by R.J. Ellory
′What we have here,′ he said quietly, ′is a series of possibilities. That′s all we have. If we consider that there is no link between these events . . .′ He paused, smiled wryly. ′Then we have the most extraordinary case of coincidence that has ever been witnessed.′ He looked at the gathered faces, each of them intent, focused. ′We have to assume, and I use the word assume reservedly . . . we have to assume that there is a connection.′
Lucas raised his hand. ′I don′t think anyone is questioning the fact that these are related . . . I think we have to consider the possibility that we are very late in the game.′
′How so?′
′Who says that the Grant girl was the first?′ Lucas asked rhetorically. ′This might have been going on for years. We have absolutely no idea.′
′I think I have an answer for that,′ Irving said. ′I believe we have someone who wants us to know what he is doing.′
′That′s a significant assumption,′ Lucas interjected. ′Why do you think that?′
′Three reasons,′ Irving replied. ′Firstly, the phone call after the double murder. Ashley Burch and Lisa Briley. For as I understand that call came through the Ninth′s switchboard so we′ll never trace it. He could have made the call himself with voice modulation software, he could have paid someone to do it. Who the hell knows. Secondly, in the case of James Wolfe, the perp went to the trouble of painting the boy′s face like a clown. Gacy never did that. He never painted anyone′s face but his own. Whoever did that did it because he wanted us to get the connection. And this morning, the fact that we found this girl′s body and she was dressed the way she was dressed, that hair had been torn from her scalp, and her eyes had been removed . . . these things should have been enough to give us the connection to Shawcross and the Anne Marie Steffen case.′ He paused. ′But no, he wanted to make really sure we got it, hence the letter to The Times. He uses the Zodiac code to give us the Shawcross letter.′
′Why the Zodiac code?′
′Theory again,′ Irving said, ′but the thought I had was that he wants us to know that he′s smarter than all of them . . . Zodiac included. The previous perps were all caught, a couple of them executed, but not Zodiac—′
′So why not just do a Zodiac-style killing, why send a letter?′
′Perhaps he is only replicating killings of people who were caught,′ Irving said.
′This is all supposition and assumption,′ Gary Lavelle said. ′I saw the way that girl had been thrown under the Queensboro Bridge. Whoever did that battered the crap out of her. A mile away we get two boys shot to hell and put inside the trunk of a car. Whatever the hell we′re dealing with, whoever this guy is trying to be, we′re still faced with the very real fact that we have at least eight victims and no co-ordinated line of investigation. Already this has been going on since . . . well, since when?′
′First one, at least the first we know of, was Mia Grant back at the start of June,′ Irving said.
′So more than two months this has been going on, and where the hell are we?′
′Where we are,′ Farraday said, ′is exactly where we need to be, but the reason we′re here is not actually because of what we have or haven′t done, but because of this proposed newspaper article.′
′And what, may I ask, is the story with that?′ Vincent asked.
′There is a group of citizens,′ Irving said slowly. ′A group of people, how many I don′t know, who meet in the Winterbourne Hotel on West 37th on the second Monday of every month. As far as I can understand they are all survivors of serial-killer attacks—′
′What?′ Lavelle asked. ′You′re not telling me that we′ve got a group of vigilantes?′
Irving shook his head. ′I don′t know what we′ve got. One of the members is a guy called John Costello. He′s Karen Langley′s researcher at the City Herald, and he was the one who put two and two together on these killings.′
′He′s a suspect?′ Lucas asked.
′I don′t know what he is. He′s not a straightforward guy. He′s a little left-of-center, but I don′t think that Karen Langley is the brains behind the article. I think he is. I think he does the work, she writes the articles and takes the byline because he doesn′t want the attention. Truth is, I don′t know. I don′t know what Costello′s story is, and I don′t know what the best course of action is as far as he′s concerned. We may have something completely innocent here, just a smart guy who knows a great deal about serial killers. He′s a crime journalist′s researcher, for God′s sake, he′s supposed to know this shit. The mere fact that he put two and two together so quickly . . . well, that′s another reason I suspect these killings don′t go back further than Mia Grant. If they did I think we would have seen this article sooner.′
′Okay, so he wrote the article,′ Lucas said. ′Anything else?′
Irving nodded. ′Within a couple of hours of this hooker being found this morning he delivered Arthur John Shawcross′s biography to me here.′
′You′re not serious?′
′As can be,′ Irving replied.
′And who the fuck is this Shawcross anyway?′ Lavelle asked.
Irving shook his head.
Hannah Doyle, Hayes′ CSA from the Third, put her hand up at the far end of the table. ′I know a little about him, he was one of my research papers. He was called The Monster of the Rivers, also the Genesee River Killer. He claims to have killed fifty-three people, but they′ve officially only attributed thirteen to him. Usual history for serial killers . . . juvenile sadism, torturing animals, graduating to burglary and arson. The standard pattern, you know - unable to connect with people, difficulty managing relationships, accident-prone. He saw some military service, and did close on two years in Attica for attempted robbery and arson back in the early seventies. When he came out he got married - round April of ′72, I think . . . Couple of weeks later he killed a ten-year-old boy, then three or four months after that he raped and strangled an eight-year old girl. They got him for that and he did nearly fifteen years, some in Attica, some in Greenhaven. He came out in early ′87, killed again in ′88, and then the next one was this Anne Marie Steffen in September of the same year. He was picked up again sometime around 1990, confessed to however many additional killings, and he′s now doing two-fifty in Sullivan.′
′That′s up in Fallsburg, right?′ Vincent asked.
′Same place as Berkowitz.′
′Berkowitz?′ Lucas asked.
′Son of Sam,′ Hannah Doyle said.
′So this gets us where?′ Farraday asked. ′We know something about these people, the killers who are being copied, but what does it tell us about the copycat?′
′None of these original killers are out on parole,′ Deputy Coroner Gerrard said. ′Is that correct?′
′Far as I can gather,′ Irving said, ′we have Carignan in Minnesota Correctional, Carol Bundy was given life but is eligible for parole. Douglas Clark is on Death Row in San Quentin, Jack Murray is dead. Gacy was executed in Stateville in 1994, and Kenneth McDuff in the Walls in Texas in November ′98. And Shawcross, who′s in Sullivan and won′t be coming out.′
′And we are completely ruling out the possibility that the current perp could be any of these,′ Gerrard said matter-of-factly.
Irving nodded. ′I consider that a relative certainty.′
′And Zodiac?′ Vincent asked.
′Last suspected Zodiac killing was May 1981,′ Jeff Turner said. He glanced at Hannah Doyle and smiled. ′I did Zodiac on my research paper, and there are certain characteristics about Zodiac victims that never changed. He killed on weekends in areas near water, always on a full or new moon. Apart from a taxi driver, he attacked couples, primarily young students. It was always at dusk or at night, and he used different weapons each time. Robbery was never a motive and he never sexually abused or molested victims, either before or after killing them. He was credited with killing forty-six people, but in actual fact there were only ever six that were conclu
sively attributed.′
Farraday leaned forward. ′We′re not dealing with the Zodiac. I think we can safely rule out that possibility.′
There was a murmur of agreement from the gathering.
′So where now?′ Vincent asked.
′Seems obvious that we get a warrant on this Winterbourne group,′ Lavelle said.
′For what?′ Farraday asked. ′For being too fucking smart for their own good?′
′For our own good,′ Lucas interjected. ′Fucking whacko makes us look like a bunch of cunts.′
′Nice,′ Hannah Doyle said sarcastically.
Lucas smiled awkwardly, raised his hand in a conciliatory fashion. ′Sorry. Forgot I was in company.′
′I′ll go back there,′ Irving said. ′They meet tonight—′
′You spoke to this guy, right?′ Lucas asked.
Irving nodded.
′How′d he seem to you?′
Irving shrugged. ′Hell, I live in New York . . . everyone seems crazy to me.′
Murmurs of recognition from the others, then comments were shared and, for a moment, it seemed that Irving′s wisecrack had eased the tension. Until that moment none of them had perceived it clearly, but it was there. Eight victims. They knew very little at all, and they were aware of how close that was to nothing.
′He′s what . . . late thirties—′ Irving began.
′He′s a survivor, right?′ Hannah Doyle asked. ′A survivor of what?′
Irving leaned back in his chair, folded his hands across his stomach. ′Anyone heard of the Hammer of God killings?′
Lavelle raised his hand. ′Early eighties, right. That was where? Jersey City?′
′Jersey City, yes. Guy called Robert Clare. Killed five, all teenagers, courting couples, you know? Beat their heads in with a hammer. Our guy, this John Costello, was the only one who survived. His girlfriend, Nadia McGowan, she didn′t make it. He was sixteen, she was a year or so older. Costello was injured badly, spent some time in hospital, but he came through.′
′They got Clare, right?′
′They got him,′ Irving said. ′December ′84. He committed suicide before the trial. Hanged himself in a psych facility.′
′And your impression of this guy, this Costello character?′
′I only met him once. He figured out where I eat and asked to meet me there.′
′He did what?′
Irving smiled. ′He knew who I was. He knew I′d been assigned to the Mia Grant case. I went over to see Karen Langley at the City Herald, she gave away that he was the one who′d done the research on her article.′
′What the fuck is the deal with this Langley woman?′ Lucas asked. ′She gets a rush doing this shit?′
′Don′t break a sweat,′ Vincent said, ′she′s a newspaper hack. They′re all the freakin′ same.′
′Anyway,′ Irving went on, ′far as I understand, this article is not going to be appearing in the Herald or The New York Times, and I′m not aware of any TV crews turning up at police precincts, or news bulletins or anything going out.′
′Give it time,′ Lucas said. ′Just give it a little time. Once they get an idea we′re collaborating on something they′ll be all over us.′
′We′re getting off track here,′ Vincent said. ′The question is whether or not this Costello guy is in the frame for this.′
′He′s as good as anyone right now,′ Irving said. ′Gut feeling tells me no, but I′ve been wrong before. If he is our guy then he′s seriously good at giving nothing away.′
′So a plan of action,′ Farraday said. ′I propose that due to the fact the Fourth has two separate incidents, whereas the Ninth, Fifth, Seventh and Third have only one each, the temporary co-ordination point be established here. Any disagreements?′
There were none.
′Okay, as far as forensics and crime scene analysis is concerned, who out of you lot has the most years on this?′
Turner raised his hand. He was visibly the oldest of the group.
′Right, any objections to Jeff Turner as acting controller for the forensic and crime scene analysis issues?′
Once again, there were no disagreements with Farraday′s proposal.
′Okay, so we have what we have. Irving and Turner pool their resources. I send a briefing to Chief Ellmann tonight. We get a silencer on this Karen Langley at the City Herald, and we establish an agreement with The Times that they do nothing on this Zodiac letter while there′s an ongoing investigation. Any press queries, requests for statements or conferences come directly to me . . . and don′t even be smart and say ′′No comment′′ to anyone. If you say ′′no comment′′ they know we′re into something. Anyone asks what this was about it was a meeting regarding security for the Mayor′s re-election walkabouts. The key to this is to keep it quiet, keep it discreet. We′ve worked to keep this thing under wraps so far and I want it to stay that way. Newspaper headlines I can do without, you understand?′
′And John Costello?′ Lavelle asked.
′I′ll follow up on Costello and this Winterbourne group,′ Irving said.
Farraday rose from his chair. ′I suggest our line of investigation works through all known serial killers for the last fifty years. We get a database organized and establish the dates of all past serial killings that occurred between now and Christmas. I know that it′ll be a nightmare. I understand that there is no way of predicting whose killing he might replicate next, but if we know that there was no killing that fell between, for example, now and next Tuesday, then we at least have some breathing space.′
He paused for a moment, looked at each individual present. ′Any questions?′
There were none, and almost immediately people stood up, moved around to talk to each other. The hubbub of discussion grew to such an extent that Ray Irving could barely hear Farraday when he said, ′Make this thing go away, for God′s sake . . . can you do that for me?′
Farraday didn′t wait for an answer. He merely straightened his jacket, circumnavigated the crowd of detectives and CSAs, and left the room.
Irving stood there for some time, trying to remember what his life had been like prior to June 3rd.
NINETEEN
′You got the envelope?′ John Costello asked. He stood on the sidewalk outside the Winterbourne Hotel on 37th Street. He smiled at Ray Irving as if this was the unexpected reunion of old and important friends.
′I did.′
′Shawcross, right?′
′Right.′
′Expect that rattled some cages.′
Irving nodded. He stood there for a moment and looked at John Costello as if he was seeing him for the first time.
Costello was of average height, perhaps five nine or ten. He dressed well - had on a smart pair of pants, a sport jacket, a clean, pressed white shirt. His hair was professionally cut, he was clean-shaven, his shoes were shined. He looked like an architect, a writer, perhaps an advertising executive who′d made his name with successful campaigns and now devoted his energies to consultations.
He did not look like a serial killer who spent his time replicating earlier murders and then wrote newspaper stories about them.
But then, Irving thought, who did?
′Are you making progress?′ Costello asked.
′What do you want me to tell you, Mr Costello?′
Costello glanced back down the street and as if there was something he expected to see. ′I don′t know, Detective . . . I suppose I′m still hopeful that you people will always be one step ahead of the other people.′
′The other people?′
′The Shawcrosses and McDuffs and Gacys of this world. Is it not frustrating always to be in a position where you are chasing those who have done terrible things, as opposed to getting to them before they do it again?′
′Maybe you have to look at it from the viewpoint that those we apprehend have been prevented from doing further terrible things. We can′t undo what′s happened, but we can save futur
e lives.′
Costello closed his eyes for a moment, and then smiled resignedly. ′If you hoped to see who else was attending our meeting I had them leave by the back way. I′m not in good favor at the moment.′
′Because?′
′Because I have broken a cardinal rule of the group.′
′Which is?′
′That everything stays inside the group.′
′That doesn′t seem to be a very responsible attitude.′
′Depends on your perspective,′ Costello replied. ′I am the only member of the group whose attacker did not attack again. The man who attacked me—′
′Committed suicide, right? Robert Clare.′
′Yes, Robert Clare. The others all survived an attack by someone who then went on to kill again.′
′So there is no love lost between your group members and the police,′ Irving said matter-of-factly.
′I think it would be safe to say that.′
′How many are there?′
′Aside from me, there are six. Four women, two men. Seven of us in all.′
′And who heads the group, who founded it?′
′A man called Edward Cavanaugh.′ Costello smiled. ′Strictly speaking, what he started and what it became were not the same. Cavanaugh was not a victim, his wife was. He saw it as a means by which he could get some support and assistance from people he thought might understand how he felt. His wife was murdered some years ago, and he started this as a sort of bereavement group, for support, for fraternity if you like. The people who responded to his advertisement were people who had themselves survived attacks, not their loved ones or relatives.′
′And Cavanaugh is one of the male members you mentioned?′
′No. He committed suicide some time ago.′
′And how did you find out about it?′
′I was in touch with someone on the internet, back in 2000. She and I maintained a relationship, just e-mails, a few phone calls, you know? There was nothing between us except a degree of friendship. She found out about the group, wanted to go, but didn′t want to go alone. She asked me to accompany her and I did.′
′And she′s still part of the group?′