“Has to be one and the same. He said his name was George Gordonn, didn't he?” Jessica was pacing now as she thought. “It's too much of a coincidence to ignore. He was filming the poet performers, in a place Vladoc no doubt frequents.”
“What do you mean, Jess?”
“Remember the bartender, the one who said he'd had to throw out an older guy who was extremely short?”
“Are you saying that Vladoc was bounced, or that Vladoc might be in on the hunt and possibly the kill? That he's a predator?”
“I don't know, but I think we have to be cautious. Look further down the list.”
“Jesus-I see Garrison Burrwith's name.”
“The one Dean Plummer is convinced is the killer. Maybe she knew he was seeing a shrink, fueling her fears? And look. Locke is on the list as well.”
Kim asked, “Do you think it's significant that Vladoc is treating Gordonn, Locke, and Burrwith?”
“I can't say, but why didn't Vladoc come forward with these facts early in the investigation?”
“He didn't know we ever considered Burrwith a viable suspect. Because we didn't. And as for Gordonn, it's quite likely that no one asked Vladoc about him.”
Jessica felt a wave of incredulity wash over her. “So Vladoc had said nothing about working with Locke. He doesn't think that relevant to the case?”
“You are making it sound like Vladoc's part of the killings, or at the very least that he closed his eyes to it. Don't forget, Jessica, that he must work under a strict code of confidentiality.”
Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“You asked him for a patient list, and he complied, but he still cannot give up patient secrets, their absolute right to privacy.”
“He ought to've found a way to… to leak this information to us.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Only in the event that a patient confesses to a crime or displays incriminating evidence is the doctor required by law to turn over his notes. Only then does the privilege issue take a backseat. Vladoc has likely done what any self-respecting psychiatrist would have done.”
“He might have saved a life had he spoken up.”
“If he held suspicions that one of his patients had taken a life, he could only attempt to convince the criminal to step forward and accept punishment. Until the dangerous patient confesses and becomes a menace to others, the shrink's hands remain bound by client privilege. Vladoc can't give up his notes or make any comment on what passed between himself and a patient.”
“We have to share our findings and suspicions with Parry and Sturtevante, and while the evidence against Locke or Gordonn appears strong, despite its circumstantial nature, the case against 'Weird AT Vladoc is not firm at all.”
“Neither Parry nor Sturtevante will be able to deny the strange coincidence that ties George Gordonn with both the Second Street scene in a big way-taking live-action video.” Kim believed this all tied in to her visions neatly, almost too neatly.
“Get on the horn to the others. We're going to bust this asshole Gordonn,” Jessica declared.
“Are you quite sure?”
“Quite. Given what we know, there's no telling what a thorough search of the man's place will turn up. ”The FBI and PPD investigators organized into two teams, which stormed the production companies simultaneously for personnel records on each suspect. They learned that Stuart Andrews had caused some difficulty for his employers by excessive absence due to alcoholism, and that while he had not been fired, he was encouraged to take his gold watch and pension a little earlier than planned, whereas Gordonn, a young man, had indeed been dismissed for repeatedly missing days and showing up late and hung over.
They closely scrutinized the background of George Linden Gordonn, aware that with the weekend looming, the killer would probably be selecting a new victim. The personnel file showed that he had been let go as recently as the week before the first Killer Poet victim had surfaced.
When the file came up empty of photos of the suspect, one of the personnel secretaries assured James Parry that, “You really don't want to see a photo of that man. He's repulsive.” She had shivered on saying his name. “Warned them against hiring him in the first place.”
“How long did he work here?”
'Two years, three months, and eleven days. I know 'cause I do payroll, and I had to count every one of those days.” She burst into laughter at her own remarks. Parry and Sturtevante radioed their concern to everyone else, Parry saying over the wire, “We're reluctant to let the news spread about Gordonn, fearful of interviewing his working buddies, since one or more of them could tip him off to our interest. We're not exactly in Oz anymore, and so no one expects anyone outside of law enforcement to be cooperative. That would be asking too much.”
“We've got to obtain a federal warrant to stake out his home, and to get a photo surveillance under way,” said Sturtevante. “And I know you feds will have a lot more influence on a federal judge than I could ever hope to have, so it's up to you.” And you're a lot easier on an old judge's eyes than I am by a hefty margin, Jess,” added Parry.
“All right… I get the picture, but I think Dr. Desinor here can handle obtaining the warrant. She's got a lot more patience with local federal judges than I do, believe me.”
Kim nodded. “And besides, Jessica doesn't want to let this guy out of her sight for a moment.”
Jessica glared at her. “You reading my mind again?”
With Gordonn on her mind, Jessica hummed and half sang the words to an old favorite Gordon Lightfoot tune, “If You Could Read My Mind.”
“Just like an old-time novel, the kind the drugstores sell,” piped in Parry, equally bored with staring through binoculars at Gordonn, who was nervously pacing behind the curtains. Jessica watched now as Gordonn's dark silhouette suddenly disappeared. Had he stepped into another room? Had he sat down on a couch, into an armchair, prone on the floor? Had he gone out the back?
“He's on the move!” Jessica suddenly called out.
Parry looked out to see Gordonn burst through the front door, moving directly for the street. Jessica said, “He appears as harmless as a puppy dog; slight of build, thinning hair, undistinguished face, pale skin tone, small and unassuming in every way. Yet he somehow held sway over people's minds, convinced them to go wherever he wanted, to step softly right into their own deaths. He literally talked them out of their lives once he talked them into becoming the 'canvases' for his seemingly benign art form.”
“Yeah, how'd this weasel do that?” asked Parry.
Kim still hadn't gotten back with the search-and-seizure warrants, and Jessica had heard from her only once, something about a hard-nosed, liberal-assed judge who worried about “violating Gordonn's guar-an-teed rights for reasonable expectation of privacy.” Kim wanted to kill the man. Instead, she took her request to another judge during a break in the session, something to do with the original judge having the runs. “In the meantime, I had a psychic episode since last I saw you, Jess.”
“Having to do with the case?”
“Yes, well… I believe so, yes.”
'Tell me about it.”
“Further visions of the crimes, picking up images which lead me to images of… the victims posed for photos.”
“Posed?”
“The killer wanted and got photos of the poems, the killer's handiwork on their backs, before leaving each crime scene.”
“Souvenirs to treasure,” said Jessica, knowing serial killers' penchant for retaining mementos of their victims and the moment they had shared, souvenirs to help them relive the moment.
“This memorabilia of his work,” said Kim, “the killer must keep close at hand.”
“Gordonn just left the premises, Kim. I'll search for the nasty mementos in his home, if you can get me inside.”