‘Terrific. Our boy’s getting creative.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought, so I get all excited, thinking maybe we get some DNA, a bite mark we can match, like that, and then Anant tells me he thinks the vic bit himself.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah. Guy’s got himself a serious overbite with some crooked canines. Match looks pretty good.’
‘You want to tell me why the vic would bite himself?’
‘Hey, it’s late, I’m tired, and I don’t want to go there. Rambachan will put it together. He always does.’
Magozzi looked over his partner’s shoulder and saw the medical examiner’s tall, lanky, unmistakable figure pacing the exterior deck of the ferry, his open coat flapping behind him, head bent in a search for clues Magozzi could only guess at. When he caught his eye, he waved him over. Rambachan lifted one finger and went back to pacing, and Magozzi returned his attention to Gino. ‘How are the interviews going?’
Gino snorted, scuffing at the frosty asphalt with his Sorels. ‘Slow. They scattered like panicked deer when they saw the squads.’ He looked irritably at the flashing turret lights. ‘Can we shut these damn things off?’ he bellowed to no one in particular. ‘It took half an hour just to get a head count. Over three hundred guests. And every single one of them hates me.’
‘That’s a record for you, isn’t it? Alienating three hundred people in one night?’
‘You know what I had to do to those people? I mean they’re all dressed to kill and ready to party and celebrating this really happy event, you know? And I have to go around with a friggin’ Polaroid of a dead guy with a hole in his head just in case he might be their date or their father or whatever. Now you want to take a stab at the statistics? How many out of all those people do you think are going to puke when they have to look at a picture of a bloody corpse at a wedding reception?’
‘Jesus, Gino . . .’
‘Thirteen. Thirteen puked right on the spot. Goddamn boat smells like the drunk tank on Sunday morning. And the ones that didn’t puke got hysterical. We should have been passing out Valium in little paper cups. “Here, take your pill and look at the dead guy.” Man. I even felt sorry for the bride, and she was the one I really wanted to deck this afternoon. But she’s just a kid, you know? Sure, a murder at your wedding reception sounds Agatha Christie when you’re that age, but looking at the body is a whole different story. Here she is all decked out in white satin and lace with little pearl things in her hair and me, Mr Nice Guy, I make her look at a corpse on her wedding night. Christ, my stomach’s a mess. I was scared shitless he belonged to one of them, you know?’
Magozzi nodded. ‘But he didn’t.’
‘No. Nobody ever saw him before. So basically we’ve got nothing. No defensive wounds, no shell, no trace far as we can tell without labs. Just a guy in a suit with no wallet, just like in the game.’
‘Which means more hurry up and wait for a print match or a Missing Persons before we can ID the victim.’
‘Or maybe the ground search will turn up his wallet in a Dumpster, who knows?’
Magozzi shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for gloves that were on his front closet shelf. ‘We need time of death to place the Monkeewrench people.’
‘Between two and four is what we’ve got at this point. And I called the geek squad while you were on your way over, right after you called and told me they popped up from nowhere ten years ago. Now tell me that isn’t weird.’
‘It’s weird.’
‘Anyway, they all answered except MacBride, and get this: they all left work early, they all went home alone and stayed there. Not an alibi in the bunch that holds water, unless MacBride comes up with one when we track her down.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Zip is what I told them. Just asked where they were between two and four, and told them we wanted them at the house for formal statements. Ten A.M. tomorrow. Didn’t mention this little circus, but if any of them have a TV, that’s a moot point.’ Gino tipped his head at him. ‘And you know what, buddy? Unless we rubber-hose them all and one of them breaks down and confesses, we’re screwed. So far this guy is hitting once a day, and the next murder in the game is at you-know-where.’
Magozzi closed his eyes at the reminder. The fourth murder in the game was set at the Mall of America, and the logistics of covering a place that big were a cop’s nightmare, not to mention the shit that would come down if Minnesota’s number-one tourist attraction became a homicide crime scene. ‘I don’t know. My gut still tells me no. It isn’t one of the Monkeewrench crew.’
Gino took off a mitten bigger than a small dog and started digging through the many pockets of his parka. ‘Why? Just because they called us? It wouldn’t be the first time the criminal reported the crime. Psychos get off on that shit, you know. Or maybe it’s one of them trying to bring down the rest. They all know the game, and now you tell me they’ve got this no-past thing going. You ask me, there’s just too much strange stuff going on with that bunch.’
Magozzi followed the pocket treasure hunt with his eyes. ‘Sounds like you want it to be one of them.’
‘Hell, yes, I do. It’s either one of them or some anonymous player on that registration list, and last time I checked in with Louise, they’d only cleared about a hundred out of five hundred and some. She said it’s practically impossible; every time they hit a red flag that tells them to look a little closer – a bogus address, billing addresses that don’t match up with residential addresses, like that – their hands are tied. Our hands are tied. None of the Internet providers are giving up any subscriber information without a subpoena, and right now the only probable cause we’ve got is a hunch that our guy might be on that list. He could kill half the city before we get the legal thumbs-up to do that kind of privacy violation.’
‘Almost makes me pine for the days of J. Edgar.’
‘Damn right,’ Gino said dispiritedly.
Magozzi wiggled his toes inside his shoes, figured he could feel about half of them. ‘Monkeewrench could probably do it without subpoenas.’
Gino abandoned his pocket search and gaped at him. ‘Are you crazy?’
‘If they’ve got the know-how to erase themselves, they’ve got the know-how to get us what we need without subpoenas and never leave a trace. We’re out of time, Gino. We need information.’
‘Great. So we’ll bust the guy with inadmissible evidence and he’ll walk anyhow.’
‘If we get a real lead from their research, we won’t need the inadmissible evidence to bust him. We’ll find something else to nail him with.’
Gino grunted. ‘Maybe. But asking civilians? And possible doers no less, to help eliminate suspects in a multiple homicide? We might as well call a psychic.’
Magozzi shook his head. ‘I don’t see that we’ve got any choice. As it stands now, every potential lead is a legal dead end. The only possible way to find the source is to trace those dead ends back to where they came from. Monkeewrench can do that and we can’t. Even if we made Tommy break his sworn oath and several laws, he’s just one guy. The only guy in the department with a prayer of tracking who the anonymous players really are. It all takes too much time –’
‘And we haven’t got time, I know, I know.’ Gino stared at him for a long moment, then went back to digging in his pockets. ‘If one of the partners is the killer, he or she sure as hell isn’t going to help us out and trace themselves. We’d never know if we could trust their information or not. You think of that?’