Inmate 1577

27

“Let’s get that over to the lab,” Burden said.

Vail stood there staring at the paper.

“So what does this mean for us?” Friedberg asked. “He’s glad you’re here?”

“Read the next sentence.”

HAVE I SURPRISED YOU? I’VE GOT MORE IN STORE FOR YOU. YOU’LL FIND OUT SOON ENOUGH

“More what?” Burden asked. “More surprises or more murders?”

“Both,” Vail said. “What time did Allman’s article come out? When did it hit the street?”

“Heck if I know,” Friedberg said.

Vail looked at him.

“What. I’m not a walking encyclopedia. I know history, not mundane facts, like newspaper delivery schedules.”

“Let’s find out,” she said. “And find out when it was posted to their website.”

As Friedberg lifted his phone to obtain the information, Burden’s handset rang. “Yeah.” Burden listened a moment, then hung up. He sat down heavily in his chair. “We’ve got more problems. There’s another article, a reporter with the Register.”

“Not unusual to have two different papers covering news in a big city,” Vail said.

“Except that this article supposedly has details we didn’t release to the press. In fact, Clay’s the only one who knew any of this stuff.”

Friedberg set his phone down. “Allman’s piece was posted on the Trib’s site around 7pm. Paper delivery started at 5:30am.”

“Can you get Allman here? We need to discuss this article. And this guy who wrote the other one, for the Register. Let’s get a sit-down with him, make sure we’re all on the same page. No pun intended.” She pointed to the screen. “Can you pull it up?” As Burden played with the browser, Vail continued: “If Allman gives us a hard time and won’t cooperate, we might have another hand to play-this Register guy.”

“Play ’em off one another,” Friedberg said.

“I’d rather not-only if we need to.”

“Here it is,” Burden said. “Give it a minute, the internet sometimes slows to a crawl.”

Vail crowded the screen as the Register banner appeared, followed by the header and byline. While waiting for the rest to load, she said, “You asked me back at the crime scene what the harm was in letting Allman come along. Well, now you’re seeing it.”

Burden leaned back in his chair. “He’s a reporter, Karen. A really good one, too. Sometimes we use them, sometimes they use us. Mentioning your name went a little too far over the line-from our perspective. He probably thought it was innocuous. It certainly wasn’t malicious, right?”

“Probably not.”

“I’m not even sure we told him not to mention you. To me, the bottom line when dealing with a reporter, is integrity. If we come to trust each other, both parties benefit. And I’ve always been able to trust him. So my two cents is that playing one off the other is inviting trouble.”

Vail gestured at the screen, then squinted to read the reporter’s name: Szczepan T. Scheer. “Whoa,” she said. “A c sandwiched between two z’s. I don’t think the human tongue was made to be able to pronounce that.”

“I believe it’s Stephen,” Friedberg said.

“No way.” She looked at it again and tried it on for size. “Sztzeepin.” She lifted her brow. “Fine…if you say so.”

“Oh, c’mon. Doesn’t seem so difficult now, does it?”

“Speak for yourself,” Vail said. “Looks Greek to me.”

“Actually,” Friedberg said, “he looks like an average Joe Caucasian, but his name’s got Prussian roots. Some German and Ukrainian, too. Last name’s actually Mennonite.”

“Prussian and Mennonite?” Vail glanced sideways at the inspector. “I think that qualifies as a mundane fact, Robert. Not history.”

Friedberg grinned. “Okay, fine. You got me. That one I happened to know.” He grabbed the mouse and clicked on Refresh.

“Actually,” Burden said, “his real name is Stephen but he said he wanted to ‘honor his ancestry.’ Personally, I think he changed it to make it stand out more so people would remember it. Cops in town just call him Stephen.”

“I call him jerk,” Friedberg said. “Remember I told you about that reporter who put the screws to me about that phantom piece I supposedly dropped at the crime scene? This is the guy.”

The page finally loaded and Vail leaned in close to read:

San Francisco-A series of gruesome murders in the city has baffled local detectives and sent them in search of answers, a quest that landed them on the doorsteps of the FBI’s vaunted Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Special Agent Profiler Karen Vail has taken the case and arrived from Quantico sometime in the past week, but sources close to the investigation state that they have yet to make any significant progress, and that no arrest is imminent. That’s disheartening news for San Franciscans, as the Bay Killer has now claimed six lives…

“I want to know who his sources are,” Burden said.

Vail ground her molars. “I’ve got a lot more questions than that.” She skipped further down the article:

The killer has left an unusually shaped brass key at each of the crime scenes, which the police have, as yet, been unable to identify. It appears to be a similar, if not identical, key to one found alongside the murdered body of Edgar Newhall, a still-unsolved San Bruno case from 1982.

One thing that is known, however, is that the female victims, all elderly, were beaten about the head, tortured with an exposed electrical wire, sodomized with an umbrella and raped before being murdered. An odd twist is that their husbands were also found dead, in some cases miles from the original crime scene, with a number stenciled across the forehead. The only immediately identifiable signs of injury are apparently head trauma from what appears to be repeated kicks…

Vail skimmed-until she hit one particular sentence that mentally slapped her across the face:

It is believed the killer is a man of below average intelligence who has targeted elderly women because they represent his mother, who likely dominated him as a child and young adult.

“Shit,” Vail said, backing away from the screen. “I’ve seen enough. We need to find this Stephen Scheer. Right now.”

“How the hell does he know all this?” Friedberg asked. “Who’s his source?”

Burden splayed a hand. “That’s what I was saying.”

“This is worse than a major leak in the department,” Vail said. “He’s incited the killer. I don’t know where he got that bullshit behavioral analysis, but it’s not only wrong, it’s belittling to the offender, and that’s likely going to set him off big time.”

“How so? Because it’s insulting his intelligence?” Friedberg asked.

“Saying we have no leads is like the kiss of death with an offender like this. I’d much rather we imply the killer’s made mistakes and that we have a lot of good leads coming in. Someone saw him, heard him, whatever. An arrogant and self-confidant serial killer can’t stand the thought that he made mistakes. That could be the most effective button we press that makes him contact us.”

“He already contacted us,” Friedberg said.

Vail massaged her temples. Control the media. I told them that. It’s so important…“Yeah, but did he write his note before, or after, he saw Scheer’s article?”

“I’ll find out if they have a similar release schedule as the Trib,” Friedberg said. “But we couldn’t know for sure if he saw it when it came out-or if he saw it at all.”

“Safe to assume this guy’s monitoring the media,” Vail said.

“Then I’ll find out when it posted to their website.”

“Could Allman have told Scheer about the key?” she asked.

Burden chuckled. “Stephen Scheer’s not exactly on Clay’s Christmas list-and vice versa. Remember I told you Clay doesn’t talk to him anymore? Twenty-five, thirty years ago they were close friends. Scheer had a three-year head start, built a decent rep in town covering cases. Scheer took Clay under his wing, broke him in, taught him how things are done. They co-wrote articles, covered cases, that sort of thing. But something happened, Scheer got pissed, and ended up leaving the Trib. No way is Clay Allman a source for Stephen Scheer.”

Friedberg’s phone rang. He lifted the headset, then said, “Got it. Thanks.” He turned to Burden. “Detective Dixon’s on her way up.”

“Do you know much about Scheer?” Vail asked.

“A bit of a head case,” Burden said. “Other than that, just rumor.”

“About what?” she asked.

“Alcohol,” Friedberg said. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stuck it between his lips. “Did some time in rehab. But I heard stuff about domestic violence. Knocked the wife around or something. He lives in Berkeley. I can call over, see if they’ve got anything on record. Actually-Birdie, you’d better do it. Because of my history with him-”

“My pleasure. I’ve always wanted to rattle his cage.”

Friedberg shook his head. “He’s not gonna give up his source.”

“Whose source?”

The voice came from behind them. Vail turned. Dixon had just walked into the unit. As Vail filled her in on the Allman and Scheer articles, Dixon took a seat atop the worktable that was pushed up against the wall where the whiteboard was mounted.

“All right,” Burden said. “Let’s do this. Robert, how about you go meet with Millard Ferguson about the ’82 case. And you two-track down Scheer and see what you can get from him. I’m not too optimistic, but he might tell a couple of women more than he’d tell me.”

Vail and Dixon faced each other. “Did he just insult us?” Dixon asked.

“Nah, he’s harmless.” Vail winked at him. “It’s just his way.” She led Dixon out of the Homicide unit and into the wide corridor. “Burden doesn’t think we can get Scheer’s source.”

“Then we have to work extra hard to prove him wrong.”