‘What some famous Greek killed himself with, right?’ Pulaski asked.
Cooper said, ‘Not quite. Different strain of hemlock. Both in the carrot family, though.’
‘Who cares about Socrates?’ Rhyme snapped. ‘Let’s focus here. Does anyone else, aside from me, notice anything troubling about the source?’
Sachs said, ‘He could’ve found it in any field or swamp in the country.’
‘Exactly.’
A commercial substance that was toxic, like those used in industrial processes and easily purchased on the open market, might be traced to a manufacturer and onward to a buyer. Some even had chemical tags that might lead investigators to receipts with the perp’s name on them. But that wasn’t going to happen if he dug his weapon out of the ground.
Impossible to narrow down beyond regions of the country. And presumably, the month being November, he’d picked the plant long ago. Or might even have grown it in a hothouse in his basement.
Equally troubling was the fact that he’d somehow reduced it to create a particularly virulent form of the toxin.
Ron Pulaski happened to be standing beside the whiteboard. Rhyme said to him, ‘Add that to the list in your concise handwriting, rookie, which the Sisters of the Skeptical Heart Church would be exceedingly proud of.’
Rhyme’s mood had improved considerably now that there were challenges to confront, mysteries to unravel … and they had some evidence to work with.
Sachs continued, ‘Now, there were no friction ridges.’
Rhyme hadn’t expected fingerprints. No, the perp was too smart for that.
‘As far as hairs — I found some from rats and some from Chloe but no others, so I’m guessing headgear beyond the stocking cap.’
Close-fitting hats tended to dislodge hair more than keep it from falling out, especially wool or nylon, since the wearer would tend to scratch or rub itches. Rhyme guessed the perp had known this and taken other, more careful precautions to keep his fiber and DNA evidence to himself.
She continued, ‘The prelim for sexual assault was negative — though the ME might find something else. But genitals and secondary sexual locations don’t seem to have been touched. Aside from her abdomen’ — she nodded at the photographs — ‘she was fully clothed. But when I wanded her with the ALS, I found something interesting: dozens of places where he touched her skin, stroked it. More than just to pull it taut to do the tattoo. And she had a small tat on her neck. A flower.’ Sachs displayed the picture on Rhyme’s high-def monitor. ‘He rubbed that a few times, the wand showed.’
‘But not sexual touching?’ Sellitto muttered.
‘Not traditionally sexual,’ Sachs pointed out. ‘He may have a fetish or paraphilia. My impression was that he was fascinated with her skin. He wanted to touch it. Or was driven to maybe.’
Rhyme said, ‘Driven? That’s getting a little fishy for me, Sachs. A little soft. Noted but let’s move on.’
They began on the trace, analyzing substances that Sachs had found near the body and comparing them with control samples from the tunnel, trying to isolate those that were unique to the unsub.
Cooper kept the GC/MS humming.
‘Okay, clustered together we have nitric oxide, ozone, iron, manganese, nickel, silver, beryllium, chlorinated hydrocarbon, acetylene.’
Rhyme nodded. ‘Those were near the body?’
‘Right.’ Sachs looked over her detailed chain-of-custody card, which noted the exact location of each sample.
‘Hm.’ He grunted.
‘What, Linc?’ Sellitto asked.
‘Those’re materials used in welding. Oxy-fuel welding primarily. Maybe it came from our unsub but I’d think it’s more likely from the workers who installed the pipe. But we’ll put it on the chart anyway.’
Cooper selected another sample. It was from the floor near the ladder that led to the manhole. When this analysis was finished the tech frowned. ‘Well, may have something here.’
Rhyme sighed. Then share it, please and thank you, his burdened smile said.
But Cooper wasn’t going to be rushed. He carefully read the mass spectrum — the computer analysis from the instruments.
‘It’s tetrodotoxin.’
Rhyme was intrigued. ‘Ah, yes, we do have something here. Another possible murder weapon.’
‘Poison, Linc?’ Sellitto asked.
Mel Cooper said, ‘Oh, indeed. A good one. It’s from the ovaries of the puffer fish, the fugu. It’s a neurotoxin with no known antidote. Sixty or so people a year die in Japan — from eating it intentionally. In low dosages you can get a high … and survive to pay the check. And for what it’s worth, tetrodotoxin’s the zombie drug.’
‘The what?’ Sellitto asked, barking a laugh.
‘Really.’ Cooper added, ‘Like out of a movie. In the Caribbean people take it to lower their heart rate and respiration to the point where they appear dead. Then they come back to life. Either for religious rituals or as scams. Anthropologists think it might’ve been the source for the zombie myth.’
‘Just the diversion for a slow Saturday night in Haiti,’ Rhyme muttered. ‘Could we stay on point here? On focus? On message?’
Cooper pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. ‘Very small trace amounts.’
‘Unless the ME finds some in Chloe’s blood, he’s probably planning to use it for a future attack.’ Rhyme grimaced. ‘And where the hell did he get it? Probably caught a puffer fish himself. Like he grew the hemlock. Keep going, Mel.’
Cooper was reading from Sachs’s chain-of-custody card. ‘Here’s something from a footprint — one of his, I’m assuming, since it was near the ladder. And obscured.’
Booties …
‘That’s right,’ Sachs confirmed. Cooper showed her the mass spectrum and she nodded, then transcribed the computer analysis to the whiteboard.
Stercobilin, urea 9.3 g/L, chloride 1.87 g/L, sodium 1.17 g/L, potassium 0.750 g/L, creatinine 0.670 g/L
‘Crap,’ Rhyme muttered.
‘What’s wrong?’ Pulaski asked.
‘No,’ Rhyme replied. ‘Literally. Fecal material. Why that? Why there? Any deductions, boys and girls?’
‘There were DS — Sanitation — pipes overhead, but I couldn’t see any sewage on the ground or walls. Probably didn’t come from there.’
‘Dog-walking park?’ Sellitto suggested. ‘Or he owns a dog.’
‘Please,’ Rhyme said, refraining from rolling his eyes. ‘Those chemicals suggest human shit. We could run DNA but that would be a waste of time. Excuse the choice of words.’
‘Bathroom just before he came to the scene?’
‘Possibly, rookie, but I’d guess he picked it up from the sewage system somewhere. I think it tells us he’s been spending a lot of time in underground New York. That’s his killing zone. He’s comfortable there. And if there wasn’t any effluence at the Chloe Moore scene, that means he’s already got a few other sites selected. And it also tells us he’s scoping out his targets ahead of time.’
The parlor phone rang. Sachs answered. Had a brief conversation and then hung up. ‘The ME. Yep, COD was cicutoxin — and no tetrodotoxin. You were right, Meclass="underline" This was eight times more concentrated than what you’d find in a natural plant. And he sedated her with propofol. Neck and arm. Two injection sites.’
‘Prescription drug,’ Rhyme noted. ‘You can’t grow that in your backyard. How did he have access to that? Well, put it on the chart and let’s keep going. The tattoo itself. That’s what I’m really curious about.’
Rhyme gazed at the picture Sachs had taken: inkless but easy to see from the red, inflamed skin. A much clearer image than what he’d viewed through the video camera at the dim crime scene.