"Yessir," said Ebbans, "I'm just a hired hand here."
"Now between all of you," Ribbon continued, "you got a flatbed full of investigating experience." His burdened gray eyes rose to Corde's. "And I'm busier'n a dog in a fire hydrant factory…"
Corde nodded sympathetically. You're running and there's an election come November.
"So I can't get as involved in the case as I'd like. But keep remembering, people're going to be watching us. They're going to be real curious how we do on this one so I want us to be pretty, you know, aggressive. Now I've been doing some research and I'm pretty bothered by this cult business."
Corde was silent. It was Ebbans who asked, "Cult?"
"What I want you to do is first come up with a profile of our killer."
Jim Slocum said, "In these situations that's what you always have to do."
Wynton Kresge wrote this down.
"Absolutely," Ribbon said. "I know we haven't had any of these kinds of killers here in New Lebanon before but I think it's important for us to get up to speed. What you have to do with cult murderers is peg them. Find out what makes them tick."
Kresge scribbled rapidly. Corde glared at him and he stopped writing.
Ribbon continued, "Now a profile should include two things. The physical description of our man, one, and what's going on in his mind, two. Stuff like is he sexually repressed, does he hate his mother, does he have trouble, you know, getting it up, was he beaten as a child…"
Corde, who had a well-used NCAVC criminal profiling flowchart tacked up on his wall, nodded solemnly and let the embarrassment for his boss trickle off.
"Sounds important," Miller said, and brushed his hand over his excessively short crew cut.
"Absolutely," Ribbon said. "I've been reading up on investigations like this. One thing that's troubling is this moon business. Think about it. She was killed on the night of the quarter moon. That could be lunar fixation for you. And this one's particularly troubling, you know why? Because we've got two quarters and a full and a new. So that's four potential strike windows -"
"What's that?" Wynton Kresge asked the question that Corde had been about to.
Ribbon said patiently, "That's the entire period when our man's likely to kill again. In this case I'd say it's from thirty-six hours in front of the full moon till thirty-six hours after."
Corde and Ebbans, who'd worked together on investigations for four years, got to play the eye-rolling game.
"Ah," Kresge said, and wrote.
Corde and Ebbans played the game again.
"Well, that's my two cents. I'll let you boys be. Do me proud and go catch this sickle." Ribbon left the room.
Corde took center stage. He searched for something politic to say. "All right, I suppose we might be looking at the possibility of a serial killing here but I wouldn't go spreading that around. We don't want to give anybody any ideas." Slocum seemed about to speak but remained silent and Corde continued, "Now I'm going to give us ten days to get a suspect under. And I want an ID within two or three." From his St Louis days Corde remembered the forty-eight/four rule in homicide investigations: If you don't identify the perp within forty-eight hours of a killing, the odds are it will take at least four weeks to find him.
"Also," Slocum said, "the full moon's coming up in seven days or so." He was scanning a Farmer's Almanac.
Corde said delicately, "I think Steve's got a good point. We've got to be aware of this moon business but we don't want to drop other leads because of it. It'll be something to consider, is all." Corde opened the envelope Kresge had brought and pulled out several sheets. "Wynton here was good enough to bring us some dope on the victim and I want to go over it now."
Corde also opened an envelope of his own. He shook out the glossy photograph of Jennie Gebben on the volleyball court. It showed clear eyes, a competitive smile, patches of sweat soaking her T-shirt, more throat than a girl that age would want. He noticed in the photo two metal hoops in each ear. When had the third hold been added? he wondered.
Corde handed the photo around. Miller glanced quickly then passed it on.
"No," Corde said solemnly. "Take a good look. Remember what she looked like."
Miller was flustered for a moment then did what he'd been told.
When the picture had made the rounds Corde said, "I flew over to see her father this morning and he wasn't much help. There were no diaries or letters I could find but he's going to keep looking. He says he doesn't know of anybody who might've wanted to hurt her but I put the bug in his ear and he might not know it but he's going to be looking at people at the funeral, who's there and who isn't. Maybe he'll remember a boyfriend or somebody who had a grudge against her."
Kresge said, "That's why you went this soon to see him? I was wondering why you did that."
"You were?" Corde asked absently. He turned to the files that Kresge had brought. "Jennie Gebben was twenty. She was a junior at Auden. No loans or scholarships, so I guess Daddy paid for most of it. She was an English lit major. GPA two point nine seven. Say, I'd like you to take notes on this." Slocum and Miller picked up pens. Corde continued, Treasurer of the Folklore Club. Meals on Wheels volunteer once a week early in the semester but she gave that up after a couple months. Worked three days a week in the office of the dean of financial aid.
"Her classes this semester were French Reading III. Her professor was Dominique LeFevre. The Civil War to the Centennial taught by Randolph Sayles. Contemporary Literary Criticism, by Elaine Adler-Blum. Chaucer, by Robert… Ostopowiscz. Well, that's a mouthful. And here's another one: The Relation Between Psychology and Literature: The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries. Her teacher there, I mean, her professor was Leon Gilchrist. And a seminar group of that same class taught by Brian Okun. Finally The Roots of Naturalism, Charles Gorney."
Corde wondered momentarily what the courses were about. Corde had graduated in the top half of his class because his school had plenty of engineering courses. He shuffled through the file Kresge had brought him then stapled the class roster sheets together. He set them aside.
Kresge said, "Excuse me."
Corde glanced up. "Yes?"
"Just wanted to tell you, I checked with the clinic. She wasn't seeing a therapist and had only one visit this year. It was to get antibiotics for bronchitis."
"No therapist," Corde repeated. The fact was recorded neatly on a three-by-five card. He did not notice Slocum and Miller play a round of eye rolling.
"Also," the security chief added, "Personnel has a policy of never hiring ex-felons. So if there are any on staff they lied about it on their résumés."
Ebbans asked, "Was she ever up before the UDB?"
University Disciplinary Board. Kresge said she wasn't.
"Now," Corde said, jotting down these facts, "as for the murder: At around ten o'clock on Tuesday night she was raped and strangled, possibly by someone she knew."
"How could you tell that?" Kresge asked and Corde glanced at him with irritation.
"Look -" Corde began.
Ebbans answered Kresge. "Because she didn't run and because he got close enough to subdue her before she fought back."
"How do you know that?"
"If she'd fought there'd be tissue under her nails."
"Kleenex?"
Slocum laughed. Ebbans said, "Skin. The man's skin."
"Oh." Kresge added, "But then if she knew him, he probably wasn't a, you know, cult killer."
Slocum lectured, "Not so, Chief. A good percentage of sacrifice killers know their victims."
"Oh. I didn't know that."
The meeting was meandering away from Corde. He said emphatically, "We have a lot of unknowns here. Maybe robbery wasn't a motive. But maybe it was. Maybe he got scared before he could take her valuables."
Slocum laughed. "Bill, she had a diamond necklace. When he was through doing it to her he could've snatched it, just like that." He illustrated ripping a chain off his own neck. "Wouldn't take more than two seconds."