Thirty-two times, Jessica thought. 'And this was a Grimms' tale?' she asked.
'No, this was written by Hans Christian Andersen. The story is called 'What the Moon Saw.' '
'And when did Hans Christian Andersen live?' she asked.
'From 1805 to 1875,' Bridgwood said.
I would put the originals at around the second half of the nineteenth century, Ingrid Fanning had said about the dresses. Closer to the end. Perhaps 1875 or so.
Bridgwood reached into a suitcase on the table. He extracted a leather-bound book. 'This is not by any means the complete works of Andersen, nor despite its weathered appearance, is it particularly valuable. You are welcome to borrow it.' He slipped a card into the book. 'Return it to this address whenever you are finished. Take as long as you like.'
'That would be helpful,' Jessica said. 'We'll get it back to you as soon as possible.'
'Now, if you'll excuse me.'
Jessica and Byrne stood, slipped on their coats.
'I'm sorry I have to rush,' Bridgwood said. 'I have a performance in twenty minutes. Can't keep the little wizards and princesses waiting.'
'Of course,' Byrne said. 'We thank you for your time.'
At this, Bridgwood crossed the room, reached into a closet, pulled out a very old-looking black tuxedo. He hung it on the back of the door.
Byrne asked, 'Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?'
'Only this: To understand magic, you have to believe.' Bridgwood slid into the old tuxedo coat. Suddenly he was a denizen of the late nineteenth century-slender, aristocratic, somewhat peculiar. Trevor Bridgwood turned, winked. 'At least a little bit.'
61
It was all in Trevor Bridgwood's book. And the knowledge was horrifying.
'The Red Shoes' was a fable about a girl named Karen, a dancer who has her feet amputated.
'The Nightingale' was about a bird that captivated an emperor with its song.
'Thumbelina' was about a tiny woman who lived on a lily pad.
Detectives Kevin Byrne and Jessica Balzano, along with four other detectives, stood speechless in the suddenly quiet duty room, looking at pen and ink illustrations from a children's book, the realization of what they were facing a raging stream beneath their thoughts. The anger in the air was palpable. The feeling of frustration was worse.
Someone was killing the citizens of Philadelphia in a series of murders based on the stories of Hans Christian Andersen. The killer had struck three times that they knew of, and now there was a good chance that he had Sa'mantha Fanning. Which fable would she be? Where was he going to place her on the river? Would they be able to find her in time?
All these questions paled in the light of one other gruesome fact contained between the covers of the book they had borrowed from Trevor Bridgwood.
Hans Christian Andersen wrote nearly two hundred stories.
62
The details surrounding the strangulation murders of the three victims found along the banks of the Schuylkill River had leaked, and every newspaper in the city, the region, and the state was carrying the story of a compulsive killer in Philadelphia. The headlines, as expected, were lurid.
A Fairy Tale Murderer in Philadelphia?
A Fabled Killer?
Who is the Schuylkiller?
Hansel and Regrettable? trumpeted the Record, a tabloid rag of the lowest order.
The usually jaded Philadelphia media were off and running. There were news crews up and down the Schuylkill River, doing stand-up shots on the bridges, on the banks. A news helicopter had flown the entire length of the river, taking footage as it did so. The bookstores and libraries could not keep books on Hans Christian Andersen on the shelves, nor the works of the Brothers Grimm and Mother Goose. It was close enough for the sensationalists.
Calls were coming into the department every few minutes about ogres and monsters and trolls following children throughout the city. One woman called and said she had seen a man in a wolf costume in Fairmount Park. A sector car followed up and found it to be true. The man was currently in the drunk tank at the Roundhouse.
By the morning of December 30 there were a total of five detectives and six crime-scene officers assigned to investigate the crimes.
Sa'mantha Fanning had not yet been found.
There were no suspects.
63
At just after three o'clock on December 30 Ike Buchanan stepped out of his office, got Jessica's attention. She had been collating rope suppliers, trying to track down retail outlets that carried the specific brand of swim lane rope. Trace evidence of the rope had been found on the third victim. The bad news was that, in this day and age of Internet shopping, you could buy just about anything without face-to-face contact. The good news was that Internet shopping generally required a credit card or PayPal. That was Jessica's next line of inquiry.
Nick Palladino and Tony Park were off to Norristown to interview people at the Centre Theater, looking into anyone there who might have been connected to Tara Grendel. Kevin Byrne and Josh Bontrager were canvassing the area near where the third victim had been found.
'Can I see you a minute?' Buchanan asked.
Jessica welcomed the break. She stepped into his office. Buchanan motioned for her to close the door. She did.
'What's up, boss?'
'I'm pulling you off the multiple. Just for a few days.'
The statement took her by surprise, to say the least. No, it was more like a hook to the gut. It was almost as if he had said she was fired. He hadn't, of course, but she had never been pulled from an investigation before. She didn't like it. She didn't know a cop who did.
'Why?'
'Because I'm putting Eric on that gang hit. He's got the contacts, it's his old patch, and he speaks the language.'
There had been a triple homicide the day before, a Latino couple and their ten-year-old son had been killed, execution-style, while sleeping in their beds. The theory was that it was gang retaliation, and Eric Chavez, before joining the homicide unit, had worked antigang.
'So you want me to-'
'Work the Walt Brigham case,' Buchanan said. 'You'll be partnered with Nicci.'
Jessica felt a strange mixture of emotions. She had worked one detail with Nicci, and she looked forward to the chance of working with her again, but Kevin Byrne was her partner, and they had a bond that transcended gender and age and time on the job.
Buchanan held out a notebook. Jessica took it from him. 'These are Eric's notes on the case. It should get
