Daddy Long Legs Read Free Page A

green school satchel on his back and dusty tog bag in his hand.
    Barry was a gentle and trusting boy, small for his age. He liked nothing more than practising piano etudes and scales in the safety of his house. Yvette Coetzee, Barry’s mom, loved him dearly. And maybe because he was her only child, she was over-protective and preferred a sheltered life for her son. It was Barry’s dad, Roedolf Coetzee, who suggested he take up a sport. Since he was way too small for rugby and intimidated by the hardness of a cricket ball, he reluctantly took up tennis. It was after another unsatisfying practice session that Barry now walked home.
    He took the same route home every day and had become a regular sight along his journey. And yet, witnesses were scarce on that fateful day.
    Dusk was already settling over the small Northern Cape town when Barry stopped to purchase a packet of Super C’s at the Aurora corner shop (witnesses said). After that he walked a short distance along Main Road and took a right at Church Street (witnesses said). Outside the Moerdyk Auto Repair Shop, Barry cordially greeted Jan Moerdyk – who subsequently became the last person to see Barry alive. Somewhere between this point and the end of Church Street – less than half a kilometre away – Barry was swallowed up in a shadowy abyss. And became the second victim of Daddy Long Legs.
    Regrettably, no-one saw anything. Details were few ... and vague. A white/beige/yellow late/early model Toyota/Ford/Nissan had been spotted in that part of town (witnesses said). The one moment he had been in plain sight and the next ... well, it was as if the earth had swallowed him up whole.
    Of course Barry was only reported missing later that night. After his hysterical mom had phoned up half of Hope (and knocked on the doors of the other half) in an effort to locate her missing son. By early the next morning, the worst suspicions of the small town’s residents had been confirmed: the disappearance (and subsequent discovery) of Paul Walters a few months earlier was not an isolated case. Somebody was abducting and brutally murdering the little boys of Hope.
    Bizarrely, no-one had at this stage linked the twisted poem – that had featured a few months before in the Gazette – to the disappearance of Paul Walters. That was all to change when the following entry appeared in the classifieds the next day:
     
    Little Miss Muffet
    Sat on a Tuffet
    But little boy Barry is
    Locked in a closet
    Poor Little boy Barry
    Can kick and scream
    But nothing will carry
    And none will hear him howl
    Now that he is mine
    To relish, devour and foul
     
    The disappearance of Paul Walters and the discovery of his bruised and battered little body had shocked and horrified the people of Hope. The publication of the poems, and its link to the abduction of the two boys, now raised the revulsion levels of the residents to fever pitch. It was not a situation helped by the realisation that some sick mind was toying with the good people of Hope with disturbed little compositions. For the first time people realised there was a serial killer in their midst – stalking and preying on their children. Overnight the town of Hope became a very different place.
    The story made headlines across the nation and featured prominently in the radio and television news of the South African Broadcasting Corporation – back then, the country’s sole electronic news medium. Newspaper reporters from cities across South Africa descended on the little Northern Cape enclave.
    Crimes like these were unknown – this was before the revelation of the perversions of the infamous Gert van Rooyen – and, as in the case of the first disappearance, the local police found themselves completely out of their depth. However, this time they immediately called in the help of two murder and robbery detectives from Kimberley. Detectives James Burke and Klaas Haasbroek hurried to the scene of the crime – and promptly became media