The software rotated the windows, floor after floor, with a view of the elevators constantly in the upper right-hand section of the screen.
Shepherd sat down, clicked a few keys, and more than sixty small windows lined up on the two monitors. 'We've got two dome cams in every hall, clock cams in all the personnel spaces, half-zone weatherproof bullet cams in the parking lot, and four state-of-the-art 360-degree pan-and-tilt domes in the atrium and lobby, watching the desk and the money room. Not too much goes on here that we don't see.'
'This is a real voyeur's delight,' Byrne said.
'Wait until you see the bathroom cams,' Shepherd said, with a wink.
Jessica and Byrne had done a lot of work with the Audio-Visual Unit of the PPD, as well as the communications unit, which monitored the PPD street cams, for which Philadelphia was getting more and more funding.
Shepherd brought up the Crystal Room on a split screen. There was a man at the lectern, clearly an employee of whatever company was providing the PA and sound systems for the event. He performed a sound check.
'So the people in this society used to be either cops or prosecutors?' Jessica asked.
'Not at all,' Shepherd said. 'Some were in forensics, some worked for medical examiners' offices, some of them were never on the job at all. There are pretty tight membership rules and dues, which are kind of steep, so they keep out the lowlifes and the thrill seekers.'
'There goes my shot at membership,' Byrne said.
'Believe it.'
'Are they any good at what they do?' Jessica asked.
Shepherd nodded. 'That's my understanding. Every case they take on has to be formally presented to them by a bona fide agency. They don't work with the FBI or the NYPD, but just about everyone else of note has presented something.'
The three of them watched the monitors for a while, the constant rotation of views from within and without the hotel. It was a relentless flow: staff, guests, visitors, deliveries.
Was one of them their killer? Jessica wondered. Would she know him if she saw him?
When Jessica and Byrne returned to the Roundhouse, Jessica checked her messages. Nothing case-breaking. She checked the fax basket. There was a five-page fax from Frederic Duchesne, as promised. It was a detailed description of Carnival of the Animals. She brought it to her desk.
Jessica got onto the Sociйtй Poursuite website. In addition to a brief history, its mission statement, and an explanation of what the group was about, there were lists of its members, officers, past officers, and sub-chapters around the world. It was clear that the group chose its cases carefully, perhaps with an eye on choosing only those that had a chance of resolution.
The menu at the bottom offered links to other sites and to message boards.
'Check the message boards,' Byrne said. Jessica clicked over. There were a few dozen ongoing topics. One was a discussion of current trends in forensics. Another was a discussion of the disposition of homicide cases around the world. There was a discussion of ideas for cases for the group to tackle. This board had more than four thousand entries. Jessica clicked over, and as she scrolled through the posts her skin began to crawl.
One by one the entries appeared. They were all there. All the original homicides had been suggested as cases in which the group might be interested. Melina Laskaris, Marcellus Palmer, Antoinette Chan, Margaret Van Tassel. And they were all suggested by one user. The user name was cssl835.
Jessica got on the phone to John Shepherd, asking him to talk to someone from the group about the criteria for posting. A few minutes later, Shepherd called back.
'I talked to the president of the group,' Shepherd said. 'He says you don't have to log in or be a member to post something on that board. He says that it would discourage people from coming forward.'
'So they have no record of who this 'cssl835' might be?'
'No,' Shepherd said. 'Sorry.'
Jessica thanked him, hung up. She looked back at the screen. Whoever was doing this was connected to, or had an interest in, Sociйtй Poursuite. Was it George Archer? Was George Archer css1835?
Jessica looked at the material she had received from Frederic Duchesne.
Camille Saint-Saens — css — had been born in 1835.
At six-thirty Dana Westbrook stepped out of her office, into the duty room. 'Kevin?'
Byrne turned to look at her. 'Yeah?'
'Could I see you for a minute?'
Byrne crossed the room, dropped his weapon in his file drawer, and walked into Dana Westbrook's office.
Chapter 68
When Byrne walked into the office he was more than a little surprised to see that, in addition to Sergeant Westbrook, there were Michael Drummond from the DA's office and Inspector Ted Mostow. In the corner, arms crossed, smug look in place, was Dennis Stansfield. Russell Diaz held down the other chair.
'Inspector,' Byrne said. 'Good to see you, sir.'
'How've you been, Kevin?'
'Better days.'
'How's the baby?'
Byrne shrugged, more or less on cue. 'Ten fingers, ten toes.'
It was an old expression, one that meant all was well with whatever case you were working on. In homicide you responded that way whether the case was going well or not.
Byrne nodded at Michael Drummond. 'Mike.' Drummond smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Something was wrong.
'Please, have a seat,' Westbrook said. Byrne took a chair near the windows.
'As you know, Detective Stansfield is working the Eduardo Robles homicide,' Drummond began.
Byrne just listened. Drummond continued.
'In the course of his investigation he discovered the existence of a surveillance camera on the opposite side of the street, just across from the Chinese restaurant. After watching footage from the time frame in question, and running the plates on the six vehicles parked on the street, he contacted and interviewed the owners. All but one checked out, and had solid alibis for where they were that night at that time.'
Byrne said nothing.
'The sixth vehicle, a black Kia Sedona, belongs to a man named Patrick Connolly.' Drummond fixed him with a stare. 'Do you know a Patrick Connolly?'
Byrne knew that Drummond, along with everyone else in the room, knew the answer to that question, along with most of the questions he had not yet heard. Byrne had been on the other side of the table too many times not to know the game. 'Yes,' he said. 'He's my cousin.'
'When Detective Stansfield interviewed Mr. Connolly, Connolly told him that he had loaned the minivan out, that he had loaned the vehicle to you. Is that true?'
'Yes,' Byrne said. 'I borrowed the van six days ago.'
'Were you driving it the night in question?'
'I was.'
'Were you in Fishtown that night?'
Again, Byrne knew that everyone knew the answer to this question. No doubt they had spoken to patrons of The Well, people who had put him in the bar that night. 'Yes.'
'Do you recall seeing Mr. Robles that night?'
'Yes.'
'Did you have a conversation or interact in any way with Mr. Robles on that night?'
Byrne had begun to answer the question when Inspector Mostow interrupted. 'Kevin, do you want your PBA
