about having details of her personal life made public. Police officers, especially detectives, were big enough targets for crazies as it was.
'I remember,' Jessica said.
'And I followed the Rosary Killer case pretty closely.'
'I see.'
'Of course, I was in high school then,' Albrecht said. 'I went to a Catholic school. We were all pretty mesmerized by the story.'
High school, Jessica thought. This kid was in high school then. It seemed like yesterday to her.
'By the way, that was a great photo of you on the cover of the mag,' he added. 'Real Lara Croft. You were kind of a pinup for a lot of the guys at my school for a while.'
'So, you're making a movie?' Jessica asked, hoping to get off the subject of the article.
'Gonna try. Making a feature is a lot different from making a short. I've done mainly webisodes so far.'
Jessica wasn't really sure what a webisode was.
'You should stop by my site and check some of them out,' Albrecht said. 'I think you'll like them.'
He handed her a card bearing his name and a website address.
Jessica did the polite thing, scanning the card before putting it into her pocket. 'Well,' she said. 'It was great meeting you, David. Anything you need.' She didn't mean it, of course. She pointed at the just-arrived police transport van. 'I've got to get this started.'
Albrecht held up a hand. 'No sweat. Just wanted to introduce myself.' He smoothed his hair again. 'I'll be around, but you won't even notice me. I promise not to get in your way. I'm a mouse.'
A mouse, Jessica thought. We'll see about that.
Two hours later, with paperwork completed, reports filed, and suspect delivered to the police administration building at Eighth and Race Streets — commonly known as the Roundhouse — the team met at a restaurant called the Hot Potato Cafe on Girard Avenue.
In addition to Jessica and Nicci Malone there was veteran detective Nick Palladino, as well as a relatively new detective in the unit, Dennis Stansfield. Stansfield was in his early forties and was God's gift to women, at least in his own mind. His clearance-rack suits never quite fit, he wore too much cologne and, among his many annoying habits, he seemed to be in constant motion, as if he always had somewhere else to be, something else to do that was far more important than talking to you.
He had only been with the unit for a few months and had yet to make a friend. No one wanted to work with him. His abrasive personality was only one of the reasons. His sloppy work habits, and his uncanny ability to get a witness to clam up immediately, were two others.
Jessica and Nicci held down one side of the table, while Stansfield and Nick Palladino sat on the other.
Nick Palladino — whom everyone called Dino — was a lifer, a South Philly boy with a knack for sniffing out con men and thieves, two categories of criminal of which the city of Philadelphia had no shortage.
They were all on duty for a few more hours, so it was coffee and Cokes for now. They lifted a glass to their day.
Lucas Anthony Thompson, 26, late of Port Richmond, currently a guest of Hotel Homicide, stood accused in the aggravated murder and sexual assault of a young woman named Marcia Jane Kimmelman. According to witnesses, the two had met at an AA meeting in West Philly but, because last names were never used, no one knew who Thompson was. They had a general description, but that was about it.
Marcia's body had been found in a vacant lot on Baltimore Avenue near 47th Street. She had been sexually assaulted, shot once in the head with a. 38 at close range. Three months later Thompson met and attacked a young woman after a meeting in Kingessing, but the woman, a secretary for Comcast named Bonnie Silvera, survived. DNA found in semen left behind by her attacker matched that of Marcia Kimmelman's killer. Bonnie Silvera gave police a highly detailed description of Thompson, and there began an undercover operation that ultimately involved a dozen detectives and brought them to more than six districts.
'So how'd you ID him?' Dino asked.
Nicci deferred to Jessica. 'Talk to the mastermind.'
'Well, we had a little help from the Audio Visual Unit on this one,' Jessica said. 'But when Thompson and I were sitting in that coffee shop I took his picture with my cellphone. Then I sent the photo via SMS to Nicci's phone. Nicci and two uniforms were out in the van, about half a block away, with Bonnie Silvera. A few seconds later Nicci got the photo, opened it, showed it to Bonnie. The witness made the positive ID, Nicci sent me a text, letting me know we were on, and we knew we had him.'
'That was your play?' Dino asked.
Jessica blew on her nails, buffed them dramatically on her blouse.
'My God, you are a dangerous woman,' Dino said.
'Tell the world.'
'I should tell your husband.'
'Like he doesn't know,' Jessica said. 'Right now he's painting the fence behind our house. I'm going to let him draw me a bubble bath later.'
Detective Dennis Stansfield, perhaps feeling left out, piped in. 'You know, I read in a recent survey that, in her lifetime, the average American woman receives 26.5 miles of cock.'
If there was one thing Jessica hated, it was a cop who found a way to make a sex joke after hearing about a rape. Even worse, a rape/murder. Rape had nothing to do with sex. Rape was about violence and power.
Stansfield glanced over at Jessica. It seemed that she had gotten the assignment to be the flustered, blushing female officer in his presence, the one ill at ease in the wake of his shabby jokes. Was he kidding? Jessica had been born and raised in South Philly, and had grown up around cops. She was swearing like a longshoreman by the time she was five. She had even gotten to like the taste of soap.
'Twenty-six miles, huh?' Jessica asked.
'Twenty-six point ftve,' Stansfield replied.
Jessica looked at Nicci, at Dino, back at Stansfield. Dino looked at the table. He didn't know exactly what was coming, but he knew something.
'So, let me get this straight,' Jessica said, squaring off.
'Sure.'
'Is that 26.5 miles counting each insertion, or all the cocks added up individually?'
Stansfield, all of a sudden, started to redden a bit himself. 'Well, I'm not sure. I don't think the survey said.'
Nothing killed a dirty joke like discussion and analysis. 'Not very scientific, then, is it?'
'Well, it was-'
'Now, if we're counting per insertion,' Jessica continued, unbowed, 'that might be just one hell of a weekend.' She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms. 'If we're counting each dick just once
… let's see.' She looked at Nicci, while gesturing to Stansfield. 'How many times does four inches go into twenty-six miles?'
'Twenty-six-five,' Nicci added.
'Right,' Jessica said. 'Twenty-six-five.'
Stansfield was now as red as a Roma tomato. 'Four inches? Uh, I don't think so, darlin'.'
Jessica looked behind her, at the woman setting up the next table. 'Hey, Kathy, is there a ruler in the office?' Kathy was one of the owners of the Hot Potato Cafe.
'Oh yeah,' Kathy said with a wink. A Philly girl herself, she had heard the whole exchange and was probably dying to leap into the fray.
'All right, all right,' Stansfield said.
'Come on, Dennis,' Jessica said. 'Drop that big hot spud on the table.'
Suddenly Stansfield had somewhere else to be. He glanced at his watch, downed his coffee, mumbled his goodbyes, made his exit.
Jessica could ignore the Cro-Magnons of the world on a day like this. A killer was in custody, they had a pile of evidence against him, no civilian or police officer had been injured in the arrest, and a gun was off the street. It didn't get any better than that.
Twenty minutes later they split up. Jessica walked to her car alone. She knew that she had to keep up a front
