Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best ereader for academics .txt) 📕

Five

We didn’t talk again until we were in the kitchen. It was too cold for beer, so we each had a tumbler of Irish whiskey. I was peeling potatoes and she was slicing eggplant and laying the slices in a colander, sprinkled with coarse salt. Then she said, quietly but suddenly:

“You’ve made up your mind that it’s Cyril.”

“I never make up my mind, Dehan, you know that. That is what evidence and proof are for. I just think he is our most likely candidate.”

She raised a withering eyebrow at a slice of eggplant and dropped it in the colander. “You said, and I quote: ‘He kills like a serial killer.’”

“You asked me if I have made up my mind. I haven’t.”

I started slicing the potatoes into nice, thick rounds and she started dicing carrots.

“All right, you want to explain to me what you mean by, ‘he behaves like a killer with a motive, but he kills like a serial killer,’? Or am I not smart enough to be allowed into the sanctum sanctorum of the great Sensei’s mind?”

“Stop it. You are more than smart enough and you know it. I am just not sure of my own thoughts right now. You know what the English call these?” I held up a round of potato.

She looked at it. “Potatoes?”

I shook my head. “Chips, and you have one on your shoulder. Get over it.”

“Funny. Explain. And while you’re explaining, get the lamb from the fridge.”

I got the lamb from the fridge, then rested my ass against the side and sipped my whiskey while she put olive oil, garlic and herbs into a big, cast iron pan.

“OK,” I said. “The introverted, socially inadequate loner is a recurring profile among serial killers. The handing in of his notice, both at work and to his landlord, suggests careful planning, as does the killing on a notable date that is associated with death. His presence at the party is surprising, as we know that he does not like interacting with people. The same goes for his presence at the painting group. Both suggest the possibility of a predator seeking a prey.”

I sipped. She fried. The smell of olive oil, thyme and oregano was rich on the air. I inhaled, then went on.

“The killing itself bears some hallmarks of a serial killing. It is both sexual and homicidal. We know that he had a knife because he stabbed her post mortem, but there are no signs that he used the knife to terrorize her into submission. There are no cuts on her throat, and he used both hands to choke her while he was raping her. It is only after she is dead that he goes into his frenzy of stabbing. It feels methodical, almost ritualistic; like an organized serial killer getting his victim to the point where he can safely release his rage without fear of a comeback.”

I sipped again.

“And finally, there is the bold, brazen leaving of his DNA and fingerprints at the scene, like a challenge to the cops: ‘I can do all this and you are still not smart enough to catch me.’ So much preparation, and yet no gloves and no condom. It’s as though he wanted—or needed—to leave his mark there. It’s primal, like a lion spraying to mark his territory.”

I sighed. “And yet, typically, a serial killer has a territory. If he lives and works in a fixed location, he will kill nearby, within a few hours drive, perhaps in neighboring towns.

“Alternatively, if he has a job that involves driving distances, like Adam Leroy Lane, he might kill all across the country—or the continent—like Jesperson. But what you don’t get is a serial killer giving up his house and his job to move on every time he kills a victim. Either they travel or they hunt locally. They don’t do both.”

She shrugged and frowned, like to her it was obvious. “So our guy is not a serial killer.”

“Sure, I think you’re right. But, he kills like a serial killer. Which means his motivation is similar to a serial killer’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.” I walked slowly across the kitchen and leaned against the fridge, watching her as she spooned the browned meat, onions and garlic into a deep, blue, cast iron dish, then began to lay rounds of eggplant over the top. “I’m just thinking aloud here, but a serial killer is driven by a deep, unconscious need to kill, which builds periodically and overpowers him. Usually, almost always, he is driven to kill a particular type of person. That type of person is like a symbol of what he is raging against. But what drives him is that rage, the need to kill.”

“OK.”

“So, what if we have a person who has all the pain and hurt inside him that could lead to rage, but instead it leads him to hide away from people and become a loner, protecting himself from the hurt that people can cause him. Now let’s say he meets somebody who takes a liking to him, somebody who encourages him to break out and interact with people…”

She froze, then turned to look at me, holding a potato round in her fingers. “Fernando.”

“Cyril worked at the library. Fernando lives right next door. He stressed that he liked him and invited him to the party. Now, I am speculating like crazy here, Dehan, but just suppose that, having allowed himself to be lured out of his safety zone, he encounters the trigger that turns his pain into rage…”

“Fernando telling Sue to sit on his lap and give him a kiss. He described her as a prick tease and said that that made Giorgio mad. Did she flirt with Cyril on