'No doubt.'
I allowed myself a long, cool swallow. I started drinking two a day when I learned the brew might be good for fighting cholesterol. At the same time I cut back to only an occasional bacon cheeseburger and chocolate shake. Now I only eat red meat when doubling the ration of beer. Somehow I've convinced myself the arterial arithmetic works out.
I tried thinking it through, but my head was spinning and not from the beer. 'Charlie, best I can figure, we may have a crazed killer or a sane one, or two crazed killers or two sane ones, or one of each. And the Compu-Mate connection either ties the two killings together or not, depending on whether we're dealing with one nut or two, or two non-nuts, or one of each.'
'Verus,' Charlie agreed. 'Anything is possible, but since the computer club is the only apparent connection, I suggest you pursue the computer business.'
'Rodriguez is checking out each woman's calls,' I said.
'You got the list?'
'From A to Z, or Android to Zorro, as the case may be. You wouldn't believe some of their handles.'
I pulled out two lists that had been personally delivered to my office by Bobbie Blinderman the day before.
She had stopped traffic along the law-office corridors. Ushering the tall, sleek one into my office, Cindy had raised her eyebrows and said, 'Love your shoes, honey.'
It's hard to notice shoes when the red leather skirt stops a foot above the knees, but once you do, it's just as hard not to stare. The plastic see-through heels were filled with water and a goldfish swam in each one. The SPCA know about this?' I asked.
'It's a performing art,' Bobbie Blinderman said. The fish only last a little while. Then they go limp and die.' She paused long enough to smirk. 'Just like most men.'
'So you keep casting for bigger fish.'
'Maybe I found one,' she said, laughing, and running a hand through her dark, layered hair. She tossed an envelope onto my desk. 'Here's the printout of callers to Miss Diamond.' Then she flipped a second one at me. 'And here's one for Miss Rosedahl.'
I must have looked like a mule kicked me. 'I read about it in the paper,' she said quickly. 'Some fucking maniac, huh?'
There was no mention of either one belonging to Compu-Mate. That's under wraps.'
'I recognized Rosedahl's name. One of our regulars. Went by the handle 'Flying Bird.''
'You're under no obligation to produce her calls,' I said, sounding very much like the uptight lawyer who lurked deep inside.
She laughed again. 'I know, but I was afraid you'd hit me with your big, bad subpoena.'
Now I spread the lists on the wooden dock between the old man and the canal. On the night she was killed, Marsha Diamond computer-talked with four men.
BIGGUS DICKUS
BUSH WHACKER
ORAL ROBERT
PASSION PRINCE
Nine names turned up on Mary Rosedahl's list.
BIGGUS DICKUS
HARRY HARDWICK
HORNY TOAD
MUFF DIVER
PASSION PRINCE
ROCK HARD
SLAVE BOY
STUDLY DO-RIGHT
TOM CAT
Charlie tsk-tsked, as was his habit when witnessing the decline of civilization. 'Those names. So…
'Sophomoric,' I suggested.
'Crude,' he said. 'What on earth do the men say to the women after introductions like that?'
'Apparently, everything they wouldn't say in person. The impression I get is that your Caspar Milquetoast who wouldn't dream of speaking to a strange woman in a bar loses all inhibitions when he's tapping out messages in the night.'
'Did Mrs. Blinderman tell you that?'
'Sort of. She's a little warped herself.'
'You've got two matches there, you know.'
'Yeah. Biggus Dickus and Passion Prince. They're first on Rodriguez's invitation list for a little chat.'
'Good. I've been doing some research for you, too. Lord Tennyson was acutely aware of madness. His father, Dr. George Clayton Tennyson, was clearly manic-depressive.'
I gave Charlie my how-do-you-know-that look.
'Relax,' he said. 'I've been to the library. You should try it sometime. Now, the poet himself was subject to great depression. He would check himself into the 1840s equivalent of a health spa. Unfortunately, these were establishments of intense quackery. He'd subject himself to hydropathy, which is a fancy word for ice-water baths and massages. All day long, freezing baths and rub-downs with wet, cold sheets, followed by meals of bread and cold water.'
'Not exactly a weekend at the Fontainebleau.'
'The idea was to flush out the poisons, the demons of the mind.'
'Okay, what's that have to do with us?'
'Maybe nothing, but best to remember we don't have messages written by the killer. We're dealing with words written by someone who apparently influenced the killer.'
'So we should learn as much as we can about that someone.'
'Exactly. For what it's worth, Tennyson wrote 'Locksley Hall' after being jilted by a lover.'
'Hell hath no fury like the poet scorned. What about the first message-Jack the Ripper?'
'Here, I brought something for you to read.' He motioned toward his knapsack. Inside, next to a sandwich of smoked amberjack on sourdough, was an old book. A musty old book with pages that stuck together and a title by someone who never saw a movie marquee. A Detailed History and Critical Analysis of Police Investigatory Techniques During the Whitechapel Murders, August 31 to November 9, 1888.
I thumbed through the book, peeling yellow pages apart. 'Somehow, I thought Jack the Ripper had a longer rampage.'
'Five killings over seventy days,' Charlie said. 'All middle-aged prostitutes, all alcoholic, all killed within a one-quarter-square-mile area. He disemboweled them, you know. Removed the uterus from one with some medical skill. With a couple, the police missed him only by a matter of seconds.'
'Mary Ann Nicholls,' I said, reading from the book. 'The first one. 'Warm as a toasted crumpet' when found, it says here. What about the note?'
'There were at least three, actually. Turn to where I've marked it. The first letter was written in red ink and sent to a newspaper after the second murder.'
I found the page and read aloud:
''Dear Boss,
I am down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work, the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now? I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me and my funny little games.
Yours Truly,
Jack the Ripper''
