Hangman (9 page)

“
The Scream,
” said Alex.

“By Edvard Munch,” said Gill.

“That’s not
The Scream
I know,” said Zinc.

“Munch did a lithograph and an oil. This is the lithograph,” Gill replied as she descended the ladder to join the others at ground level.

Zinc took the pouch from the exhibit man, reversing the mask to see the blood smeared around the mouth inside.

“This was on her face?”

“Yeah, when I arrived. One reason,” Rachel said, “why I called you. It’s like the mask Seattle police say the Hangman wore.”

“Who found the body?”

“A neighbor walking his dog. The front door was blown open by the storm. He called in, got no answer, and took a peek.”

“Looks like a sex crime.”

“I doubt it,” said Gill. “Unless the killer has a fetish for underwear. The victim soiled herself when she was hanged, caking her panties to her buttocks. If she was raped, why’s she wearing them?”

“The setup is definitely a puzzle,” Rachel said. “Got to be careful. Nothing is what it seems. The table is set for two with candles, roses, and wine. Romantic music. Sexy underwear. The inference is the victim invited a heartthrob here for dinner, and he or she was a monster who preyed on the hanged woman.”

“The Lady-Killer?” said Zinc.

“Possibly. That’s why I’ve got an APB out for him. And why”—she snapped a scowl at Gill—“I checked to make sure the hanged woman was Jayne Curry.”

“Has Twist been located?”

“Not yet,” Rachel said. “Though he’s the prime suspect, I think she dined alone.”

“Miss Lonely Heart?” said Alex. “Like in
Rear Window
, the Hitchcock film. Jimmy Stewart broke his leg and was confined to his apartment. To pass time, he spied on his neighbors through the rear window. He gave each a name based on what he saw. Miss Lonely Heart spent each night alone, pretending her lover joined her for dinner at a table set for two.”

Rachel nodded. “The same with Jayne Curry. That’s why she fell for the doctor, isn’t it?”

“What’s your theory?” Zinc asked.

“She was ambushed.”

“Having dinner?”

“No, sitting at the computer.”

The sergeant pointed to the glowing screen across the room.

“She was building a Web site about the trial, and whoever lynched her left it on. If it was Lady-Killer, why not delete her work?”

“Leaving it up makes it look like the killer wasn’t him.”

“Perhaps,” said Rachel.

“So what’s your take?”

“I think she dressed up in her finery for a Miss Lonely Heart dinner. Then she worked on her Web site at the computer. We found a recently cut branch outside that window, with two sets of indiscernible footprints in the mud. I think the killer bashed the limb against the glass to lure her out. She went upstairs to remove her expensive clothes. Her shoes are up on the landing and her dress is on the bed. With just a raincoat over her underwear, she disarmed the security system before she went outside. While she was cutting the branch with shears around the side of the house, the killer used the open door to slip in here. The victim returned and left her coat, boots, and the shears at the back door, where we found them wet with rain. She entered this room in her underwear, probably to reset the alarm, and was ambushed by the killer.”

Rachel directed Zinc back to the hanged woman. The other bunny suits at work were forensic techs. As one dusted the wine glasses on the table for fingerprints, the other measured the distance from the nearest leg stump to the pillar supporting the landing overhead. Secured around the pillar was the rope that had been looped up over the railing to lynch Jayne Curry.

“The killer hanged her, slashed her tongue, then put on the mask. Finally, after she was dead, her legs were cut off. The killer kicked them across the floor to the wall behind you, and then used the victim’s blood to scrawl that game.”

Zinc and Alex turned to face the wall between the entry hall and this room.

“That,” said the sergeant, “is the main reason I called you.”

A pair of legs sheathed in nylons lay against the baseboard.

On the wall above, scrawled in blood, was a hangman game:

E as in Enigma

Vancouver

November 7

Those who make murder their business seek refuge in gallows humor. Take the job
too
seriously and your retirement will be spent in a rubber room. The corpse still hung from the balcony as those investigating the murder took a welcome break. The coroner was telling a story. Gallows humor, for sure.

“I ran into the strangest suicide of my career in a bar. To make sure his method of self-destruction did him in, the fellow hit upon what he thought was a foolproof plan. First, he found a hanging tree with a stout branch jutting out over a sheer cliff plummeting down to the sea. Then, to ensure that he suffered no pain, the would-be suicide swallowed an overdose of liquid morphine. Finally, to keep from strangling to death if his neck failed to break, he loaded a revolver to shoot himself in the head.”

The coroner chortled to let them know the punch line was coming.

Scotch perfumed his words.

“The fellow tied one end of a rope to the jutting branch, then noosed the other end around his neck. The gun he carried as backup accidentally went off as he jumped over the cliff. The bullet struck the rope, almost severing it, then the jerk of his body snapped the remaining strands. Sixty feet below, he plunged into the sea, gulping salt water as he submerged. The gulp caused him to throw up the morphine, and, suicide thwarted, he swam ashore. That’s how I met him in the bar, guzzling a hot toddy to get warm.”

The listeners laughed as Zinc’s cell called him back to work. He moved away from the group to answer his phone.

“Chandler,” he said.

“Hi. It’s Maddy Thorne. You left an urgent message with Homicide for me to call?”

Traffic in the background. She was in a car.

“That was quick,” Zinc said.

“I’m off duty. But who’s off duty these days with pagers and cells?”

“Sorry,” said the Mountie. “Duty calls. Looks like we have a second Hangman victim here.”

“Where’s here?” Excited.

“North Vancouver. I’m staring at the victim as we speak.”

“What’s the link?”

“A
Scream
mask. And a hangman game.”

“Jesus!” Maddy said. “We guessed wrong.”

“Are you on a cell?”

“Yes.”

“Is it secure?”

“Maybe not to the CIA. But it’s digital.”

“That’s good enough,” Zinc replied. “You guessed right. An
A
’s filled in.”

“Which word?”

“Third word, second letter.”

“Son of a bitch! The bastard won’t play fair.”

“If it’s him. And not a copycat. How tight a lid did you put on the hangman game?”

“Strictly need-to-know. Hold-back evidence. You heard what I said to Justin. He could mention the game, but not the number of words or the number of letters in each. I doubt there’s been a leak. We’ve kept the puzzle on a tight rein.”

“So just the Hangman, Justin, and Seattle police know the content of the word game?”

“Yeah. Plus you.”

“I haven’t told anyone. It’s not my case. I didn’t even tell the woman I live with.”

“Looks like we have a cross-border serial killer,” Maddy said.

“Looks like,” agreed Zinc.

“The
A
doesn’t solve the puzzle, but it answers a question. We wondered what would happen if we guessed the letter right.”

“No quarter,” said the Mountie. “The killer killed again. And will keep killing, I suspect, until the puzzle is solved.”

Laughter broke out at his end of the phone as the coroner cracked a joke. A police siren passed Maddy at the other end.

“You mentioned a mask? Someone got a look at your killer?” she asked.

“No, the killer placed the mask over the victim’s face.”

“Why?” wondered Maddy.

“No reason I can see. Unless the Hangman
wants
us to link both hangings. Your APB last week said the Halloween killer might have worn a mask of
The Scream.
You get that from the neighbor who saw the Reaper approach Mary Konrad’s door?”

“Yeah,” said Maddy. “Remember what Justin told us? The neighbor described the mask as being like a skull face, but not a skull. It was, she said, the face in ‘that famous picture,’ which she couldn’t name. Later, she was shown
The Scream
and identified it as the suspect’s mask.”

“You know there’s more than one
Scream?
”

“I do,” said Maddy. “The oil painting. The lithograph. And a stylized version in the Wes Craven horror film.”

“Ours is the lithograph.”

“That’s what the neighbor picked out. If you send me a copy, I’ll double-check.”

Zinc took out his notebook and jotted a reminder to do that.

“How’s your case going?”

“It’s not,” said Maddy. “The task force working it has no solid leads. HITS did a computer search for possible links. Nothing came back. If a serial killer’s on the loose, the hangman game seems to indicate Halloween was the first murder. The only suspect with a specific motive is the vic’s husband.”

“What do you know about her?”

“Mary Konrad was a country girl from eastern Washington. A weak personality. No enemies. Left her first husband years ago to move to Seattle. Worked at office jobs. Still good-looking when she met and married Dag. Then, after the wedding, she got fat. You remember Dag? The world’s hairiest sexist. There’s a guy who needs a babe to show the world he’s a stud. Dag took to drinking and punching his wife as she ballooned up. An ugly divorce was under way when Mary got killed. The house in which she died was up for sale. Dag gets to keep
everything
now that Mary’s dead. He has a strong motive and a weak alibi. We have suspicion, but no proof.”

“Could Dag have done it?”

“To my mind,” Maddy replied. “The Reaper was seen approaching the house at five-thirty. No one answered when the neighbor knocked at six o’clock. The murder was called in around seven. We didn’t get to Dag’s apartment until after ten that night. His alibi is that between five and seven he was putting on his makeup. It took some time to do, what with all the Wolf Man hair, but no one backs up the time frame he offered us. What if he put on the makeup
earlier
that day, and covered it with the
Scream
mask and robes to go kill Mary? Halloween provided the perfect opportunity for him to approach her house in disguise, and to escape in costume after Mary was hanged.”

“Forensic turn up anything?”

“No, the scene was clean.”

“Sex attack?”

“Negative. Her clothes were on, as you saw, and swabs for semen didn’t analyze.”

“What about the rope?”

“As common as they come. So are the pulleys used to hoist her up and the hacksaw that cut off her leg. The cuffs used to pinion her wrists can be purchased in any bondage shop.”

“The killer must have gone prepared for that
specific
victim. Choose a woman not overweight and he wouldn’t need the pulleys.”

“That’s what makes me believe the Hangman is Dag,” replied Maddy. “He’s the only suspect with a specific motive. He slashed Mary’s tongue because his wife was a nag. The hanging and the severed leg are a blind, so that when we combine them with the hangman taunt, we’ll think a serial psycho is loose. What better way to hide a specific victim than in a random spree?”

“And victim two?” said Zinc.

“The Hangman could still be Dag. He knows he’s a prime suspect for his wife’s murder, so he goes after another woman far from home and does everything he can to link both crimes.”

“Dag needs checking.”

“That’s what I’m going to do.”

“Send me what’s relevant from your file and we’ll check on him up here.”

“You’ll have it tomorrow. Now what about your vic?”

“That case your partner Ralph was helping me with in Seattle?”

“You mean the juror who screwed Dr. Twist?”

“Right. The case we discussed the night you picked me up.”

“Don’t tell me!”

“Uh-huh. She’s the victim.”

“I’m all ears,” Maddy said. “Fill me in.”

“Jayne Curry. Fiftyish. Unmarried. Lives alone. A ‘lonely heart’ type. She was working in her home when the Hangman lured her out. He slipped inside and waited for her to return. The noose was cinched around her neck in a surprise attack, then she was hoisted off her feet before she could react. No pulleys, just the rope looped up over a railing. No cuffs, so her arms were free to flail. Her tongue, as in your case, was severed with a blade, and after death both legs were cut off. They, too, were kicked across to the wall on which we found a hangman game drawn in blood.”

“Both stick legs missing?”

“Yes. Hangman played in reverse.”

“How big’s the vic?”

“Petite,” said Zinc.

“No need for pulleys. Sex attack?”

“The victim’s dressed in underwear, but that can be explained. Her outerwear got soaked when the Hangman lured her out into the rain. The pathologist doubts her panties were removed.”

“Find a hacksaw?”

“Not so far. We do have indistinct footprints outside.”

“Good. We can compare the size of the prints with Dag’s shoes.”

“The Hangman placed the
Scream
mask over the face of the victim, then, as in your case, left the front door open in a storm so she’d be found.”

“Is Dr. Twist a suspect?”

“Big time,” said Zinc.

The professional bunny suits were getting back to work. Alex, notebook in hand, wandered over to rejoin Zinc by the hall door. A path fit for contamination, cleared by Ident forensically and safe to walk through, was marked on the floor. As Zinc talked with Maddy, Alex scribbled notes.

“Remember what I told you about our cause célèbre? Twist was charged with drugging a rich patient at his medical clinic, shortly after she bequeathed her entire estate to him. The allegation was he did the old lady in with a shot of potassium.”

“There was a recent piece in the
Seattle Star.
”

“Much of what we’re about to discuss hasn’t been released. Can I rely on you to keep it secret?” asked Zinc.

“My lips are sealed,” said Maddy. “As yours were with our case.”

“The doctor’s a lady-killer. He’s catnip to lonely women. Twist is handsome, charming, and funny. To visualize him, think of Cary Grant. We know at least two other widows died shortly after leaving him their money. Until that case, we didn’t have enough to charge him.”

“The case on which he walked?”

“Yes,” said Zinc. “The main witness for the Crown was a nurse Twist fired from his clinic. She testified that a needle mark the pathologist spotted on the body was made by a mysterious injection the doctor gave the deceased at midnight. The nurse chanced upon the event, which she wasn’t supposed to see. After she reported to us what she had witnessed, investigators searched records at the clinic. There was no mention of the midnight injection, and no drug had been dispensed from the clinic pharmacy for that patient.”

“Why potassium?” Maddy asked.

“It slips through detection at an autopsy because it’s found naturally in a human body.”

“So it all came down to the nurse?”

“Whom Twist had fired.”

“A motive for revenge.”

“The doctor took the stand in his own defense. He said he fired the nurse because he disagreed with her strong stance on euthanasia. He couldn’t have her working in his geriatric clinic. The clinic would be liable if she killed a patient.”

“The firing was
after
she saw him give the injection?”

“Yes,” said Zinc.

“You think he knew the nurse saw him?”

“Probably.”

“So he set her up with a motive for injecting the old woman in case she ratted on him?”

“He’s clever, Maddy. That’s why we haven’t been able to pin a conviction on him. Jayne Curry was on the jury trying the doctor for murder. Sheriffs began to notice something was amiss in court. It began with flirtatious glances between Curry and Twist. Seductive smiles from her. An eyebrow arched from him. Jurors filed into the courtroom in the same order each time. A dramatic pause occurred in the procession before Curry entered, then she would step into the jury box and lock eyes with Twist. The looks became more blatant as the trial continued, and they took on a hint of sexual conspiracy. The sheriffs brought it to the attention of the judge when Twist was seen talking with Curry at lunch on the steps near the law courts fountain.”

“Was there a mistrial?”

“No,” said Zinc. “In the jury’s absence, the judge warned Twist not to have contact with any jurors. But to avoid disrupting the jury, the judge didn’t raise the matter with them.”

“Strange,” said Maddy.

“Twist’s a lady-killer. The judge was a woman. He charmed her too.”

Horns at the other end. Traffic was heavy.

“The jury was out for days before it brought in a verdict acquitting the doctor of first-degree murder. That night, an off-duty cop spotted Twist and Curry walking arm in arm. We began surveillance of both of them, and obtained a court order to bug their homes. Two days later, the mike in her bedroom recorded them having sex. From conversation afterward, it could be inferred that they had done it before, and that they became lovers
during
the trial.”

Maddy tsk-tsked. “Bedding a guy you’re trying for murder comes with a lot of baggage.”

“What’s even more important is Twist’s story about the nurse. What he told Curry in bed—and probably had during the trial—was that his relationship with her was like
Fatal Attraction.
The nurse went weird on him after a one-night stand, and when he tried to break it off, she flipped out completely. It was the nurse who must have stuck the needle in the deceased, the night before the day Twist fired her. For revenge, she went to the police and framed him for murder.”

“Was that his evidence in court?”

“No,” said Zinc. “Not a word about having sex with the nurse. The reason he gave Curry was that it would make him look guilty. The Crown alleged he was a lady-killer who used his charm on women, so how could he tell the jury he slept with an employee, then fired her when she fell for him?”