Chapter44
AS CLAIRE SAID, we were piecing our killer together, step by step. His height, his face, his fetishes. The way he murdered. Now I had to figure out how he was tracking his victims. Raleigh and I were going full force on the travel and wedding-planner thing. We had fifteen detectives out there following up leads. Now that we had a facial characteristic, we went back to the guests, combing them for a guy in a beard who might have been seen trolling around. I felt confident that some aspect of this widening search would yield results. One of the guests would have noticed someone. We would discover a travel agent in common, a leak somewhere. Or one of Jacobi's searches would come up with a match. The following morning, Hartwig called in. "Sparrow Ridge Vineyards… it's owned by a group here known as E Black Hawk Partners. A local guy, Ed Lester, an attorney, puts together real-estate partnerships." "You know where he was over the weekend?" "Yeah, I checked. Portland. He ran in a marathon there. I caught up with him when he got back to the office. He was definitely in Portland." I still felt certain that whoever had dumped the bodies there hadn't stumbled on the remote vineyard by accident. It meant something to the killer. "He owns this place outright?" "Uh-uh. Black Hawk puts together deals. They bring in outside money from well-heeled guys down your way. People who want to break into the wine game. Lester acts as the managing partner." "So who's he partnered with on this one?" "I don't know. Investors." I sucked in my breath, trying to remain patient. "Which investors?" "Generally, investors who want to remain private. Listen, Inspector, I know where you're heading, but this guy only deals with pretty established people. Believe me, anyone could've found that dump site. Real-estate agents, someone who'd checked it out, anyone local. I have to deal with these people long after you're gone." I cradled the phone in my neck and spun around in my seat toward the window. "This is a multiple-murder investigation, Lieutenant, the worst I've ever seen. The dump site is three miles up a deserted dirt road. Anyone riding around in the dark with two bodies could've safely dumped them anytime before. Whoever did this had to know the vineyard was there. And I don't think it's a local. I don't think he would draw attention so close to where he lives. "Come back to me when you know who Lester's partners are." I hung up on Hartwig. Some of my optimism began to unravel. Raleigh turned up nothing on the travel agents. The Brandts had booked through Travel Ventures, a society agent that catered to a high-end crowd. The De Georges had used Journeytime, out of Los Altos. We had people scour through the personnel records of both firms. There was no connection between the two: no cooperative arrangements, not a single travel agent who had worked for both of them. It was possible someone had tapped into their systems, said the manager of Journeytime. But finding such a person was next to impossible. My end was equally disappointing. I had the files from both wedding planners. Engravers, bands, photographers, caterers, florists. Nothing matched up. The Brandts and the De Georges had lived in two separate worlds. However the killer was identifying the victims, I hadn't found a clue.
Chapter45
I CALLED CLAIRE AND CINDY TOGETHER for a second meeting of the girls. This time, the mood was decidedly different. There was no laughter or high fives. No festive margaritas. Two more people were dead. We had no suspects, only a widening case. Clues that were rapidly leading nowhere. Intense pressure coming down on all of us. Claire was first to arrive. She hugged me and asked how I was feeling. "I don't know," I admitted. I had gone through three treatments. Sometimes I felt strong. At other times, especially in the afternoon, I felt like a ghost of myself. "Medved said he'd review my red cell count next week." Cindy arrived next. She was wearing a halter top under a man's plaid shirt, a pair of embroidered jeans. She was very pretty, and city cool. I hadn't spoken to her since Monday, when I had let her run with the story of the second killings. Even holding her story back for a day, she had still scooped the city. "I guess I'm buying," she announced. She tossed us a new business card with the bright red logo of the Chronicle on it. I read the card, Cindy Thomas, Reporter, Metro Crime Desk. We toasted her with warm congratulations, then we roasted her a little, just to keep her ego in check. What else were friends for? I told them that the travel agents and wedding planners had led nowhere. "A couple of things really bother me," I said. "The gun… Sexual killers don't usually change methods. The methods are part of the sexual thrill." "It's a strange combination," agreed Claire. "He's so in control when he plans his strikes. He seems to know everything. Where they're married, room numbers, what their honeymoon itinerary is. How to get away. Yet, when he kills, he's close to rage. It's not enough to merely kill them. He has to defile." I nodded. "That's the key. He's striking at weddings, something about them is intolerable to him. But I think his obsession's with the brides. Both of the grooms were dispatched quickly. It's as if they didn't even matter to him. But the brides… that's his real fascination. "So where would this guy go," I asked aloud, "to scout potential victims? If you wanted to kill brides, where would you check them out?" "They had to choose a ring," suggested Claire. "A jeweler." "Or City Hall," said Cindy. "They'd need a license." I looked at her and chuckled. "It would sure fit if a government employee was behind this." "Postal employee." Claire and Cindy spoke simultaneously. "Photographers," said Claire. I could see a twisted bastard hiding behind the lens. They were all good possibilities. It only required time and manpower to check them out before the killer struck again. "This bride business isn't exactly my expertise," I said to Claire. "That's why you're here." "What happened to all that three sharp cookies crap?"" She laughed. "And the part about my being a top-notch M.E.?" There was a ripple of frustrated laughter around the table. We all took another sip of beer. The Women's Murder Club. This was good. No men allowed. "Where's the goddamn link?" I asked. "He wants us to find it. That's why he's leaving clues. He wants us to uncover the link." Everyone was silent, lost in thought. "I can feel it," I went on. "In the ceremony, the celebration, he finds something that drives him into psychopathic rage. Something he needs to stamp out. Hope, innocence? The husbands he kills right away. But the brides? How does he fifid the brides?" "If he's living in this twisted dream world," said Cindy, thinking aloud, "he would go to where the fantasy was the strongest, the most vivid. He might want to build up his anger by observing them in an unsuspecting state." Then Claire looked at us with a spark in her eye. "I was thinking, I'd go where they bought their wedding dresses. That's where I would pick the victims out."