Seventeen
Matt smiled at Sam’s wide-eyed expression as they wound their way through the frantic activity of police headquarters. The prostitutes yelled and the muggers cursed as the detectives led them handcuffed through the halls to the holding cells.
Leaning close to her, he whispered, “Just like in the movies, huh?”
Shooter was busy on the phone, but looked up and shrugged wearily as he waved the group toward Clark’s office.
Clark seated them at the conference table, and said, “Welcome, thanks for coming.” He sat at the head of the table and asked, “Would you like some refreshments?”
Sam and Matt took Cokes, while Shelly asked for another espresso, which Clark served from a tray on a side table.
“Sherry Landry, my secretary and aide-de-camp, will be here in just a moment with the computer printouts.”
Shelly asked, “Any idea what they show?”
Clark shrugged. “No, she wouldn’t tell me over the phone. Said it would be more impressive in person.”
“Chief,” Sam asked sharply, “why do you have a secretary looking into this? Wouldn’t a policeman have a better idea of what to look for?”
Clark grinned. “Don’t let the title ‘secretary’ fool you, Dr. Scott. Sherry is a policewoman herself. In fact, she’s a third-generation cop.”
Sam blushed. “Oh.” Then, with some irritation, “Are most of the policewomen working as secretaries?”
Clark regarded her for a moment, before sighing. “I know, it sounds sexist and demeaning, but let me explain. Sherry had three years on the street, and there wasn’t a better or more competent officer on the force.”
He stood and went to refill his coffee. “However, there are certain realities, political realities, on the police force as there are in all large companies. The fact is, that in order to get her gold shield, her promotion to the rank of detective, Sherry had to come in as a secretary.”
Sam blurted, “That’s terrible!”
Clark took the time to light a cigarette. “No, no, it’s not. I sought her out and recruited her because I thought we needed some really good female detectives, and that was the fastest way to get her up and running. This way, she gets her gold shield five or six years sooner than she would have otherwise, and I get the use of a topnotch female in my department.” He spread his hands and smiled. “See, everyone wins.”
“Oh, so she’s not just a secretary?”
“Dr. Scott, don’t ever say ‘just a secretary.’ Sherry is as valuable in helping me with the administrative demands of the office as she is in the field arresting criminals. She has a first-rate mind and I couldn’t do without her.”
Just then, Sherry Landry arrived, carrying a large stack of computer printouts.
Clark stood and introduced her, then winked and said, “Sherry, Dr. Scott was objecting to your being a mere secretary.”
Sherry laughed, clenched her fist in the air, and said, “Right on, sister,” as she stacked the printouts on the desk. “It’s about time men realized women run the place and do all the work while they get all the credit!”
Sherry was big, almost six feet in height, but was pretty and moved with a grace and femininity unexpected in one so tall. She had a ready sense of humor and brightened the room just by being in it.
Matt could see why Clark depended on her so much and why she was so valuable to him.
A few minutes later, Shooter appeared in the doorway and leaned against the door frame. He was wearing black jeans and a lavender Izod shirt with a charcoal-gray sport coat. “Mornin’, Chief, I see our consultants have arrived.”
Clark winced at the sight of Shooter’s clothes as he said, “I think you know everyone here.”
Shooter moved aside as Sherry pushed by him with another stack of computer printouts. She glanced up and down at his clothes as she passed and tried to hide her smile. “Mornin’, Shooter. You’re lookin’ good this morning.”
He grinned back. “Mornin’, Sherry.” He returned her look-for-look, then remarked, “You too, darlin’.” Typical behavior for Shooter, Matt thought. He couldn’t resist flirting. No wonder his social life was a disaster.
Clark watched this byplay without comment. “Okay, Sherry”—he inclined his head toward the stack of papers in her hand—“how about telling us what you’ve found.”
She plopped the printouts on his desk and sat in one of the chairs at the conference table. “Well, Chief, you were particularly interested in homicides involving throat wounds.” She looked up as Shooter turned another chair around and straddled it, leaning his chin on his crossed arms. “So, I ran a computer check and had it list all the unsolved homicides in the past year in which the cause of death was a throat wound or loss of blood from a throat wound.”
She waved her hand at the stack of papers. “If you consider only the unsolved murders and eliminate the obvious drug-related shootings and stabbings, forty-three percent have a throat wound and massive blood loss listed as the cause of death.”
Visions of Bela Lugosi biting and sucking his way through the dark Houston streets played in Matt’s mind.
Shooter’s mouth dropped open. “No way!”
Clark stared at the stack of papers for a moment. “How many, in round figures, in the last year?”
“Over a hundred, give or take ten or fifteen that looked like typical throat cutting with a knife or razor.” She looked at the group around the table, wet her lips, and went on rapidly, as if afraid they wouldn’t let her finish. “Chief, I think this is clear evidence that we have a serial killer in Houston who has been killing with the same modus operandi for at least the last year.”
Shooter blurted out, “Jesus, that’s incredible! There’s no way this could have gotten past the homicide department without this kind of pattern being noticed.”
Sherry said, “And what about the medical examiner’s office?”
Clark held up his hand. “Our medical consultants and I discussed that at length earlier this morning, and I assure you it’s not only possible, but it’s probable that’s just what happened.”
He inclined his head toward Shelly, who recounted the discussion they’d had in his office.
Sherry frowned in concentration for a moment. “I agree, Chief. From the printouts, it seems that most of the victims were prostitutes and winos, and the killings were spread out over the entire city in different precincts.” She spread her arms. “There just wasn’t anyone who cared enough about these people to put pressure on the investigators to solve the crimes. Also, since no single precinct saw more than a few of them in the course of a year, there wasn’t anyone to put the pattern together. Hell, it took me over two hours on the computer, and I was looking for a pattern.”
Clark rose and walked over to the window and stared out at the heat waves radiating up from the concrete all around the station. Finally, he turned and sat on the edge of his desk. “Sherry, I want you to drop everything else and get on this full-time. Get as many of the actual autopsies on these cases as you can, with pictures if available.” He glanced at Shelly. “Shelly, I want you to compare the wounds and see if there really is a similar MO or if all this is just coincidence.”
Clark cut his eyes to Matt. “Matt, you need to bring the various emergency rooms in the city up to date on our findings and have them be on the lookout for any further throat wounds.”
After Matt told him he was already working on it, Damon pointed his finger at Shooter. “I want you to get the word out that all homicides that involve throat wounds are to be handled by you personally—work on nothing else until this is over.”
Shooter said, “Check.”
Clark stood and walked toward the door, indicating the meeting was over. “I’ll get with the police commissioner this afternoon and try to clear the way for Dr. Silver’s team to participate more actively in the investigation, since it’s obvious the ME’s office has dropped the ball.”
Shooter stood and unconsciously mimicked Damon’s habit of adjusting his coat and hitching up his pants. “See ya later, Chief.” As he left the office, he unconsciously patted down his curly hair, glancing back over his shoulder at Sam.
Clark stepped through the door, rubbing his face with his hands as if he could rub away his fatigue. “I’ll justify it to the chief of police on the basis of security. If we are dealing with a serial killer, we need to keep the news from the media, and the ME’s office is a sieve where that’s concerned.”
He stopped at the doorway and glanced at Shelly. “Any results on that blood from the Bellaire killings yet?”
Shelly shook his head. “No, but my consultant said it’d be ready in the next day or two. He was having some trouble getting time on the electron microscope.”
“Good. Let me know when you’ve got it.”
Silver, Sam, and Matt left after Sherry said she would send over the packet of autopsy reports and photos as soon as she got them together.