Clever Fox

by Jeanine Pirro

  What should have been a two-and-a-half-hour drive turned into a nearly four-hour trek and when I finally arrived in Philadelphia and found the Poe house, I assumed Wheeler would be furious—if he had bothered to stick around. Instead, I found him sitting on a bench quietly reading poetry. He was trim and in his forties, wearing a green tie, black suit, mismatched socks, and brown shoes. He looked up and said, “Let’s see what you brought me.”

  “Here? Outside?” I asked.

  “I noticed a restaurant a few blocks down the street that advertised an early-bird dinner special.” He started walking briskly toward it without waiting for me.

  After we were settled at a table away from other diners, I asked, “How many FBI profilers are there?”

  “There were eleven of us when we started eight years ago. Double that now. We examine evidence from crime scenes, along with victim and witness reports, and use that information to develop a behavioral profile of an UNSUB.”

  “UNSUB?”

  “I work in Washington for God’s sake,” he said. “Everything is an acronym. You should know that. FBI. CIA. MSHA. OSHA. DOT. UNSUB means Unknown Subject.”

  “So far, it doesn’t sound like you do anything different from what a good detective would do,” I said.

  “Don’t be insulting,” he said. “First off, we’re smarter. We also believe a crime reveals something about the perpetrator’s behavior and that a person’s behavior—if correctly analyzed—can identify him. Habits are hard to break. For instance, you. I imagine you are always late, based on your tardiness.”

  I ignored his jab and said, “I read about the case that your unit solved in Montana—the little girl who was kidnapped and murdered.”

  “Ah, the souvenir hunter,” he said. “That got a lot of press because he kept trophies—just like you think your killer is doing. But the FBI didn’t actually invent profiling. In the 1950s the New York police asked a psychiatrist named James Brussel for help identifying a bomber. He knew paranoia tends to peak around age thirty-five and Brussel used his knowledge about mental illnesses to describe the bomber to the cops. His profile fit perfectly and they caught him. Of course, we’ve greatly refined our methods.” Clearly warming to the subject, he said, “Two of our best agents are about to publish an article that’s going to revolutionize how murders are investigated. It will explain organized and disorganized thinking.”

  “Sounds important,” I said, eyeing my still-unopened files and my watch.

  “An organized criminal plans his crime while a disorganized one acts spontaneously. This helps tell us if the killer might have a mental defect or is acting impulsively with little or no appreciation for what he has done. Disorganized criminals tend to be young. Many are under the influence of alcohol or drugs. An organized criminal plans ahead, is calculating, and conceals his identity.”

  “I get it. Someone organized would wipe away his fingerprints,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Wheeler replied.

  I checked my watch one more time. By this point, I knew Longhorn had contacted Whitaker and Miss Potts was on my scent.

  Wheeler noticed that I was antsy. “Did Isabella Ricci’s killer leave fingerprints?” he asked.

  “No. There weren’t any telltale footprints, either, even though the carpet in the bedroom was soaked with blood. Does that mean we’re looking for an organized killer?”

  “It suggests we might be looking for an organized thinker—not killer,” he said. “They’re different animals. You must be precise. Your suspect may have been careful to wipe up his fingerprints and check for footprints. But that doesn’t mean he planned this murder in advance. Tell me, did he bring duct tape, rope, or the murder weapon with him?”

  “Yes and no,” I said. “The apartment didn’t have any kitchen utensils, so he had to bring his knife with him. But he didn’t come prepared with anything to bind Isabella. He cut the cord from a radio clock next to her bed.”

  “That could suggest this was an impulsive crime, that the murderer saw an opportunity and took it. Maybe he works in a profession where he carries a knife? It also could suggest he had done this sort of act before. He knew how to use the electrical cord. I’ll need to study her murder and the others.”

  “I brought you everything.”

  “Good. Behavior always reveals personality. That’s our mantra,” Wheeler said. “If these cases are linked and one person is responsible for all of them, then his personality will emerge from our reading and understanding of the patterns that he unconsciously follows.”

  “So what exactly are you looking for?”

  “I can’t teach you how to profile a killer in five minutes,” he said.

  “But you could highlight the process,” I said. “Then while you’re reading my files, I could be thinking about what kind of details I might know that could help us.”

  Wheeler said, “We look at four parts of a crime. The first is the buildup. We ask ourselves: What fantasy or plan, or both, did the murderer have in his mind before he struck? Was he dreaming about raping a woman? Was he thinking about torturing her?”

  “In other words, you’re looking for a motivation,” I said.

  “Yes, but we’re not necessarily looking for an obvious one. We’re looking for some underlying emotional and mental motivation that surfaces before a crime. Perhaps the killer feels an urge to kill that comes when there is a full moon.”

  “A full moon?”

  “You have to keep an open mind,” he said. “Otherwise you will miss potential clues.”

  Wheeler continued: “After we discuss possible motives in a case, the next analytical step is an examination of the method and manner of a crime. What type of victim or victims did the killer choose and why? Was there a common trigger? For example, were all of the victims blond-haired or were they young women in their twenties who were in college? We’re looking for links that tie a series of murders together and provide us with clues about his personality.”

  “Isabella Ricci is the obvious link in these cases,” I said.

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Remember, you said you wanted fresh eyes.”

  I nodded and Wheeler continued his tutorial. “After we look at the method and manner of a murder, we examine the body and how it was treated. Did the murderer kill the person where the victim was found or did he move the body? Was there an attempt to hide the body or did the killer want the police to see his handiwork?”

  I was about to say something but decided not to interrupt.

  Wheeler said, “The final stage we study is the killer’s behavior after a murder. We’ve found that many killers actually contact the police after they commit a crime. If someone’s been kidnapped, they volunteer to hand out posters and canvas the neighborhood because they get a thrill from being part of the investigation. It helps them relive their crime. It gives them joy.”

  I said, “That’s why my killer is taking body parts, too, isn’t it? So he can relive the crime?”

  “Yes, but it is more than that. Missing body parts suggest we are dealing with a pure psychopath who truly enjoys killing. He will keep his trophies near him and play with them because they remind him of his prowess and the excitement that he got when he collected his souvenirs. But that is the secondary reason why I said the body parts are important in your cases.”

  “Tell me the main reason.”

  “If these autopsies show each of these victims had a body part taken, then we will know for certain that these are not mob killings, regardless of what Jack Longhorn says. We’ll know they are related and, most important of all, they were done by a single, male killer. Now, give me an hour to study the files. Go away.”

  I found a pay phone outside the restaurant and rang O’Brien.

  “Whitaker is looking for you,” he said, “and he ain’t happy. Something about Jack Longhorn and the Isabella Ricci case.”

  “Longhorn wants me to stop asking questions,” I explained.

  “And?”

  “
And I’m in Philadelphia talking to an FBI agent who works in the behavioral science unit. He’s reading the murder files right now.”

  “In other words,” O’Brien said, “you haven’t backed off.”

  “No one has officially told me, remember? I’m out of the office.”

  “You gonna stay away permanently? If so, it might be a good time for me to lead a coop,” he said, mistakenly sounding as if he were about to lead a revolt by chickens.

  “You mean coup as in coup d’état and you’re not that popular, O’Brien. I’ll be back, hopefully with some solid clues to persuade Whitaker this isn’t a waste of time.”

  “Dani,” he said, in a concerned voice, “we’ve tangled with Longhorn before. He plays dirty. You watch yourself.”

  It had been only fifteen minutes since I’d left Wheeler in the restaurant studying my files, so I took a short walk to clear my head and then returned to the pay phone to place another call. This time, I telephoned my house and punched in the code to retrieve messages from my answering machine. There were two. The first was from a very severe-sounding Hillary Potts informing me that District Attorney Carlton Whitaker III wanted to speak to me immediately and that I was supposed to stop whatever I was doing and come to his office. The next message was from Will.

  “Dani,” he said, “I’m sorry I got upset today. I’m just so goddamned tired of having that pompous FBI prick interfering in our relationship. Anyway, I came by to tell you good news—really great news, actually. It’s finally happening. The New York Times offered me a job. An editor there has been following my stories about the Isabella Ricci mob murders. They need a reporter in their Miami bureau to write about really big crimes. They got a guy down there named Ted Bundy who’s killed thirty women. The FBI has coined a new term to describe him. He’s a ‘serial murderer.’ The Times wants me down there in time for his sentencing. Dani, will you come with me?”

  45

  Agent Wheeler was sipping coffee when I rejoined him inside the restaurant.

  “This has been a most interesting afternoon,” he declared. “Before you arrived I toured the Poe house and now I’ve read your files.” He placed his cup gently on the table. “Ms. Fox, you are dealing with a serial murderer. These were not mob killings. That’s window dressing. What we have here is a very organized mind, an intelligent mind, and a murderer who has done this before and thinks he is smarter than the rest of us.”

  I felt a chill.

  “Longhorn is wrong, then?”

  “Dead wrong,” Wheeler answered. “Let’s begin with the first murder. On first glance it appears to be a sadistic, sex-related crime. Isabella Ricci was found naked, her hands bound, pieces of her flesh brutally cut off while she was tortured. While sex nearly always plays a role in these sorts of murders, there was no semen found at the scene, no indication of rape or sodomy or ejaculation. I do not believe this was a sex crime at all, although the killer might have received a sexual rush.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “It was a murder, however simple or complicated as that is.” He paused, clearly enjoying the explanation of his findings. He was in no hurry to speed up his analytical revelations. “This UNSUB kills because he derives joy from the actual act of killing—because ending a human life makes him feel powerful, omnipotent.”

  “Like God?”

  “Precisely, but rather than creating life, he destroys it. We’re dealing with a completely narcissistic driven personality—a psychopath who is highly intelligent and is completely self-absorbed. He views our world from a very narrow perspective. It exists only for his personal pleasure. We are toys in his playground, put here for his personal amusement, and the ultimate pleasure for him is controlling, dominating, and ending a human life.”

  “The body parts. They’re his trophies, then. Just as you suspected,” I said.

  “Yes, they’re his prizes, his keepsakes.”

  “Why do you think he cut off pieces of Isabella’s flesh as well as amputated her finger?”

  “Ah, that’s an excellent question that deserves a two-part answer,” Wheeler said. “Why did he torture her? The most obvious reason is because he could. This man has no empathy for another human being, because he cares only about himself. This means he is capable of extreme cruelty without the slightest feelings of pity or revulsion. My guess is that he was sexually or physically abused as a child and his mind is still trying to cope with that abuse. He felt powerless as a child. Now he has changed roles and he is the abuser who is in charge. The torture was all about the exertion of power.”

  “And the second part?” I asked.

  “He was toying with the authorities. He removed Isabella’s skin, in part, to hide the fact that he took her finger as a trophy. He gave Italian neckties to the others to mislead, but grew bolder, claiming a finger and toe in the case of the Mancinis and finally taking Marco Ricci’s penis—a rather noticeable amputation. Except for the murder of Donnie Gilmore, he has made no effort to hide his handiwork. In fact, he carefully staged each crime scene. It is as if he is daring you to catch him, leaving clues behind, but not so obvious that anyone would notice.” Wheeler wiped his hand across his chin as if he were stroking an imaginary beard and said, “You haven’t found any other women butchered and hanging from a ceiling. He is not taking revenge on a specific type of person. For instance, if he were rejected by a blond woman early in his life, his trigger might be blond women whom he would kill in his quest for revenge. But your victims are male and female, young and old.”

  “But there is a pattern, isn’t there?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Wheeler said. “In each case, the police have suspected the homicides were Mafia inspired. Your killer is like a man who has jumped onto a train, moving from one car to the next killing his prey.”

  “I’m not following you,” I said.

  “The killer knew Isabella Ricci had ties to the Mafia. I don’t know how he obtained this information, but he decided to take advantage of that theme. That train. After killing her, he began targeting victims on the same Mafia track, so to speak. When viewed through the first murder, all of the killings would seem logical to the police.”

  I said, “So he killed the Mancinis because Roman was an eyewitness.”

  “Yes, he knew the police would suspect the mob did it.”

  “And he killed Marco Ricci because we would think the mob killed him, too.”

  “Exactly, but I think this killer targeted those victims for reasons other than simply fooling you.”

  “What reasons?”

  “How does a person who is highly narcissistic, someone who wants to be God, prove that he is superior to the rest of us mere mortals? He does it by herding us like cattle, by manipulating us, by making us do whatever he wants. Isabella was the first move in his own little Kabuki play. He staged each death to spoon-feed you clues because he was, and may still be, directing you.”

  “It worked,” I said. “Longhorn, Coyle, even my boss, Whitaker, all believe these cases have been solved and that the persons responsible—Tiny Nunzio and Nicholas Persico—are dead.”

  “That’s important to him,” Wheeler said. “He wants to create perfect crimes because if he is caught, he is not omnipotent. Now, Ms. Fox, at some point this killer will have completed what he hoped to accomplish. He will exit the Mafia train and find a new train track to travel. Actually, my guess is that he is done in Yonkers.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he tried to hide the last murder, Donnie Gilmore,” Wheeler said. “He needed Gilmore dead. I’m not sure why. But it had something to do with our killer leading you and the police where he wanted you to go. Once he got investigators there, he was ready to bring down the curtain on his melodrama.”

  “So he’s stopped killing?”

  “No, he’s not. He will continue killing until he is caught or dies. But I think he will change his targets. He might move to a different city or begin killing an entirely different type of victim. He might targ
et drug dealers, for instance. But if he does, he will do it in a way that will mislead investigators. They will be chasing suspects who seem to be logical targets, but are actually simple pawns.”

  “You’re telling me this UNSUB, much like a choreographer, gets his thrill from killing and then wants us to dance to the steps that he’s designed for us? In these cases, he wanted us to believe that someone in the mob killed Isabella Ricci, then the Mancinis, then Marco Ricci, and finally Donnie Gilmore. And now he is done and will start an entirely new game with a new set of characters.”

  “That’s an excellent summation of my theory,” he said.

  “Can you give me a profile of this guy?”

  “Your killer is most likely a white male. He’s between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. He has a higher than average IQ, but he probably didn’t do well in school and is probably from a violent and/or abusive home. He might have been a bed wetter and he probably abused or tortured animals as a kid. He might have been obsessed with starting fires. And most of all, he is convinced that he is smarter than all the rest of us combined, because deep down he has a low self-image, possibly even self-loathing, so he overcompensates with feelings of grandiosity. If ridiculed, he will explode.”

  “If he’s done this before, do you think he’ll have other trophies besides his recent souvenirs?”

  “I think he will.”

  “Where does a killer keep a finger, a toe, or a severed penis?” I asked. “It’s not like he can put them on his coffee table or display them on a bookshelf.”

  Wheeler chuckled. “No, but he will keep them close. They will not be buried in the ground or hidden in a hard-to-access location. He’ll be like a teenage boy who hides a Playboy magazine under his mattress, only much more clever.”

  Wheeler pushed back his chair and said, “When I get back to my office, I will think about possible ways that we can work around Jack Longhorn and get my team involved. But I’m not sure that will be possible. Longhorn’s politically powerful and a stubborn ass, more politician than cop.”