And right
now, all we have are surfaces to work with.'
'But Ulmer wasn't killed three hours after Delia,'
said Wingate. 'It was almost two days later.'
'So what?' said Greene. 'Listen, kid, I appreciate
that you'd like to make a good first impression, but
you've been here all of, what, twenty-one hours, and
frankly, I'm not sure I want to factor in all your cubscout
wild guesses about this guy's agreements with
the people he's slicing and bludgeoning to death.'
Hazel was staring at him. 'Okay?' he said to her.
'Detective Constable Wingate, what was the
point you were going to make about the delay
between the killings?'
Wingate turned to her. 'He's not just showing
up out of the blue, Inspector. He's keeping
appointments.'
There was a knock at the door and Cartwright
stuck her head in. 'I have Jack Deacon on the
phone. He wants to talk to you before he faxes his
report. That okay?'
'Conference him in,' said Hazel. She switched on
the receiver on the tabletop. It looked like a black
starfish with three arms. Presently, they heard
Deacon's voice.
'Let me guess – you guys are desperately trying to
find the connection between Ulmer and Chandler.'
Greene leaned toward the device. 'You should be
a detective, Jack.'
'Well, you can relax. Kind of. It is the same guy.
Ulmer's stomach was full of belladonna. I doubt he
felt a thing.'
'I guess that's good,' said Hazel. 'So what killed
him? Amatoxin?'
'No. None of that here. My guess is that it was the
blow to the head. Is Wingate there?'
'Here, sir.'
'That was a good notion you had about the blood,
son. It was Ulmer's blood on his head and neck, but
the fresher blood, the blood on his hands, it wasn't
his. Ulmer was B positive, but the blood on his
hands was mainly O.'
A chorus of voices called out to the doctor at
once.
'Do I still have your attention?' he said, and they
fell silent. 'It's a mixture of blood. I mean, from more
than one person. So I don't know whose it is.'
'What the hell,' said Greene. 'Are you certain?'
'I am.'
'Can you find out whose blood it is?'
'It's going to take a few days to unravel, I think. I
sent a sample down to the Toronto lab. They can
separate out the types and the DNA.'
'I want all the physical evidence associated with
the first scene taken down to Mayfair,' said Hazel.
'Jack?'
'Ma'am?'
'You're going to test all the bloodstains from the
Chandler site again.'
'I'll be waiting.' He rang off. Hazel stood over the
conferencing device, rubbing her forehead.
'What is it?' asked Greene.
She sighed heavily. 'I'm going to have to call
Mason now.'
'How's that going to go?'
'My guess is not well.' She shook the cobwebs
away and stood straight. 'James, you go to Mayfair
and get Delia's clothes out of evidence and take
them right to Jack Deacon. Ray, we need to talk to
Bob Chandler again. Unless you'd like to go with
DC Wingate to Mayfair.'
'No,' said Greene, quietly. 'I'll go see Bob.'
Mason's secretary kept her on hold for twelve
minutes. The average was fifteen. It failed to make
her feel optimistic. 'I have Commander Mason for
you,' said the secretary when she came back on. He
was one for pomp.
'Hazel?'
'Hello, Ian,' she said. 'I won't keep you long. I
need some more manpower up here. Maybe for a
month, maybe less.'
'Manpower?'
'A minimum of two detectives.'
'I thought you folks said "personpower" these
days. How's your mother?'
'She's well, thank you. Beth?'
'Terrific. Two detectives. Didn't I just send you
one?'
'Yes. And thank you. But it's not enough right
now.'
'See?' said Mason. 'Give an inch?' Ian Mason was
the worst kind of police bureaucrat: capricious and
jolly about it. In the early days, he seemed to delight
in denying any and all requests. His standard rejoinder
was is it really a rainy day ? If you could prove there
was a need that could not be dealt with in any other
way but by spending money, you had a chance. But
the best way to deal with Mason, Hazel had found
over the years, was to appeal to his vanity. If
now, all we have are surfaces to work with.'
'But Ulmer wasn't killed three hours after Delia,'
said Wingate. 'It was almost two days later.'
'So what?' said Greene. 'Listen, kid, I appreciate
that you'd like to make a good first impression, but
you've been here all of, what, twenty-one hours, and
frankly, I'm not sure I want to factor in all your cubscout
wild guesses about this guy's agreements with
the people he's slicing and bludgeoning to death.'
Hazel was staring at him. 'Okay?' he said to her.
'Detective Constable Wingate, what was the
point you were going to make about the delay
between the killings?'
Wingate turned to her. 'He's not just showing
up out of the blue, Inspector. He's keeping
appointments.'
There was a knock at the door and Cartwright
stuck her head in. 'I have Jack Deacon on the
phone. He wants to talk to you before he faxes his
report. That okay?'
'Conference him in,' said Hazel. She switched on
the receiver on the tabletop. It looked like a black
starfish with three arms. Presently, they heard
Deacon's voice.
'Let me guess – you guys are desperately trying to
find the connection between Ulmer and Chandler.'
Greene leaned toward the device. 'You should be
a detective, Jack.'
'Well, you can relax. Kind of. It is the same guy.
Ulmer's stomach was full of belladonna. I doubt he
felt a thing.'
'I guess that's good,' said Hazel. 'So what killed
him? Amatoxin?'
'No. None of that here. My guess is that it was the
blow to the head. Is Wingate there?'
'Here, sir.'
'That was a good notion you had about the blood,
son. It was Ulmer's blood on his head and neck, but
the fresher blood, the blood on his hands, it wasn't
his. Ulmer was B positive, but the blood on his
hands was mainly O.'
A chorus of voices called out to the doctor at
once.
'Do I still have your attention?' he said, and they
fell silent. 'It's a mixture of blood. I mean, from more
than one person. So I don't know whose it is.'
'What the hell,' said Greene. 'Are you certain?'
'I am.'
'Can you find out whose blood it is?'
'It's going to take a few days to unravel, I think. I
sent a sample down to the Toronto lab. They can
separate out the types and the DNA.'
'I want all the physical evidence associated with
the first scene taken down to Mayfair,' said Hazel.
'Jack?'
'Ma'am?'
'You're going to test all the bloodstains from the
Chandler site again.'
'I'll be waiting.' He rang off. Hazel stood over the
conferencing device, rubbing her forehead.
'What is it?' asked Greene.
She sighed heavily. 'I'm going to have to call
Mason now.'
'How's that going to go?'
'My guess is not well.' She shook the cobwebs
away and stood straight. 'James, you go to Mayfair
and get Delia's clothes out of evidence and take
them right to Jack Deacon. Ray, we need to talk to
Bob Chandler again. Unless you'd like to go with
DC Wingate to Mayfair.'
'No,' said Greene, quietly. 'I'll go see Bob.'
Mason's secretary kept her on hold for twelve
minutes. The average was fifteen. It failed to make
her feel optimistic. 'I have Commander Mason for
you,' said the secretary when she came back on. He
was one for pomp.
'Hazel?'
'Hello, Ian,' she said. 'I won't keep you long. I
need some more manpower up here. Maybe for a
month, maybe less.'
'Manpower?'
'A minimum of two detectives.'
'I thought you folks said "personpower" these
days. How's your mother?'
'She's well, thank you. Beth?'
'Terrific. Two detectives. Didn't I just send you
one?'
'Yes. And thank you. But it's not enough right
now.'
'See?' said Mason. 'Give an inch?' Ian Mason was
the worst kind of police bureaucrat: capricious and
jolly about it. In the early days, he seemed to delight
in denying any and all requests. His standard rejoinder
was is it really a rainy day ? If you could prove there
was a need that could not be dealt with in any other
way but by spending money, you had a chance. But
the best way to deal with Mason, Hazel had found
over the years, was to appeal to his vanity. If
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