The crime-scene unit had fingerprinted the third victim at the scene and was rushing the prints through processing. So far the tiny woman found in the Southwest had not been identified. Josh Bontrager worked the missing-person angle. Tony Park was walking the plastic lily through the lab.
The woman also had the same 'moon' drawing on her stomach. The DNA reports on the semen and blood found on the first two victims had concluded that the samples were identical. No one expected a different result this time. It was being fast-tracked nonetheless.
A pair of techs at the document section of the crime lab had now been exclusively assigned to the case to track down the origin of the moon drawing.
The Philadelphia field office of the FBI had been contacted regarding the abduction of Sa'mantha Fanning. They were analyzing the tape and processing the scene. For the time being, the case was out of the hands of the PPD. Everyone expected the case to become a homicide. As always, everyone hoped they were wrong.
'Where are we on the fairy-tale angle?' Buchanan asked. It was just after six o'clock. Everyone was exhausted, hungry, ill-tempered. Lives were being put on hold, plans cancelled. Some holiday season. They were waiting on the preliminary report from the medical examiner's office. Jessica and Byrne were among the handful of detectives in the duty room. 'Working on it,' Jessica said.
'You might want to look into this,' Buchanan said.
He handed Jessica a section of a page from that morning's Inquirer. It was a brief article about a man named Trevor Bridgwood. Bridgwood was a traveling storyteller and troubadour, the article said. Whatever that was.
Buchanan had given them more than a suggestion, it seemed. He had dug up the lead, and they would follow up.
'We're on it, Sarge,' Byrne said.
They met in a hotel room at the Sofitel on Seventeenth Street. Later that evening, Trevor Bridgwood was doing a reading and signing at Joseph Fox Bookshop, an independent bookstore on Sansom Street.
There must be money in the fairy-tale business, Jessica thought. The Sofitel was far from cheap.
Trevor Bridgwood was in his early thirties, slender and graceful, decorous. He had a sharp nose and a receding hairline, a theatrical manner.
'This is all rather new to me,' he said. 'More than a little unnerving, I might add.'
'We're just looking for some information,' Jessica said. 'We appreciate you meeting with us on such short notice.
'I hope I can assist.'
'Can I ask what it is you do exactly?' Jessica asked.
'I am a storyteller,' Bridgwood replied. 'I spend nine or ten months of the year on the road. I appear all over the world, performing in the United States, Great Britain, Australia, Canada. Anywhere English is spoken.'
'In front of live audiences?'
'Mostly. But I also perform on radio and television.'
'And your main focus is fairy tales?'
'Fairy tales, folk tales, fables.'
'What can you tell us about them?' Byrne asked.
Bridgwood stood, walked to the window. He moved like a dancer. 'There's an awful lot to know,' he said. 'It's an old form of storytelling, encompassing many different styles and traditions.'
'Just the primer then, I guess,' Byrne said.
'We can begin with 'Cupid and Psyche,' if you wish, which was written around A.D. 150 or so.'
'Maybe something a little more recent,' Byrne said.
'Of course.' Bridgwood smiled. 'There are many touchstones in between Apuleius and Edward Scissorhands.'
'Such as?' Byrne asked.
'Where to begin. Well, Charles Perrault's Histoires ou Contes du temps passe was important. That collection contained 'Cinderella,' 'The Sleeping Beauty,' 'Little Red Riding Hood,' and others.'
'When was this?' Jessica asked.
'It was 1697, or thereabouts,' Bridgwood said. 'Then of course in the early 1800s the Brothers Grimm published two volumes of collected stories titled Kinder und Hausmarchen. These are some of the best known fairy tales, of course-'The Pied Piper of Hamelin,' 'Tom Thumb,' 'Rapunzel,' 'Rumpelstiltskin.' '
Jessica took the best notes she could. Her German and French were sorely lacking.
'After that, Hans Christian Andersen published his Fairy Tales Told for Children in 1835. Ten years later two men named Asbjornsen and Moe released a collection called Norwegian Folk Tales, from which we read 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff ' and others.
'Arguably, as we approach the twentieth century, there are really no major new works or new collections to be found. Much of it is retelling of classics as we move into Humperdinck's opera of Hansel and Gretel. Then Disney released Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in 1937, the form was revived, and it has flourished ever since.'
'Flourished?' Byrne asked. 'Flourished how?'
'Ballet, theater, television, movies. Even the film Shrek owes the form. And, to a certain extent, The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien himself published 'On Fairy Stories,' an essay on the subject that he expanded from a lecture he gave in 1939. It is still widely read and discussed in college-level fairy-tale studies.'
Byrne looked at Jessica, back at Bridgwood. 'There are college courses in this?' she asked.
'Oh yes.' Bridgwood smiled, a little sadly. He crossed the room, sat at the desk. 'You probably have the notion that fairy tales are rather sweet little morality tales for children.'
'I guess I do,' Byrne said.
'Some are. Many are much darker than that. In fact, a book called The Uses of Enchantment by Bruno Bettelheim explored the psychology of fairy tales and children. It won the National Book Award.
'There are, of course, many other important figures. You asked for an overview, and that's what I'm giving you.'
'If you could sum up what they all have in common, it might make it easier for us,' Byrne said. 'What is the common thread?'
'Essentially, a fairy tale is a story that arises out of myth and legend. Written tales probably grew out of the oral folk-tale tradition. They tend to involve the mysterious or supernatural, they tend not to be tied to any specific moment in history. Hence the phrase 'once upon a time.' '
'Are they tied to any religion?' Byrne asked.
'Not usually,' Bridgwood said. 'They can be quite spiritual, however. They usually involve a humble hero, a perilous quest, a vile villain. Folks are usually all good or all bad in fairy tales. Many times the conflict is resolved by using, to some extent, magic. But this is terribly broad. Terribly broad.'
Bridgwood sounded apologetic now, like a man who had shortchanged an entire field of academic study.
'I don't want to leave you with the impression that fairy tales are all alike,' he added. 'Nothing could be further from the truth.'
'Can you think of any specific stories or collections that focus on the moon as its subject?' Jessica asked.
Bridgwood thought for a few moments. 'One that springs to mind is a rather long story that is really a series of very short sketches. It is a narrative that tells of a young painter and the moon.'
Jessica flashed on the 'paintings' found on their victims. 'What happens in the stories?' she asked.
'Well, this painter is very lonely, you see.' Bridgwood suddenly became quite animated. It appeared that he was shifting into a theatrical mode-better posture, hand gestures, lively tone. 'He lives in a small town and has no friends. One night he is sitting in his window and the moon comes to him. They talk for a while. Before long the moon makes the painter a promise that every night he will return and tell the painter what he has witnessed all over the world. In this way, the painter, without leaving his home, could imagine these scenes, render them to canvas, and perhaps become famous. Or maybe just make a few friends. It is a marvelous story.'
'You say the moon comes to him every night?' Jessica asked.
'Yes.'
'For how long?'
'The moon comes thirty-two times.'
