Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)

“As Olivia said, the Williamson girl was not a ‘bimbo.’ Maybe that’s why this man selected her as his next victim. He may be a customer at some bar she went to…”

“Halligan’s Pub,” Matt furnished.

“… or someone at work, at church. I was about to say car wash, grocery store, but I don’t think so. I think this man is intelligent, which would tend to eliminate minimum-wage people. For that matter, he may be from Podunk, South Dakota, just passing through… So, I have no idea where to look for him.”

“Has anyone thought to ask Special Victims if they have jobs like this?” Coughlin asked.

“I did,” Olivia said. “When Sergeant Payne and I were there printing the photographs. No, sir. They have had nothing like this.”

“Accepting for the moment,” Washington said, “the doctor’s premise that this is not the first time this fellow has done something like this, and I think she’s right, and Sex Crimes-”

“Special Victims, Jason,” Wohl interrupted.

“To be sure. Special Victims,” Washington said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, Inspector, for the correction. The proper terminology is now burned indelibly in my memory. May I proceed?”

“As long as you get the terminology right,” Wohl said, smiling, unabashed. “Correct terminology, as you have so often pointed out to me in the past, is very nearly as important as turning over the stone under the stone.”

&nbs

p; Coughlin chuckled. Hollaran, D’Amata, Slayberg, and Matt smiled.

“A serpent’s tooth causes no greater pain than an ungrateful child,” Washington said, solemnly. “Or a once barely adequate Homicide detective who, realizing his inadequacies, left Homicide for the far less challenging arena of supervision, and then mocks his mentor.”

“Commissioner,” Wohl said. “I think he’s talking about you.”

“I thought he was talking about Frank,” Coughlin said.

Now the suppressed laughter could not be contained.

“Is there no one at this table except for Olivia and myself over the mental age of fourteen?” Amy demanded angrily.

“Probably not, Doctor,” Washington said. “But I will nevertheless continue.”

He waited until everyone was looking at him.

“Despite serious doubts that any or all of you has the mental capacity to follow this reasoning, I submit the following possible scenario: In the presumption that this fellow (a) is everything Dr. Payne believes him to be and (b) has done something like this-possibly, probably, without fatal results-several times before, and inasmuch as we have no record of a similar modus operandi here… Were they positive about having nothing similar at Special Victims, Olivia?”

“Yes, sir.”

He called me by my first name.

“The reasonable inference may be drawn that the previous incidents were in another large city.”

“Why large city, Jason?” Coughlin asked.

“I have added to Amy’s hypothesis (a) he is intelligent and (b) he was probably not known to the victim; that he stalked, so to speak, Miss Williamson because she represented the type of nice young female he wished to humiliate. His pool of potential victims would obviously be in proportion to the population of a city-”

“And he would not be known in-could hide easier in-a large city not his hometown,” Wohl interjected.

“Perhaps you did learn something from your mentor after all, Peter,” Washington said. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Peter said. “Yes, I’d love another.”

He signaled to the bartender for another round of drinks.

“I will not rise to that,” Washington said. “You are not very bright, but you knew precisely what I meant.”

“I want somebody here to be sober enough,” Coughlin said, “to check the NCIC database tonight, and maybe to send wires to every large-”