The crime scene was on Market Street, located in the newly renovated part of downtown that had been designed to replicate what the area looked like at the turn of the twentieth century.
A tourist destination, the main part of the thoroughfare was closed to all but pedestrian traffic. Shoppers and tourists crowded the myriad restaurants and high-end boutiques that fronted the roadway.
A late-model silver Land Rover Discovery had just pulled out of a permissible parking space at the far end of the street when its driver, a stylishly dressed woman who appeared to be in her early forties, was shot to death through the driver’s-side open window.
As was the case with the earlier killings, the inside of the Discovery was a bloody mess. There were no discernible clues.
Deputies Farmer and Striar were on the scene, their investigative process already underway. Norma Richard, the county coroner, had also arrived as had a forensics team and an ambulance, all of them hoping to avoid the approaching rain.
A tent had been set up across the street from where the murder occurred. Members of the press, including TV reporters and technicians, were setting up inside. One or two of the reporters shouted questions at me, but apart from offering them a friendly greeting, I ducked them.
Farmer and I studied the crime scene, walking the length and breadth of the area, hoping to discover anything that might aid in solving what was an increasingly alarming series of murders.
Farmer conducted himself with the confidence of someone whose past had been littered with random killings. While he paid lip service to the emotional impact of these tragedies, he appeared bereft of emotion. He walked through the investigations with self-possession and assertiveness, but also with an odd detachment that I found disquieting.
“What do you make of this, Buddy?” Buzz inquired.
“I wish I had something concrete to offer. What jumps out at me is the killer’s expertise. These weren’t just randomly chosen locations. As was the case with the first two, there are no security cameras here. Hence, we have no photographic information to assist us.”
“So, what does that tell you?”
“That the killer was more concerned with finding the location than in choosing the victim. Our perpetrator is pretty crafty. He or she spends whatever time it takes to find an appropriate location and then, once selected, he or she stakes it out until the moment is exactly right. And, given the constraints of this particular location, finding the right combination of time and victim presented the killer with a singular challenge.”
“You think it’s like a game for him.”
“Or her,” I added. “I do. And it’s a far more complicated game than what meets the eye. Pulling off murders of this kind without leaving even a shred of evidence is exceptionally difficult. We may be dealing with some kind of criminal mastermind here. These killings represent a deadly combination of impeccable planning and ingenious execution. No pun intended.”
“So, how do we find this so-called mastermind?”
“Beats me.”
“I’m serious, Buddy. How do we go about finding this person?”
“On a wing and a prayer?”