you operate on, do you? If you found out a patient was a serial killer, would you refuse to treat him?
I guess not. Tony looked at the fire for a moment. I wonder how a guy like that thinks. I mean, if he did it. Everyone has a dark side, but what he did ...
Some people just aren't made like the rest of us, Tony. I sat in when Dad talked to Albert Small. He's a psychiatrist Dad consults with on tough cases.
What did he say?
The serial killer who murdered the people at the cabin is called an organized nonsocial. They are very adept at fitting into society and have above-average intelligence, respectable looks and an uncanny ability to tune in to the needs of others, a skill they use to manipulate people and disarm potential victims. They also have active fantasy lives and visualize their crimes in advance. That helps them anticipate errors that could lead to their capture.
I guess Cardoni fits that profile, right? He's a medical doctor and a good-looking man with above-average intelligence, and he was able to convince a bright woman like Justine Castle to marry him.
That's true, but there are several differences between the profile and Cardoni. His outrageous behavior attracts attention. He botched operations, used drugs blatantly and made himself generally hated.
I see what you mean, Tony said thoughtfully. He sure didn't anticipate errors that could lead to his capture. Leaving that mug and scalpel with his fingerprints at the scene of the murder was really dumb.
If he left them.
What do you mean?
Cardoni claims that he's being framed. Planting those objects at the scene would be a smart move if Cardoni isn't the killer and the real killer wanted to set him up.
Do you believe him? Do you think that's what's happening?
Amanda sighed. I don't know. We pointed this out to Dr. Small, and he had an alternative explanation. Organized nonsocials are people who have never grown out of the ' me' stage that most children are in until they're socialized. They think only of their own needs and see themselves as the center of the universe. They can't conceive of themselves as ever being wrong, which leads them to have very poor judgment on occasion. Their very belief in their own infallibility leads them to make mistakes. Add cocaine use to an already impaired ability to make sound judgments and you end up with someone who leaves incriminating evidence at a crime scene because he can't conceive of being caught.
Amanda stifled a yawn, then blushed and laughed.
Oh, my gosh. I' m boring you, Tony said with a grin. Should I tell you some dirty jokes or juggle?
Amanda gave him a sleepy smile. It's not you. I' m just wiped from the workout and my trial.
She yawned again.
Tony laughed. Time for you to go home. Do you feel awake enough to drive?
Amanda wondered if Tony would offer his guest bedroom if she answered in the negative and where that might lead. Before she could get too deep into those woods, Tony stood up.
Let me fix you a cup of espresso, he said. I make it strong enough to get you to the moon and back without blinking.
Frank was working in the den when Amanda came home a little after eleven. She stuck her head in the door and said, Hi.
Frank looked up and smiled. Where've you been?
Remember Tony Fiori?
Dominic's son?
I had dinner with him.
Really? I haven't seen Tony since ... It must be at least ten years. How did you two get together?
I talked to him at the Y a few weeks ago. Then we bumped into each other at St. Francis after Herb and I interviewed Justine Castle. We had coffee and he asked me out a few days later.
What was he doing at St. Francis?
He's a doctor.
No kidding.
Why are you so surprised?
He had a tough time after Dom died. I heard he dropped out of school. I' m glad to hear that things have worked out for him. Did you have a good time?
Very.
How' d your trial go?
Amanda gave Frank a thumbs-up, then told him about the case.
All right, Frank answered enthusiastically just as the phone rang.
Frank held up his hand and answered it.
Is this Frank Jaffe? a man asked.
Amanda looked at him expectantly, hoping that Tony was calling to say good night. Frank said, This is he, as he shook his head.
I' m beat, Dad. I' m going to hit the hay, Amanda told him, and headed to her room. Frank waved at her, then returned to the phone.
What can I do for you? Frank asked the caller.
It's what I can do for you.
Oh?
I know something about the Cardoni case. We should talk.
Chapter 20
On hot summer nights the Carrington, Vermont, marching band performed concerts in a gazebo on the town square, and you could lie back in the grass, look up at the stars and believe that you were living in a slower, more peaceful time when kids ate ice cream and played tag and adults whiled away the time strolling arm in arm down by Hobart Creek. On those nights the darkness hid the fact that many of the quaint nineteenth-century shops that surrounded the square were out of business or barely hanging on. In daylight there was no way to hide the poverty of the town where Justine Castle had grown up.
As Herb Cross drove to James Knoll's farmhouse, he wondered what Justine's life had been like in this town of trailer parks, taverns and failing mills, and he hoped that the former chief of police could give him the answer. Knoll had seemed excited about the opportunity to talk about police work when Cross phoned him from the police station. He had even offered lunch.
A tall, lanky man with a full head of snow-white hair, leathery skin and bifocals walked down from the porch as soon as Herb parked. Cross shook hands with Knoll.
Come on inside. My wife fixed us some sandwiches and coffee.
When they were seated at the kitchen table, Knoll studied the investigator.
Portland to Carrington is a long way to travel.
Our client is facing the death penalty.
Knoll nodded to indicate that no other explanation was necessary.
It's been some time since I've thought about Justine Castle. Knoll shook his head. That was a bad business.
What happened, exactly? I read a newspaper account, but the details were sketchy.
We kept it that way. Didn't want a scandal. Gil was dead and there was a young woman's reputation at stake.
Knoll took a bite of his sandwich and a sip of coffee before going on.
Gil Manning was our star quarterback and star basketball player ... and a star asshole. ' Course, everyone overlooked the asshole part because he was ...
A star? Herb smiled.
Exactly. Justine was the prettiest girl in school, and they were an item starting in their junior year. Justine was our valedictorian. They were a glamorous couple. Homecoming weekend their senior year, Gil won the game with a ninety-yard run in the final minutes. It was all anyone talked about until they announced their engagement.
Gil was a good high school athlete, but he wasn't good enough for a college athletic scholarship. He didn't have the grades, anyway. Justine could have gone to any college. She was accepted at quite a few, if I recall. Then
