Don't Ever Call Me Helpless. Ruth Wykes

had any real idea that something was wrong. By the time a young, half-naked woman ran into a supermarket in Willagee and asked them to call the police, at least four young women were dead. Abducted, repeatedly raped, tortured, drugged and murdered.

      As police listened with mounting horror to the story being related to them by the frightened young woman, their sense of dread grew. They knew that in the previous several weeks there had been four separate reports of missing women in Perth, and at least one police officer had privately begun to worry that a serial killer was operating in the small, isolated city. Until now it had been a vague fear, but as the story began to unfold that fear gave way to disbelief, then horror.

      Willagee is one of Perth's unpretentious suburbs. Situated around 13 km south of Perth, it is a Labor heartland. Australian to its back teeth, its population is 76 per cent Australian-born, 10 per cent of English origin and the rest a smattering of other immigrants. Half the population is married, more than one-third are Catholic and the average house is a separate dwelling.

      Developed in 1951, Willagee is named after a small swamp referred to on early maps as 'Wilgee', an Aboriginal term meaning red ochre. This swamp, from which local Aborigines dug ochre, was situated in what is now Kardinya. Most streets are named after those who arrived on HMS Success under Captain Stirling in 1827.

      David and Catherine Birnie moved into 3 Moorhouse Street, Willagee, in 1984 and were still there in 1986. The house itself was unprepossessing, a modest white-brick building that seemed to be suffering from neglect. The garden was bedraggled, paint was peeling from the walls and bushes had been allowed to grow tall enough to conceal the front windows. A cursory glance from a passer-by would have left you with the impression that this was just another rental property, and that the tenants were terrible gardeners.

      But 3 Moorhouse Street was something else altogether: it would become known as Perth's House of Horrors. It became a prison, a torture chamber and a crime scene, a stage upon which unimaginable acts of depravity and sadism would be acted out by the Birnies.

      When the Birnies were captured, and the extent of their horrific crimes was revealed to a stunned and disbelieving public, there were cries to have the house bulldozed. Nobody could imagine living in that house, not once they knew what had taken place inside those walls. But 3 Moorhouse Street has survived, and today remains structurally identical to how it looked back then. It has been painted and cleaned up, and the garden is healthy and thriving. It looks like a nice house in a pleasant working-class suburb of Perth.

      Mary

      Monday 6 October started out like any other week for 22-year-old Mary Neilson. She was a psychology student at the University of Western Australia who was planning to work as a counsellor with the Department of Community Welfare. To earn some extra cash Mary held down a part-time job in a deli.

      Mary's parents were both TAFE lecturers, and in October 1986 they were enjoying a holiday in Britain. Mary's Monday began like any ordinary week: she went to work at the deli, and had lectures at university later that day. With a few hours to spare Mary decided to do something about the tyres for her car. She needed new ones.

      Like many university students Mary had limited funds and the option of buying cheaper tyres was appealing, so she went to a car wreckers in the southern suburb of Myaree. Here she was served by small, mild-mannered David Birnie, who showed her some tyres and then told her that if she called around to his place he would be able to do her a much better deal. David lived less than five minutes' drive from where he worked. Mary agreed to go and buy the tyres privately from Birnie.

      When she knocked on the door at 3 Moorhouse Street, Willagee, she was met at knifepoint by a very different David Birnie who, along with his partner Catherine, dragged Mary into the bedroom, tore her clothes off her, gagged her and chained her to the couple's double bed. For the next several hours Mary Neilson was repeatedly raped by David Birnie while Catherine looked on, encouraged him and asked him explicitly what was turning him on the most.

      As night fell the Birnies decided they needed to 'remove the evidence' from the house. Still bound, Mary was dragged into their car, driven to Gleneagle Forest, south of Perth, and in the middle of the night was raped again. Then David Birnie took out a nylon cord and wrapped it around Mary's neck. Using a small tree branch to tighten the cord, Birnie strangled Mary Neilson as she lay on the ground begging for her life.

      After she had died the Birnies dug a shallow grave and, before burying her, stabbed Mary. David told Catherine he had read somewhere that this would allow gases to escape as the body decomposed.

      Given what is now known about piquerism (a stabbing sexual fetish), it is difficult to believe that there was ever such a pragmatic thought in David Birnie's head. It is far more likely that the act of penetrating his victims with a knife was yet another kick for this depraved man.

      When they arrived back in Perth, David and Catherine knew they couldn't leave Mary Neilson's car parked outside their house. David drove the Galant to a riverside car park, opposite police headquarters, where it was found six days later.

      Over the years many people have speculated that this, the first known murder committed by David and Catherine Birnie, was unplanned. Experts believe that David impulsively took advantage of Mary Neilson turning up at his workplace and being an 'easy target'. This isn't true. While Mary was in the terrible position of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, David and Catherine had been talking about what they would do, and planning for at least a year.

      According to Catherine the murders she committed with her partner David Birnie were thoroughly researched and planned. 'We looked into everything before we started, every little detail ... right down to how long you could leave a car in a certain place before anyone would notice it,' she said. 'We bought this book, it was called Perfect Murder or something like that, and we learned a lot from that about what to do.'

      Did the Birnies leave Mary Neilson's car so close to police headquarters deliberately? Was it a message to the police and the community? 'No,' scoffed Catherine, 'we did our homework and we found out that that was a car park where the council wouldn't check for days.'

      Did they intend to actually murder Mary Neilson? 'She saw our faces, didn't she? She saw where we lived.'

      Questions about whether they knew they would kill Mary even before she knocked on their Moorhouse Street door are anticipated. A killer's eyes lock on to those of the inquisitive; cold, expressionless, soulless.

      Mary Neilson never stood a chance. From the moment she accepted David's invitation to drop over to his place and negotiate cheaper prices for her tyres, her fate was sealed.

      Susannah

      Just two weeks later, on Monday 20 October 1986, David and Catherine Birnie were actively hunting for their next victim. They spent hours driving around the streets of Perth looking for 'the right one'. Unlike some serial killers they weren't drawn to particular physical characteristics, age groups or 'types'; she just had to be female, alone, and vulnerable.

      They found her hitchhiking along Stirling Highway in Claremont, a well-heeled area in Perth's western suburbs. Her name was Susannah Candy, and she was 15 years old. It obviously didn't seem dangerous to accept a lift from a mild-looking couple in their thirties, especially since one of them was a woman.

      Susannah Candy was an outstanding student at Hollywood High School. Her father, Dr Douglas Candy, one of Perth's most respected ophthalmic surgeons, worked at St John of God Hospital. Susannah lived at home with her parents, two brothers and sister at the time of her disappearance. Dr Candy was protective of his four children and when Susannah started a part-time job in a local restaurant he would meet her after work and walk her home. Dr Candy was worried enough that he asked her to give up her job. But Susannah enjoyed her work and on that Monday night she was alone on Stirling Highway when the Birnies drew up alongside her.

      On the pretext of offering Susannah a lift home, the Birnies coerced her into their car and drove back to their Moorhouse Street home. They kept Susannah Candy tied to their bed and committed repeated offences against her, until David Birnie decided it was time to kill her. He produced a nylon