“But Father,” Koznicki spread his hands open-palmed on the tabletop, “this Arnold Bush has murdered three women!”
“He says one.”
Lieutenant Tully had arrived.
“One?” Koznicki was clearly startled.
Tully and Mangiapane seated themselves.
“That’s what Bush claims,” said Tully. “He admits to the murder of Mae Dixon, but not the other two.”
“How could that be? How could that possibly be?” Koesler spoke more loudly than he intended. The intensity of his tone drew a waiter to the table.
Tully ordered a light beer, Mangiapane a regular. Neither Koesler nor Koznicki reordered.
Mangiapane scratched his head. “I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. We got him. We got the pictures he took. We got the knife. We got the belt. And, best of all, we found the branding iron.”
Koznicki seemed especially pleased. “You found the iron.”
“Yes, sir.” Mangiapane was far from being on a first-name basis with the boss. “We got it. But he claims he can’t tell us what the inscription means. Said he copied it. And he still won’t admit to more than the last murder.”
“If he will not admit to the first two murders,” Koznicki said, “does he have an alibi for the first two Sundays?”
Tully shook his head. “He lives alone and he is a loner. Same as Kramer,” he added.
Koznicki looked sharply at Tully.
“But why?” Koesler asked. “Why would he not admit he killed all the women?”
Koznicki cocked his head to one side. “There is a possible reason. There was no way he could deny responsibility for the murder of Mae Dixon. The evidence speaks for itself. However, he may be considering some sort of plea such as temporary insanity—some plea that would be difficult to sustain over a full pretrial period.
“That would seem to jibe with his attitude when we arrived at the apartment tonight. It is somewhat rare that a suspect will waive his right to have an attorney present and then be as uncooperative as Bush was. It was almost as if there actually was an attorney present advising him as to when to speak and when to remain silent.”
“That—or he really didn’t commit those first two murders,” Tully murmured.
“Didn’t do them!” Koesler exclaimed. “If he didn’t kill the first two women as well as the third, who did?”
“We got a guy locked up for that,” said Tully dispassionately.
“Lieutenant!” Koesler said, “you can’t still believe that Father Kramer did it!”
“I always did believe it.”
Koznicki was about to intervene, but thought better of it. The battle lines had been drawn. It was between Father Koesler and Tully. It might be revealing one way or the other to let them go at it.
“What about a week ago Sunday?” Koesler pressed. “There can be no doubt that Bush set up Father Kramer. And you arrested him.”
“Bush doesn’t admit that.”
“He doesn’t admit to it!”
“No. And without a confession there is no evidence that he made a call that would bring Kramer to the Dixon apartment. So maybe there was no call. Maybe, as is alleged, Kramer came to the apartment to kill Dixon just as he killed the other two.”
“Lieutenant, that makes no sense. Not in the light of what we’ve learned tonight.” So intent was he in his debate with Tully that Koesler was virtually oblivious to the presence of Koznicki and Mangiapane.
“On the contrary, Kramer looks as guilty now as he did before you came up with Bush.”
“What about the iron—the branding iron, Lieutenant? When you arrested Father Kramer you were unable to find the branding iron. And in the previous two murders, the killer returned to his car to get the brand after strangling the victim. You didn’t find the iron either on Father Kramer’s person or in his car. In fact, you’ve never found a branding iron that belonged to Father Kramer!”
Tully sighed. “Anytime you’re working with human behavior, you’re going to find variables and atypical situations you don’t and can’t expect. I don’t deny it would help to find that iron. But the mere fact that Kramer didn’t have it when we got him doesn’t mean he didn’t have it at one time. He may have made his statement. He may have found it too clumsy an instrument. Even in serial murders, perps change their M.O. They can go from guns to knives to ropes. As long as they can leave a telltale calling card. And in this case the identical cutting and gutting would be enough.”
“But Lieutenant, you’ve got the branding iron! Detective Mangiapane just said you found it tonight, at Bush’s apartment. Never mind his desperate claim that he doesn’t know anything about the inscription. That’s it. What do you need with another one?”
“We got a branding iron tonight. Not necessarily the branding iron.”
“But I assume it conforms with the marks left on the victim’s bodies.”
“It appears to. We’ll see.”
“And if it does . . .?”
“Bush could have made a duplicate. He saw the bodies. He handled them. He had blown-up photos of the brand. He worked in a tool shop. He could have made his own instrument.”
“That’s stretching things pretty far, don’t you think?”
“Not if you’re a professional in police work.” Tully finally got the chip off his shoulder. “They call them copycat murders. It happens. We try to avoid that kind of thing by keeping details of murders—particularly serial killings—out of the media. Otherwise we’d be flooded by wackos duplicating weird murders to the last detail. Usually when there is a copycat murder, the killer messes up badly on one or another detail because he’s not totally informed. But in this case there was no avoiding it. Not when the copycat works in the M.E.’s office. He knows as much as the police, the M.E., the original killer. He knows as much as anybody.”
Koesler considered ordering another glass of wine, but immediately dismissed the notion. He was in an argument with a most worthy adversary, the result of which argument might well mean the release of Father Kramer. At least temporarily.
If Tully’s reasoning were to convince Inspector Koznicki, it seemed possible that the police department would actively oppose the release of Father Kramer.
“One final point then, Lieutenant: The two of them—Arnold Bush and Father Kramer—look enough alike to be blood relatives. What would you think of this scenario? Supposing Arnold Bush kills two prostitutes. The newspapers tell him that the police recognize these as a series of killings by one and the same person. He knows the police will be closing in on these crimes. He also knows that he has a lookalike who is a priest. Easy enough for him to know that. Priests are very public people. They take part regularly in public liturgical functions. Besides, Father Kramer’s picture has been in the Detroit Catholic newspaper any number of times.
“So, the third consecutive Sunday, he phones Father Kramer and dupes him into going on what appears to be a sick call. He knows that Father Kramer drives a black Escort—as does Bush, of course. The trap springs and Father Kramer is arrested. The following weekend Father Kramer is released on bail. Bush, in the M.E.’s office, would be aware of the scuttlebutt from Police Headquarters just down the street. No great trick, I think, for him to learn about Father Kramer’s release on bail. And this allows Bush to commit the third murder, again creating the impression that Father Kramer has struck again.
“He failed only because, by accident, I happened to discern pictures on Bush’s wall that could have been taken only by the killer.
“So it is inescapable: Bush killed the third woman. It follows that he also killed the first two. But, for a reason yet to be discovered, he doesn’t want to admit that just yet.” Koesler concluded with the trace of a verbal flourish.