The Poisonous Ten (18 page)

“Agreed,” Parks said, standing up. “And so far one of the best ones we’ve gotten. We may be reading more into this particular type of poison, but it’s a start. See if there’s any connection between the flower and each of the poisons that’s been used so far.” Parks looked to Jackie when he said this. “Then see if there’s any reason behind these particular po
isons being used, period. Maybe someone famous used them in a speech. Maybe some report out there done sometime in the past named all of these poisons for some reason. Check it all.”

Jackie nodded, as did most of the others sitting at the t
able.

“He’s punishing these people,” Parks said out of n
owhere, staring at the murder board.

“What’s that?”

“These deaths. These murders. They’re painful. There’s definitely a reason they’re being chosen and killed with the poisons they’re being affected with. They’re being punished.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Take Kyle Oni. When was his death?”

“Tanaka hasn’t given us an official time yet, but she thinks early this morning,” Jackie said. “Between five and nine am.”

“I think it’s closer to nine.”

“Why’s that?”

“Think about it,” Parks said. “How did we even find out about Kyle Oni?”

“Because of the phone call,” Fairmont shot out.

“And when did that come in?”

Several people began looking through the files in front of them.

“Seven after nine,” Parks answered without needing to look. “The killer called saying he’d killed again. The call came from the room where Kyle Oni was staying. He was still there at nine. I don’t think he would have called if Oni was still alive for fear of the chance that we could possibly save him. Or get any information from him. So Oni was one hundred percent dead when the killer placed that call. And I don’t think he would have stayed around too long after he died. Chances are he died close to nine.”

“Why not?” Moore asked.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t the killer have stayed around the death scene a while after the time of death? Some killers like to stay around and be with their victims after they’re dead.”

“Agreed. But not this guy. He’s not in it for the thrill like a strangler or rapist going for the power. He’s sending a message. He’s doing what he feels he has to do and nothing more. Besides that, like I said, with the passionflower it could take anywhere between fifteen minutes to an hour before the symptoms began to show. Then there’s still the time between that and the actual death. Our killer already spent plenty enough time with our victim. It’s the process they go through that turns him on, not the end result. Death is simply a side effect. What gets him off is watching them suffer. Pay for their sins, so to speak.”

“So you’re sticking with that theory?” Hardwick asked.

“We don’t know for sure. And any direction is possible. But personally, I would say yes. This is painful, what he’s doing. Tortuous. He wants his victims to suffer. And they are. I feel he’s delivering a message. I don’t know what that is just yet, but I’d say that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s punishing these people. There is a connection somewhere.”

“What do any of the items he’s leaving around the crime scenes have to do with that so-called message?” Hardwick asked. “The honey, the bread, the wine and grapes. The three-one-three written in the lipstick? The photograph?”

“Tippin? You find something for me yet?” Parks asked.

“I think I may have,” Tippin said, looking up from his computer.

“Go on,” Hardwick ordered.

“You’re right. Honey. Bread. Three-one-three. The grapes and wine. Individually, they mean nothing. Together, they mean nothing. But then Parks suggested I look at each of the items individually, and in association with poison.”

“And?” Parks asked. “What did you find?”

“Quotes. Like famous quotes. I think that’s all they are.”

“Explain,” Hardwick said.

“Let’s go in order. Take the honey at the Tisdale scene. ‘Deadly poisons are concealed under sweet honey.’”

“That’s a famous quote?” Parks asked.

“By a guy named Publius Ovidius Naso Ovid. Yes.”

“What was it again?”

“‘Deadly poisons are concealed under sweet honey.’”

“I want a copy of that printed and put up on the board next to Allison’s information. All right. Next? Three-one-three?”

“Three-one-three, I think, is actually in reference to a B
ible verse.”

“Son of a bitch,” Wilkes cursed.

“Which one?” Parks asked.

“Romans. Chapter three, verse thirteen. ‘Their throats are open graves; their tongues practice deceit. The poison of v
ipers is on their lips.’”

“He was killed by a poisonous snake,” Fairmont offered.

Parks nodded at Tippin for him to continue.

“Okay. Bollinger. The bread. Particularly the bread in the sink,” Tippin began. “‘People who treat other people as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned.’ That was by James Baldwin.”

“Print it up too,” Parks said nodding toward the murder board. “And last? The wine?”

“‘Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape crush’d the sweet poison of misused wine.’”

“Milton,” Parks said.

“Yes,” Tippin confirmed. “So that’s it. At least that’s what I think.”

“Strong possibility,” Parks said. “Something more than nothing. Thanks. Good work, Tippin. What does it mean, though? Something . . . or nothing? We should look into the meaning of the chosen quotes. Maybe there is a reason each one was picked. I mean, the first and last one have no special meanings besides describing the way in which the victims were killed. But the second one focuses on lies and deceit and the third one on being mean to others. Maybe our killer felt those two were liars and abusive, respectively. Something to check. But again, why? Just another way the killer leaves his mark on the scene? Possibly. Though I’m not sure why yet. Maybe he’s a former teacher or professor of literature or something. Another angle to check. There’s got to be a reason why he’s doing this. Fairmont?”

“On it,” Fairmont said.

“What about the photograph?” Wilkes asked.

“We don’t know who these two girls in the picture are or what their connection to these murders is. Not sure how old this photo is either, but we’ll have CSA look over it,” Parks said.

“We don’t have anything on it?” Wilkes asked. “You just spent the last six months in and out of schools, looking for Kozlov. Anything about these girls correlate anything you can remember from any of the schools? One of them is in a cheerleading uniform. We can’t see a name or mascot, but look at the colors on the top of her uniform. Red, gold, and black. Familiar at all?”

Tippin raised his hand to speak, but Parks cut him off.

“I spent the last six months looking for a man attacking elementary school-aged kids,” Parks explained. “These two girls are at least in high school. I’m not familiar with which one they come from.”

“Fairfax High on Melrose,” Tippin interjected, not even bothering with raising his hand this time.

“Say again?” Wilkes barked back.

“Those colors? They’re Fairfax High’s colors. Crimson, gold, and black.”

Wilkes opened his mouth to challenge the kid, but considering Tippin looked as if he had come from high school only a few months before, chances were he knew what he was talking about.

“Then Fairfax it is.” Wilkes smiled slyly. “Have your kid and Hayward work on it. Hayward’s my best man when it comes to computers. Bet they can get online and look through past yearbook photos or something.”

Parks looked to Tippin, who rolled his eyes but nodded, then looked to Hayward, who appeared amenable to the task.  

“Good. As for Oni, we do the usual,” Parks said. “Inte
rview the next of kin. Family. Friends. Find the girlfriend and boyfriend, if he had both. Get them all in here. See if they noticed anything out of the ordinary recently. Maybe someone somewhere saw something. Same goes for the paparazzi. We question them as well. They’ll be more difficult, as they’re basically considered right there next to cockroaches in this town, but we have to just the same. Get what we can out of them. Any way we can. I don’t want to find out the identity of our killer because some sleazy paparazzi sold his photos to the highest bidder. Everyone with me?” There were murmurs and nodding but nothing more. “Actually, Wilkes, I know we just talked about your men going over this case from the beginning, but if you could have your team work on the paparazzi, that would be helpful.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Wilkes grunted.

Parks could tell by the man’s sagging shoulders and deep breathing how he felt about the extra workload they had just been given, but with Hardwick in the room there wasn’t anything he could say about it. Most likely Wilkes would retaliate at some time later, when Hardwick wasn’t around. Parks didn’t exactly like that idea, but as it was, his team was spread thin and everyone was worn out. He’d just have to see where the chips fell and deal with what was what from there. What he failed to realize was that Wilkes was actually charged for the first time since being assigned this case. He felt they had a solid lead to work on and he liked progress. Especially if it made him look good.     

“All right, everybody. Let’s get to work,” Parks said, dismissing the table.

“Parks,” Hardwick called out.

“Yes?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but in light of keeping outside resources out of this mess as long as possible, I’ve asked for Dr. Black to take a look at the murder book and give us some insight as to who we should be looking at. Profile-wise, I mean.”

Parks was surprised it had taken this long for Hardwick to involve the department shrink, considering he was the clo
sest thing they had to a forensic profiler to help out with cases. As it was, Dr. Black was mostly around to make sure everyone in the department was stable enough to handle a gun, but perhaps he could contribute something useful. 

“I’ll make sure he gets a copy of the murder book,” Parks said, smiling in agreement.

“He already has one,” Hardwick said, turning from her lead detective. “He’ll be down in an hour to go over his notes with you.”

23

“He’s showing off,” Dr. Black said as he stood in front of the murder board, staring up at the physical evidence that was taped and tacked all over the white board. Dr. Lucas Black had been with the department for over a decade now, though physically he looked to be no older than his late thi
rties or early forties. He had wild, shaggy hair that gave him an earthy, inviting touch while also having the feel of professionalism. The glasses he was prescribed only added to his attractiveness, enlarging his already round, owl-like, hazel eyes.

“He’s saying, ‘Look how good I am. You want to catch me? Then you better be better than me. Otherwise, you don’t deserve to catch me.’ He’s making a statement. Making hi
mself feel better about what he’s doing so that if he’s ever caught he can say, ‘Look how good I was. It took a lot to catch me. I’m that good.’” Black had a gravely if not soothing quality to his voice that could either calm a person or drive them crazy, depending on whether they were a friend, co-worker or patient.

“This guy’s sick,” was all Parks could think to say.

“He’s made these murders into something of an art show for himself.”

“How so?”

“Look,” Black said, pointing to the various photos of the five murder scenes plastered up on the murder boards. “Take the first one. Allison Tisdale.”

“Yes.”

“All alone. In a solid-white room. The only other color in here is the purple flowers and the circle of the victim’s blood. That’s serious. This is a work of art. I bet you anything, both her blood and the flowers mean something.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everything else in the room blends together. Blur your vision and look at this photo. The only thing you see is the bouquet of flowers in the center of a circle. That’s not by accident. This guy did that on purpose. Those flowers mean something. Everything he leaves behind, everything he takes with him, what he touches, what he does in this room, everything has one thing in common: our killer and the crime he committed. They all lead back to him. Why? To the killer himself, everything about this room serves a purpose. Why he chose this place. This room in the house. This victim. The dress she was found in. Why she was dressed as opposed to found nude. The flowers. Her hair. The scent of her. The poison he used to kill her. The chair she’s in. The pills found in her pockets. Everything. It’s all part of the reason he killed this victim the way he did and it all leads back to him.”

Parks made a note of this on his notepad. “And victim two?”

“This guy’s different,” Black continued, referring to Ian Harris. “He’s not posed. This crime scene is different. It’s messy. Chaotic. Painful. Bloody. Look at all that blood. I take it whatever he was poisoned with focused on the eyes mostly?”

“Yes.”

“That was done on purpose too. Maybe the victim saw something he shouldn’t have.”

“We’ve considered that. He spied on the neighbors across the courtyard. The wife mostly. But the wife’s husband was victim number three. Killed earlier the same day.”

“I would almost say Ian Harris was an accident,” Black said. “He witnessed the third murder, which was actually the second murder chronologically, and therefore he was taken out.”

“Couldn’t be,” Parks argued. “He had to be planned too. The way he was poisoned took time and premeditation. He was mailed a bottle of vodka that was mixed with methanol and then someone hand-delivered a package that contained a poisonous snake. This killing wasn’t some last-minute break-in or jealous rage of passion. No one suddenly decided to stab him with a needle full of poison.” Parks thought about this. “Maybe the killer knew Harris spied on the wife, and so he knew there was a chance he might be seen killing the husband?”

“So then why such a mess?” Black asked mostly to himself. “Why not staged and posed like Allison Tisdale and Jason Bollinger? Unless the chaos of the crime scene is the way the killer wanted him posed. Look at Bollinger. He’s sitting alone in his kitchen, holding this fish. Is the fish what killed him?”

“Nope. More of a tease, beforehand, to the next murder. Like a link.”

“See, but Jason Bollinger is posed again like Allison Tisdale. Holding that fish in his hands. He’s showing off. Why did he change for Ian Harris? Why not move the body like the others? Why not have him sitting up for all to see when they first entered his loft? Why leave him slumped over, face down, in a puddle of his own blood? Was he not as worthy as the other victims? What’s the difference between him and the others?”

“Maybe the killer was interrupted? Or ran out of time?”

“I’d check with everyone in his building.”

“We have.”

“Do it again. Someone knows something they’re not saying. There’s a reason the killer didn’t mess with Ian Harris’s body. Then again, you found him before Jason Bollinger, even though they were killed in reverse order. Was the order in which they were killed and the order in which they were discovered switched on purpose? I’d say most likely. Our guy knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t take anything for granted. Everything he’s done so far has been according to plan. Make no mistake about that.”

“Maybe there was a more personal reason for Harris?”

“Possibly, but you and I both know that the killer’s not touching or moving Harris’s body actually makes his murder seem less personal,” Dr. Black said. “Then victim four. Charles Wyler. Everyone watching TV saw that attack. That was public.”

“But Wyler’s murder wasn’t staged.”

“Not like one and three, with the bodies posed in death, but still staged. Theatrical. The killer lured Wyler to that location on purpose.”

“Giving purpose to the fish. If we would have seen the fish earlier we could have saved him. Wyler was on the air for over ten minutes before the attack. If we would have seen it right away we could have saved him. Maybe.”

“He gave you the opportunity to do that. But with the poison that was used on Wyler, was there really any chance of saving him?”

Parks thought about this. “Most likely not. He was a
lready being poisoned for a few days through his water supply.”

“And the killer knew that. He wasn’t calling you there to see if you were good enough to save him. He called you there to throw it in your face. He’s saying, ‘It doesn’t matter how close you get to me, there’s nothing you can do to save these people. I’ve already chosen them all, and there’s not
hing you can do to stop me. I’m on a mission, and I’ll finish when I choose to. Be in awe.’”

“Dammit.”

“And five?”

“Kyle Oni.”

Dr. Black focused on Kyle Oni’s crime scene photos on the murder board.

“This goes right back to Tisdale and Bollinger. Oni’s posed. And look at the flowers. It’s like victim one. And the vines coming off from the body are circular like the circle of blood from victim one. Were any of these people killed in their homes?”

“Just two and three. Harris and Bollinger.”

“Anyone else live with those two victims?”

“Just Bollinger. The one whose wife was spied on.”

“Has she seen these photos?”

“No. We’ve taken her back to the crime scene and she said nothing was out of place.”

“Show her these,” Dr. Black insisted. “It’s harsh but n
ecessary. Something’s been moved. Posed. Just like the victim. Most likely it was moved between the time the body was discovered, when these photos were taken, the time when the room was cleaned up for the wife’s return. I’m telling you, I know it will be hard, but show her these. There has to be something there. The first and fifth crime scenes are too well cleaned up and posed. They’re perfect. He had to have done the same for this one as well. Only two and four were chaotic, messy. But possibly that was done on purpose. Perhaps he didn’t like victims two or four. He had no respect for them. It was as if they had to be killed instead of him wanting to kill them.” Dr. Black paused and perused his notes some more. “There’s a reason he’s killing all of these people. He’s trying to fulfill a fantasy that one victim hasn’t satisfied. As I suggested, he’s probably sending a message. If so, then us not knowing what it is based off the first few victims, will only fuel him to keep killing. And he’ll keep doing so until you figure out what he’s trying to say. There’s a purpose to all of this.” Dr. Black paused again, this time lost in thought. “Of course, it could be that it’s not about a message at all. Maybe he’s trying to exercise a demon of his own, and by taking the first life he had hoped to take care of that problem. It didn’t work.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because he’s still killing. If the first victim had solved his problem, then you wouldn’t have more victims beyond her.”

Dr. Black stood silent and composed, staring at the board. He turned back to the murder book and flipped through se
veral pages before looking back to the board.

“What’s the date of the first murder?”

“August thirty-first. It was a Wednesday.”

“And the second?”

“Victims two and three were killed on Labor Day. September fifth. Monday. Then Charles was on Saturday the tenth. And Kyle Oni just today. Seemed like there was a clump of them then he took a break before getting to Oni.”

“Two and three were on the same day. Only you didn’t
find Jason Bollinger’s body until two days later on the seventh of September. So that changes things. If we take that into account, then there could be a pattern the killer uses to claim his victims. Maybe not. Maybe it’s all just a coincidence. But I think it means something.”

“What? What is it?” Parks asked as he noticed Wilkes walking into the room, drinking Coke from a can. He was one of the people in the department who never got along with the shrink, and he kept quiet, standing off in the corner.

“He’s killing people five days apart from each other. On the thirty-first you have Allison Tisdale. Five days later, on the fifth, you get Jason Bollinger and Ian Harris. Five days later, on the tenth, you have Charles Wyler. Five days later, Kyle Oni.”

“So then the next murder . . .”

“Tuesday,” Dr. Black said, finishing his thought. “You have until Tuesday to stop this guy from killing again.”  

“We make any progress?” Fairmont called out, walking into the conference room, unwrapping a piece of Nicorette.

“And what if he does kill on Tuesday and we don’t stop him?” Wilkes asked.

“Then your next deadline is the following Sunday, and then the Friday after that, which is the thirtieth,” Dr. Black answered bluntly.

Though it was late and the team had had a full day, everyone was more charged by the new developments than from all the caffeine they had been drinking. They had something. They could do it if they focused. This could be all over come Tuesday night. 

“Thanks, Doctor. You’ve been a help,” Parks said.

“No problem,” Dr. Black said, picking up the copy of the murder book. “This was just a quick assessment. If you want, I can keep reading and give you a more detailed analysis.”

“Anything you can do to help.” Parks said as Dr. Black left the room. “Anything at all.”

“I’ll type out my findings and have them to you by the end of the day.”