Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 45

I GOT IN TO THE OFFICE at seven-thirty the following morning and was surprised to find Deputy Director Molinari on the phone behind my desk. Something had happened.

He signaled for me to close the door. From what I could make out, he was talking with his office back East, getting briefed on a case. He had a stack of folders in his lap and he jotted down the occasional note. I could make out a couple: 9mm and Itinerary.

“What's goin' on?” I asked when he hung up.

He motioned for me to sit down. “There's been a killing in Portland. A Swiss national was shot in his hotel room. An economist. He was preparing to leave for Vancouver this morning on a fishing excursion.”

Not to sound blas‚, but we already had two national-security murder cases and the leaders of the Free World were eyeballing our every move. “I'm sorry,” I said, “this relates to us, how?”

Molinari flipped open one of the folders he was holding, which turned out to be a set of crime photos he'd already had faxed from the scene. They showed a corpse in what looked to be a fishing vest with two bullet holes. His shirt was ripped open and his bare chest seemed to have had some letters scratched on it, MAI.

“The victim was an economist, Lieutenant,” Molinari said, “for the OECD.” He looked at me and smiled tightly. “That makes it clear.”

As I sat down, my stomach sank. Immediately clear. Mur-der number three. I studied the crime shots more closely. Shots to the chest and a coup de grƒce to the forehead. A large fisherman's hook in an evidence bag. The letters scratched into the victim's chest. MAI. “These letters mean anything to you?”

“Yeah,” Molinari said, nodding. He got up. “I'll tell you about it on the plane.”