Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 48

THE ROOM ABOVE might have just crashed through our ceiling, the way the FBI man blinked. To his credit, Molinari didn't react one way or the other. He seemed ready to hear what I had to say.

“You are aware of what Gerhard Propp did for a living? And why he was in this country in the first place?” Special Agent Thompson asked.

“I'm aware,” I answered.

“And where he was scheduled to present next week?”

“I was briefed,” I said. “Just like you were.”

Thompson aimed a smug smile toward Molinari. "So this

is some other homicidal maniac who just happens to be tar-

getting the G-8?“ ”Yeah,“ I said. ”That's exactly what I think." Thompson laughed and flipped open his phone. He

started to punch in his speed dial.

Molinari held his arm. “I'd like to hear what the lieu-tenant has to say.”

"Okay... The first thing is, this crime scene is com-pletely different from the others. One, this perp is probably male; that's clear from the force used to knock Propp to the ground. But that's not what I'm referring to. It's the physical condition of the body.

“The first two murders were detached.” I pointed to the crime scene photo taped to the mirror. “This is emotional. Personal. Look at the cuts. The killer defaced the body. He used a handgun and a knife.”

“You're saying there's a difference between blowing some-one up, or pouring Dra_ no down their throat, and this?” Thompson said.

“Have you ever pulled a trigger on the job, Special Agent?”

He shrugged, but his face went red. “No... So?”

I took down the photo of Propp's body. “Could you do this?”

The FBI man seemed to hesitate.

“Different killers, different temperaments,” Molinari cut in. “This one could be a sadistic maniac.”

“All right, then there's the timing. The message yesterday indicated that there would be another victim every three days. That'd be Sunday. Too soon.”

“More likely, the guy was available,” the FBI man said. “You can't be saying you're holding a terrorist killer to his word?”

“I'm saying precisely that,” I said. “I've been around pat-tern killers enough to understand them. There's a bond they make with us. If we can't take them at their word, why would we believe any of their messages? How would we confirm it's the same group behind their actions? They have to have total credibility.”

Thompson looked to Molinari for help. Molinari's eyes were on me. “You've still got the floor, Lieutenant.”

“The most important thing,” I said, “there's no signature. Both San Francisco killings were signed. He wants us to know it's him. You almost have to admire the ingenuity. A knapsack posing as a secondary bomb left outside the town house. Bengosian's own business form stuffed in his mouth.”

I shrugged at Molinari. “You can get every Ph.D. or foren-sic expert in the FBI or the National Security Council up here for all I care... but you brought me here. And I'm telling you, this ain't him.”