“Are we going to excuse the killer on the basis of his traumatic childhood, Dr. Vladoc?”
“I do not offer an excuse but an explanation, a reason why.”
“His motivation.”
“His or hers, yes. It could well be a woman.”
“Let's order in some food and talk about this further, shall we? I want to hear all you have to say on the subject. But I would like Dr. Desinor to join us.”
“Coffee and a sandwich would be pleasant, yes, and as for your associate joining us, I have no objections.”
Jessica made the arrangements.
After Kim came in to join them, Vladoc began. “The behavior exhibited by the Poet Killer-I have seen milder examples of it in my practice over the years. It is normally at its height in late adolescence when years of belief in magic are called upon to compensate for a person's having been deprived of it-”
“Deprived of it?” interrupted Jessica.
“-prematurely in childhood. Fantasy, I mean.”
“Bruno Bettelheim,” said Kim.
“I believe Bettelheim was right about the importance of childhood fantasy.”
“You mean the importance of fantasy in understanding and coping with the world.”
“Yes,” replied Vladoc, who returned to his exposition. “All of your victims as well as the poisoner here, I strongly suspect, these are young people who now feel that it is their last chance to make up for a severe deficiency in their life experience. You see, without having had a period of belief in magic-as all healthy children do in interpreting the world-they are then unable to meet the rigors of adult reality.”
“Are you suggesting,” Jessica said, “that many young people today who seek escape in drugs and other addictions were deprived of childhood fantasies?”
“If not drugs, then they will apprentice themselves to some guru, go crazy over astrology, engage in black magic, rites, and rituals, or some other obsession,” Vladoc assured them.
Kim explained further, in obvious sync with Vladoc on the subject. “Such deprived people are engaging in escape from reality into daydreams about magical experiences which they believe will change their lives for the better; drugs are an avenue for such thinking, yes, but those prematurely pressed into an adult view of reality can only sustain themselves through magical thinking and doing.”
“So the cause is in the formative years,” said Vladoc, “when experiences prevented early development of skills that can only be mastered later in life, in realistic as opposed to mythical ways.”
“And this is how the Poet thinks?” Jessica asked.
“He is committing their souls over to the angels. What does that tell you about his worldview?” asked Vladoc, shaking his head. “And that of his victims?”
Jessica leaned back in her chair, the movement making the old wood groan. “You're sure of this, are you?”
“Quite. I'm good at reading between the lines. Each poem is about a chance encounter that ends in his cleansing them-body and soul-in preparation for their return to their true reality, a reality populated by only the pure. That is, in a nutshell, this killer's pathological mind-set.”
“What did Sturtevante think of your interpretation?” Jessica took a leap, guessing that Vladoc had already shared his findings with the lead investigator on the task force.
“She agreed with it, of course. I have studied such lunacy for well over a quarter century. She has confidence in my judgment. ”Words like angelic and pure did seem to apply to the victims, she thought. Vladoc stood, his head barely above hers, although she remained seated. With a Danny DeVito-like glint in his eye, he half smiled and said, “I hope this information helps to stop this poor, driven devil.”
“You're not sure he's… that the killer is male?”
“It is impossible to say from what I saw in the writing, but you have handwriting experts who might help there, right? Don't graphologists claim to know how to differentiate a woman's handwriting from a man's?”
“Our experts have not been able to determine gender on the basis of the handwriting, no.” Not even Wahlbore's program made that claim.
“Perhaps the killer is like his victims in more ways than we think; perhaps he or she is androgynous,” Kim suggested. “We know that the less secure a man-or woman- is within himself, the more he cannot afford to accept an explanation of the world that says he is of minor significance in the grand scheme of the cosmos.”
“True, the one you are after believes himself or herself to be at the center of the universe,” said Vladoc. “Think of it. As long as a child is unsure of his immediate environment, that it will protect him, the more he must believe that superior powers, such as a guardian angel, watch over him, and that his place in the world is of supreme and paramount importance.”
“It's far preferable to zero security,” Jessica agreed.
“Imagine parents who make it their full-time job to denigrate protective imagery like angels and invisible friends as mere childish projections, the flotsam of immature minds,” added Vladoc.
“And you rob the child of one aspect of the prolonged safety and comfort he or she requires,” finished Kim.
“Precisely. To quote Bettelheim, 'The child knows that he was created by his parents, so it makes sense that, like himself, all men, and where they live, were created by a superhuman figure not so different from his parents-some male or female god.' “
“He comes to believe that something like his parents, only far more powerful, intelligent, and reliable, will care for him in the world-something like a guardian angel,” added Kim.
Vladoc launched into his conclusion. 'To feel secure on this planet, our killer needs to believe there is a place where the world is firmly held in place by rules and immutable laws, where terra firma means terra firma, and it's all held in place by loving, caring beings, or one super being who wishes to cloak and envelop him with love and an outpouring of concern, and a peace that can never be achieved in this life, not through thugs, not through preachings, not through sex or food or material wealth or fame. It is that which cannot be achieved on this plane that our killer is interested in, not unlike the desires of the great Romantics in art and literature, not unlike Byron's mad quest across the continent in search of the perfect love and the perfect peace.”
“Our killer has been given the unenviable chore of sending over those who believe strongly in the world of invisible spirit?” asked Jessica. “Do you think he hears voices telling him what he's supposed to do?” Of that I have no doubt,” said Vladoc. “Killer and victim share a faith in the angelic world, and magical thinking-taken to the extreme-is as dangerous as reality itself, or religious fanaticism, or any other ism you may go completely obsessive over.” With that, Vladoc bid Jessica and Kim farewell and good night.
The two FBI agents sat alone in the darkened office.
The phone rang, and Jessica picked it up.
“Jessica, it's James. I want to apologize for my behavior the last time we were alone together. I had no right to say some of the things I said. Certainly no right to hurl accusations at you.”
“Apology accepted, James.” She spoke his name for Kim's information. Kim stood, waved, and disappeared, giving her privacy.
James said, “Think for the good of the case, we need a reconciliation? For the good of the case. We must be able to work together.”
“Agreed.”
“So, it appears your visit to the university was pretty much a bust, from the report you and Kim filed.”
Jessica filled him in on their visit.
“Still, I think we need to follow up, talk to this Leare woman and this guy Locke. Shake some trees, see what falls out.”
“Jim, Vladoc has given us some useful insights into the mind of the killer. Now we must match a person to those insights, and I don't see Burrwith fitting in here.”