"'See no pattern, see no pattern.'" Spiro tasted the words as if trying a suspect wine. He paced slowly, studying the chart.
Ercole gulped once more and looked to Rossi, who tossed an amused glance toward both men.
"What do you do with the fact, Forestry Officer--"
"Benelli."
"--that the kidnapper's car was parked by the desolate roadside and the kidnapper was waiting in the bushes? Does that not suggest design?"
"It's not clear when the kidnapper arrived. It might have been before or after the victim did. I would suggest, at best, there's a design to kidnap a victim, but not necessarily this victim. So, pattern? I'm not sure I see one."
Spiro glanced at his watch, a large gold model. Ercole could not detect the brand. He said to Rossi, "I have a meeting upstairs, with another inspector. Let me know about any videos. Oh, and Forestry Officer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Your name is Ercole, right?"
"It is."
At last, he recognizes me. And he is going to concede my observation about patterns. Ercole felt victorious.
"From mythology."
His name was the Italian version of "Hercules," the Roman god.
"My father enjoyed ancient lore and--"
"You are familiar with the twelve labors that Hercules was required to complete?"
"Yes, yes!" Ercole laughed. "As an act of penance, in the service of King Eurystheus."
"You're falling behind in yours."
"My..."
"Your labors."
Silence.
Looking away from the man's fierce eyes, Ercole said, "I'm sorry, sir?"
Spiro pointed. "You missed some water there. You wouldn't want it to seep under the tile, now, would you? The gods would not be pleased."
Ercole glanced down. Tight-lipped for a moment, and furious that he could not control the reddening of his face. "I will get right to it, sir."
As Spiro left, Ercole dropped to his knees. He happened to glance up and see just outside the doorway Rossi's protege Silvio De Carlo, looking in. The handsome officer would have witnessed the entire dressing-down--and the order to complete mopping, the implication being that Ercole was not even a competent janitor, let alone investigator. His face a blank mask, De Carlo moved on.
Ercole said to Rossi, "What have I done, Inspector? I was merely stating what seemed logical from the facts. I could see no pattern. A crime in New York, a crime in the hills of Campania."
"Ah, you committed the crime of blinders."
"Blinders. What is that?"
"It's a subtle psychological condition that inexperienced investigators fall victim to. You had already--on the basis of very preliminary evidence--reached the conclusion that this was a random crime. But by embracing that theory you will be disinclined to expand your investigative horizons and consider that the Composer might have acted out of design to target these particular people and that we can discover a pattern to his acts that will help us apprehend him.
"Is it possible to see a pattern at this point? Of course not. Does Prosecutor Spiro think it likely? Of course not. But there is no one I know with a mind that is more expansive than his. He will take in all the facts, making no judgment, long after others have drawn conclusions. Often, he is right and the
others are not."