is related. There’s not much we can do, and considering that you didn’t lose any valuables…” He changed the subject. “Can you come in to be printed today? I’ll be here until quite late.”
“Yes. I can make it in the late afternoon.”
“Great. I’ll be here. Thanks again—”
“So,” she quickly interjected, “you confiscated the film from Tony Thomas’ camera?”
“Yes,” he answered cautiously.
“Anything unusual on the film?”
“I can’t discuss the details of the investigation, Miss Vanderwall.”
Makedde rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m a model. I’ve got to work with this guy. If he’s a sicko, I want to know about it. Besides, you owe me one. Quid pro quo, Detective.”
There was a long pause, then he said with a touch of mirth, “A Thomas Harris fan, I see. Only, I’m hardly Hannibal Lecter. I can only pass on what I ampermitted to, and I don’t require your darkest secrets in exchange. There is a certain protocol.”
“Well, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Anyway, I’m off to a photo shoot now. Shooting some lingerie with Tony Thomas…” She waited for a response.
The line was silent, then in a near whisper he said, “He took photographs of the body before the police arrived.”
Makedde’s jaw dropped. “My God.”
“We’re doing all we can,” Andy continued, clearly deciding that he’d said too much. “That’s all I can tell you.” It sounded like a pre-recorded statement. She knew she was getting to him, just a little bit, and she wasn’t willing to let go.
“I just want to know that this guy will be stopped. If he’s killed like this twice before, he’ll do it again.”
She heard a barely audible sigh.
“Don’t believe everything you read. We don’t know anything for sure at this point.”
“Bullshit. You know he’s done this before,” she challenged angrily, “probably more than twice. It takes years to build up to that sort of mutilation. Clearly this is a signature case. Guys like this don’t just stop; they perfect their MO and find new ways to get off.”
“It’s possible—” he paused. “What sort of books do you read in your spare time, anyway?”
She ignored his query. “Catherine was a friend. I saw what was done to her. I won’t feel safe until you find this guy.” The line was silent. She had hit her mark.
Andy’s voice was slow and resolute. “We’ll do everything we can.”
She wanted to believe him.
CHAPTER 14
There were several unusual elements in the “Stiletto Murders”, and as the days dragged on, Detective Flynn had become more and more obsessed with re-analysing and re-interpreting the evidence. He knew that in signature killings, every violent and perverse detail of the crime scene and victimology offered potentially valuable insights into the killer’s personality. However Catherine Gerber’s murder provided few clues, and many more questions.
He had spent all morning poring over the facts yet again, trying unsuccessfully to join up any personal or professional link between the three known victims. It seemed that they had a random killer on their hands; the hardest type to catch.
“Any thoughts on the condom thing?” Andy asked out of the blue, as Jimmy walked past his desk carrying his lunch, which reeked of garlic and onions.
“I reckon this malaka plans to kill ’em the moment he lays eyes on ’em,” Jimmy replied. “So he’s using the skins for his own reasons.” He stopped and leant on Andy’s desk, biting into a gyros sandwich.Tzatziki oozed out of the pita bread, down his fingers to his wrists. Jimmy was oblivious. “If my hooker-hater theory is right my friend,” he said with his mouth full, “maybe he’s afraid of AIDS. That could be another reason he likes them young.”
“There’s blood everywhere,” Andy pointed out. “If STDs or HIV was his concern, he would take other precautions as well. Maybe he does. I’ve got the feeling he doesn’t want to leave semen
“Yes. I can make it in the late afternoon.”
“Great. I’ll be here. Thanks again—”
“So,” she quickly interjected, “you confiscated the film from Tony Thomas’ camera?”
“Yes,” he answered cautiously.
“Anything unusual on the film?”
“I can’t discuss the details of the investigation, Miss Vanderwall.”
Makedde rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m a model. I’ve got to work with this guy. If he’s a sicko, I want to know about it. Besides, you owe me one. Quid pro quo, Detective.”
There was a long pause, then he said with a touch of mirth, “A Thomas Harris fan, I see. Only, I’m hardly Hannibal Lecter. I can only pass on what I ampermitted to, and I don’t require your darkest secrets in exchange. There is a certain protocol.”
“Well, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Anyway, I’m off to a photo shoot now. Shooting some lingerie with Tony Thomas…” She waited for a response.
The line was silent, then in a near whisper he said, “He took photographs of the body before the police arrived.”
Makedde’s jaw dropped. “My God.”
“We’re doing all we can,” Andy continued, clearly deciding that he’d said too much. “That’s all I can tell you.” It sounded like a pre-recorded statement. She knew she was getting to him, just a little bit, and she wasn’t willing to let go.
“I just want to know that this guy will be stopped. If he’s killed like this twice before, he’ll do it again.”
She heard a barely audible sigh.
“Don’t believe everything you read. We don’t know anything for sure at this point.”
“Bullshit. You know he’s done this before,” she challenged angrily, “probably more than twice. It takes years to build up to that sort of mutilation. Clearly this is a signature case. Guys like this don’t just stop; they perfect their MO and find new ways to get off.”
“It’s possible—” he paused. “What sort of books do you read in your spare time, anyway?”
She ignored his query. “Catherine was a friend. I saw what was done to her. I won’t feel safe until you find this guy.” The line was silent. She had hit her mark.
Andy’s voice was slow and resolute. “We’ll do everything we can.”
She wanted to believe him.
CHAPTER 14
There were several unusual elements in the “Stiletto Murders”, and as the days dragged on, Detective Flynn had become more and more obsessed with re-analysing and re-interpreting the evidence. He knew that in signature killings, every violent and perverse detail of the crime scene and victimology offered potentially valuable insights into the killer’s personality. However Catherine Gerber’s murder provided few clues, and many more questions.
He had spent all morning poring over the facts yet again, trying unsuccessfully to join up any personal or professional link between the three known victims. It seemed that they had a random killer on their hands; the hardest type to catch.
“Any thoughts on the condom thing?” Andy asked out of the blue, as Jimmy walked past his desk carrying his lunch, which reeked of garlic and onions.
“I reckon this malaka plans to kill ’em the moment he lays eyes on ’em,” Jimmy replied. “So he’s using the skins for his own reasons.” He stopped and leant on Andy’s desk, biting into a gyros sandwich.Tzatziki oozed out of the pita bread, down his fingers to his wrists. Jimmy was oblivious. “If my hooker-hater theory is right my friend,” he said with his mouth full, “maybe he’s afraid of AIDS. That could be another reason he likes them young.”
“There’s blood everywhere,” Andy pointed out. “If STDs or HIV was his concern, he would take other precautions as well. Maybe he does. I’ve got the feeling he doesn’t want to leave semen
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