“ I believe so. The Hearts killer, in my estimation, is as anxious to read about himself as everyone else in the city. If we can alert people to the type of killings, down to the victim profile, then maybe we can save a life in the bargain, and maybe… just maybe someone out there's run into the Queen of Hearts killer but doesn't know it. I gave them enough to know one way or the other.”
“ You did this without Meade's approval, didn't you?”
“ Wardlaw's given the press very little. All anyone knows is that the gay community is being stalked by a crazed individual who has some sort of vendetta against gays and cross-dressers in particular. That he's blond- haired, possibly balding, or that he wears a human-hair wig, and that on occasions he wears a dark animal-hair wig is all new; he's also right-handed, of medium height but possessing a lot of brute strength.”
“ Information gleaned from the crime-scene evidence, I gather?”
“ Hairs, fibers left at the scene tell us one thing, the angle and depth of the original penetration wounds during initial attack, another.”
“ Then we know more about this degenerate than I thought.” Kim took in a deep breath of air, clearing her head.
“ Precisely, down to the kind of carving knife he uses, and the unique playing cards he alone seems to possess, perhaps because he knits them himself.”
“ I see. A kind of retaliation to Zanek. And in this way you virtually insure that Matisak will come to New Orleans in pursuit of you.”
“ Not very clever or subtle, but it should get results.”
“ A little clever and a little crazy, yes.”
“ What alternative do I have?”
“ I see.” Kim's tone had become matriarchal. “So, you've exhausted all avenues, have you?”
“ Yes, damnit, I have.”
“ No, Jess, you haven't at all. Let me help you.”
Jessica shook her head, replying, “Don't you get it? I'm a scientist, Kim, pure and simple. I thought for a time I could believe in you and your… power. Like everyone, I strive to find someone or some thing to worship, but for me it always comes back to science. You've got to understand me to understand that I mean no disrespect, but when I lifted my ankles to you, I was high on medication and not thinking clearly.”
Kim half smiled at this and simply said, “I think it was John Tyndale who said that religious feeling was as much a part of the human consciousness as any other feeling; and against it, the waves of science beat in vain.”
“ Very clever, Doctor, but nonetheless-”
“ And Jesus of Nazareth was a scientist.”
“ Really? I would've guessed you'd have called him a psychic, Doctor.”
“ Actually, he was the most scientific man who ever walked the earth.”
Jessica frowned. “Give it a break, Kim.”
“ Because he did what you do, Jess. He plunged beneath the material surface of things and found the spiritual cause.”
“ Spiritual cause, huh? I haven't seen or understood any spiritual cause for some time, Kim. I… I…”
“ I know how lost you feel at times, Jess. How out of touch you become at times with your feelings, your own best impulses. But there is a spirit within you and there is a spiritual cause underlying both the Matisak case and the Hearts case, twisted though it all seems. And God is here with us, on our side, I promise you.”
Jessica only stared back at her, biting her lip, on the verge of venting a tear. Instead, she reached out a hand to Kim and firmly gripped her by the forearm: a silent thanks. “I've got to get out of here, get some air. Want to join me?”
“ Fact is, I really need to see Alex Sincebaugh,” Kim replied.
Jessica nodded, saying, “Keep me apprised,” and left.
Kim stared down corridors within corridors, wondering where she might find the tall, striking lieutenant detective. She went in search of the detectives' squad room.
20
I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart.
The Old Remorse Bar amp; Grill was alive with off-duty cops as early as three P.M. when the rotation between day and night duty was made. It was here that war stories were told and old wounds were, if not healed, layered with an alcoholic balm or two, or three. Cops coming on often stopped in before their watch to catch a glimpse of old partners and friends from the day watch and grab a Coke, a burger and cheese fries along with the latest dirt bubbling from the precinct, while guys going off duty loaded up on gin, whiskey and rye.
The precinct today was abuzz with the news of the quite feminine super-sleuth psychic detective who was going to do Alex Sincebaugh's job for him, put a burr under Big Ben deYampert's butt, get the old “Heart File” up and “pumping” like never before (some of the clowns now humming the musical theme of Entertainment Tonight).
“ Maybe do a triple byyyy-pass!”
“ Tug at the ol' heartstrings.”
“ Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.”
“ Get the ticker tickin'!” someone openly shouted, bringing a round of laughs to a table.
The debate was raging when Sincebaugh entered. He'd long since become sick of guys in the department slipping little heart-shaped candies into his drinks, on the seat of his car and elsewhere; he'd grown accustomed to the childish pranks, from crude drawings of hearts with arrows through them to some yokel's idea of heartfelt poeticisms written on the bathroom walls both here and at the precinct. He'd become almost desensitized to the callous and hard-hearted black humor revolving around the Hearts case like onerous flies about raw meat left on a backyard barbecue.
He'd heard the joke making the rounds, all about the Achy-Breaky Heart NOPD-fashion, and now he caught the drift of the conversation long before everyone was silenced by the whisper-wave that had begun to spread through the semi-darkened room, news that Sincebaugh had entered.
“ It'll take some kind of voodoo witch to locate a devil like that bloody heart-eatin' bastard…”
“ She's a voodoo princess, all right… some looker.”
“ Sincebaugh's a fool. Wouldn't mind if she did a little psychic readin' on me.”
“ Aren't you worried, Malloy, that she'll find out you can't get it up?”
“ Fuck you, Bennett.”
“ Been a real kick in the nuts for Alex, though.”
“ Newsies are havin' a field day with this.”
“ Psychics-woooooooo-here in New Orleans- wooooooo-so, what else is new?”
“ This one's no ten-buck swami with a crystal ball. She's damned good.”
“ She's no back-alley palm reader's what I hear.”
Then total silence as everybody realized that the lieutenant had entered and stepped to the bar. “Give me a beer and make me a ham on rye, will you, Stubby?” Alex ordered more than asked. “I'll be at my desk.” He indicated his usual back booth, but before he left the bar, he turned and said to the assembled cops, “You people have any idea what the fuck you're talking about? Do you?”
A guy named Bennett, who'd gotten smashed here the night before and had been talked into singing “I left my heart in the Mississippi,” stuttered and replied, “Hey, Alex… it's only talk, man. Guys blowin' off steam.”
Alex targeted Bennett, locking him into place with a cold stare as he said, “Psychics may be of use when somebody's pet Persian cat is missing or when a dog is the only eyewitness, so you need someone to communicate with the dog. It's fine if a jewelry store wants to hire a psychic and post a sign saying this store is under psychic
