opened the knife drawer and checked them out. The thick carving knife was perfect. Be like carving a turkey on Thanksgiving. I checked it and it was like a razor. I nicked my finger and sucked on it until the bleeding stopped. Then I went down the hall to the bedroom. He had the music way up. Ode to Joy. I could picture him standing in the bedroom directing that air orchestra of his. Shoulda been a goddamn orchestra conductor, maybe we never would've met him. That's just what he was doing. He had candles burning - cleaning the air, he called it - some kind of incense. His ring was lying on the table beside the bed. He always took his ring off before he took a shower. He left his watch on, I guess it was waterproof, but he took his ring off. Make sense out of that. So there he stood, the fucking saint of the city. His naked Holiness, conducting that imaginary band of angels. The music was building. I thought, Now it's your turn. So I went over and got the ring and put it on. His Excellency was out of it. Arms flailing around, eyes closed, unaware. I just walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder with the knife and he turns around and I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head when he saw the knife. He got the message real fast. I held out the hand with the ring on it and pointed the knife at it and he begins to smile. So I jabbed the knife towards the carpet and that wiped the smile off his face.
He got down on his knees and I wiggled that ring finger under his nose. The bishop slowly leaned forward to kiss the ring and I pulled away my hand and I swung that knife back with both hands and when he looked up, whack, I swung at his throat. I yelled 'forgive me, father!' but I was laughing in his face when I said it. He moved and I didn't catch him in the throat, the knife caught his shoulder and damn near chopped the whole thing off. He screamed and held out his hands. I don't know how he even raised up that one, but he did. I started chopping on him, but I kept hitting his hands and arms. Then I cut his throat, switched and swung the knife up underhand right into his chest. It was a perfect hit. Didn't hit any ribs, just went right in to the hilt and he went, 'Oh,' like that, and he fell straight back and the knife pulled out of my hand. I had to put my foot on his chest to get it out. Then I took that big swipe at his neck. I couldn't stop. It was like free games on a pinball machine. Blood was flying everywhere. I know every cut I made, they were all perfect. Thirty-six stab wounds, twelve incised, seventeen cuts, and one beautiful amputation. I counted every one.'
'Oh yeah,' Vail sighed, half aloud, 'Stampler certainly can tell some stores that will make - how did Shakespeare put it? - 'each particular hair stand on end like the quills of a porcupine'?'
'Close enough,' said St Claire. 'Question is, who's he talkin' to? Martin? Jane? I mean, who's this here serial killer leavin' messages fer, anyways?'
'Stampler was never a serial killer,' said Stenner. He ticked off his points on his fingers. 'He didn't pick his victims at random, he hid the crimes, he didn't collect what are known as totems - trophies from the scene of the murder.'
Vail nodded in agreement. 'When you look back at Stampler's killing spree, which lasted almost ten years, all the victims were individuals whom he thought had done him harm - and, arguably, they did. Shackles, the born-again madman, tossed over a cliff - the body was never found; his brother and ex-girlfriend, made to look like an accident; the hospital attendant in Louisville, cremated and the ashes thrown away.'
'Then you have Rushman, Peter Holloway, and Billy Jordan,' said Stenner. 'That's when he started leaving symbols. Following a specific MO'
'But he didn't hide the bodies and he didn't take totems,' said Flaherty. This new killer, he follows the MO to the letter, but he does remove items from the victim. Linda Balfour had a stuffed dolphin. It's missing. Same with Alex Lincoln's belt buckle. And the victims were meant to be found. So there are variables here.'
'So what yer sayin', this here new fella is a serial killer,' said St Claire.
'Enjoys it,' Stenner offered. 'Gets off on the killing. Aaron, Roy, whichever, killed for personal reasons. Anger, revenge, getting even for past hurts. This new one, he's killing for motive and the joy of it.'
'And Stampler's providing the motive,' said Flaherty.
'You don't think Roy enjoyed it? He certainly enjoyed describing the murders,' said Vail.
'But he had a specific motive fer everyone he killed,' said St Claire.
'These last two were specific victims,' said Flaherty.
'Not his victims, Stampler's victims,' said Jane.
'If Stampler's figgered out a way to trigger this here killer, what we got, we got a killer enjoys the killin' and Stampler providin' the victims,' said St Claire.
'Maybe it isn't that. Maybe it is a copycat killer. There was a composite tape of all Molly's interviews. It was the tape that was only shown in Shoat's chambers - to Jane and the judge.'
