yes. But they haven't given me even the slightest inkling why."
Detective Kunzel turned to the officers who were gathered all around him. "Anybody pick up anything from that conversation? Accent? Speech mannerisms? Anything at all?"
"Sounded local to me," said Detective Bellman. "But he's kind of sissy for a serial killer, don't you think? All that stuff about losing his happiness. 'I lost me.' Sounded like something out of a woman's magazine."
"He's educated," said one of the uniformed cops. "He's trying to talk tough and streetwise, but I'd lay bets that he's been through college. It's the words he uses. And he didn't cuss once."
"Age?"
"Difficult to say, but I think he's younger than he's trying to make out. Mid to late twenties, maybe. He's straining his voice to make it sound gruff."
"This I do not like at all," said Detective Kunzel. "I prefer mad-dog psychos to educated misfits. Remember the Lincoln Penny Killer? Never caught him. Smartest serial murderer we ever had to deal with."
"Who was he?" asked Sissy.
"Copycat killer. Historical copycat killer. Cut off three women's heads to imitate the murder of a girl called Pearl Bryan in 1896-Cincinnati's most notorious homicide. Pearl Bryan's head was never found. We never found these women's heads, neither.
"It's kind of a tradition when people visit Pearl Bryan's grave they leave pennies with the Lincoln side up, so that poor Pearl will have a head when it comes to Resurrection day. The Lincoln Penny Killer always left a penny where his victim's head had been. Kind of an intellectual joke."
Sissy said, "If only we could find out why Red Mask is feeling so vengeful."
"Who knows?" asked Detective Kunzel. "Look at Columbine. Look at that shooting at Virginia Tech. There wasn't any why. The perpetrators had a giant-sized chip on their shoulders, that's all."
"I think I need to ask one of his victims," Sissy told him.
"Please? Apart from that one girl-what's her name, Jane Becker-all of his victims are dead. And Jane Becker's told us everything she witnessed, which wasn't very much."
"Maybe the other victims saw more."
Detective Kunzel's eyes narrowed. "What are we talking about here?"
"A séance, I think you'd call it. I can talk to people who have passed over, Mike, especially if they feel an urgent need to explain what happened to them, which many of them do."
"I see. Well, I guess you can try. But I can't officially involve the homicide unit in anything like that."
Sissy cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't expect you to. I'm just pleased that you don't seem quite so skeptical anymore."
"Hey-don't think for one minute that you've made me a true believer. I still think that the future doesn't happen till it happens, and I still think that when you're dead, you're dead. But after what you did here today-let's say that I have more of an open mind. Maybe you can sense things that other people can't. Maybe you can guess how tomorrow is going to turn out."
"Who was Red Mask's first victim?" asked Sissy.
"He was a Realtor called George Woods," said Molly.
"Do you have an address for him?"
"Sure," said Detective Kunzel. He took out his notebook, licked his thumb, and leafed through it. "Here you are-1445 Riddle Road, Avondale. There's a phone number, too. I mean, his address is no secret, it was in the papers, and the number's listed in the phone book, but don't tell Mrs. Woods that I gave them to you, will you?"
"I'll be very discreet," Sissy assured him. "She may not agree to my holding a séance, but I doubt it. In all my years I've only had a handful of out-and-out refusals. Most people will do anything to hear their loved ones again."
Detective Kunzel turned to Molly. "Can she really do it? Like, if I wanted to talk to my pops…?"
"You always told me you hated your pops," said Detective Bellman. "You always said he was a world-class word-I-can't-use-in-front-of-present-company."
"I did. I did. But I never got the chance to tell him to his face,
Detective Kunzel turned to the officers who were gathered all around him. "Anybody pick up anything from that conversation? Accent? Speech mannerisms? Anything at all?"
"Sounded local to me," said Detective Bellman. "But he's kind of sissy for a serial killer, don't you think? All that stuff about losing his happiness. 'I lost me.' Sounded like something out of a woman's magazine."
"He's educated," said one of the uniformed cops. "He's trying to talk tough and streetwise, but I'd lay bets that he's been through college. It's the words he uses. And he didn't cuss once."
"Age?"
"Difficult to say, but I think he's younger than he's trying to make out. Mid to late twenties, maybe. He's straining his voice to make it sound gruff."
"This I do not like at all," said Detective Kunzel. "I prefer mad-dog psychos to educated misfits. Remember the Lincoln Penny Killer? Never caught him. Smartest serial murderer we ever had to deal with."
"Who was he?" asked Sissy.
"Copycat killer. Historical copycat killer. Cut off three women's heads to imitate the murder of a girl called Pearl Bryan in 1896-Cincinnati's most notorious homicide. Pearl Bryan's head was never found. We never found these women's heads, neither.
"It's kind of a tradition when people visit Pearl Bryan's grave they leave pennies with the Lincoln side up, so that poor Pearl will have a head when it comes to Resurrection day. The Lincoln Penny Killer always left a penny where his victim's head had been. Kind of an intellectual joke."
Sissy said, "If only we could find out why Red Mask is feeling so vengeful."
"Who knows?" asked Detective Kunzel. "Look at Columbine. Look at that shooting at Virginia Tech. There wasn't any why. The perpetrators had a giant-sized chip on their shoulders, that's all."
"I think I need to ask one of his victims," Sissy told him.
"Please? Apart from that one girl-what's her name, Jane Becker-all of his victims are dead. And Jane Becker's told us everything she witnessed, which wasn't very much."
"Maybe the other victims saw more."
Detective Kunzel's eyes narrowed. "What are we talking about here?"
"A séance, I think you'd call it. I can talk to people who have passed over, Mike, especially if they feel an urgent need to explain what happened to them, which many of them do."
"I see. Well, I guess you can try. But I can't officially involve the homicide unit in anything like that."
Sissy cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't expect you to. I'm just pleased that you don't seem quite so skeptical anymore."
"Hey-don't think for one minute that you've made me a true believer. I still think that the future doesn't happen till it happens, and I still think that when you're dead, you're dead. But after what you did here today-let's say that I have more of an open mind. Maybe you can sense things that other people can't. Maybe you can guess how tomorrow is going to turn out."
"Who was Red Mask's first victim?" asked Sissy.
"He was a Realtor called George Woods," said Molly.
"Do you have an address for him?"
"Sure," said Detective Kunzel. He took out his notebook, licked his thumb, and leafed through it. "Here you are-1445 Riddle Road, Avondale. There's a phone number, too. I mean, his address is no secret, it was in the papers, and the number's listed in the phone book, but don't tell Mrs. Woods that I gave them to you, will you?"
"I'll be very discreet," Sissy assured him. "She may not agree to my holding a séance, but I doubt it. In all my years I've only had a handful of out-and-out refusals. Most people will do anything to hear their loved ones again."
Detective Kunzel turned to Molly. "Can she really do it? Like, if I wanted to talk to my pops…?"
"You always told me you hated your pops," said Detective Bellman. "You always said he was a world-class word-I-can't-use-in-front-of-present-company."
"I did. I did. But I never got the chance to tell him to his face,
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