I would wake in a cold sweat, sure I had made a mistake, continued for a long time. As the years passed, and the memories withdrew into the darkest recesses of my mind, the nightmares gradually disappeared. Once they had completely vanished from my mind, the nightmares never returned, never causing me to doubt the final result. Not until June 1^st, 1954.

Chapter 2: The Return of the Devil

1.

“Dr. Lawson?” the young Constable asked as I opened the door. She was wearing her police uniform, her hat held in one hand. The dark hair was tied back in a bun revealing a face far too young for the horror she would see in the coming weeks. She held a hand out for me to shake.

“Yes?” I asked, hesitating a little.

“I’m Stephanie Connor. We spoke on the phone yesterday?” I shook her hand, remembering the brief conversation we had held the previous day and invited her in.

“I’m sorry, Constable. I haven’t been a police officer in many years. There was a reason why I left the force.” I could see the frown on her face as I repeated what I had told her the previous day.

“I think you may change your mind after you see what I’ve brought with me,” she said, following me down the hallway.

“I won’t change my mind; I have no interest in catching criminals anymore. Those days are long behind me.” I ushered her through into the sitting room, bare except for two sofa chairs, a table and a single floor lamp. The chairs faced the window, and I used them, or rather one of them, for when I was in the mood to read. The paddock that flanked my house was one of the main reasons I had purchased the home in the first place, serving as a wonderfully peaceful foreground.

“I understand Sir, but-” I held my hand up, cutting her off.

“First, I have to ask you not to call me Sir. I much prefer Jim. And Mr. Lawson was my father, a title I was never too fond of either.” I was hoping I didn’t sound insincere and her smile confirmed it.

“I’m sorry. Jim. And please, while we’re on the subject, I am a constable but definitely prefer Steph. Constable is just way too formal for me.” She reached forward with her hand once more