'I don't. Unless the killer couldn't get behind the victim, like the others were slashed, and gassing was the only way to handle him.'
'Well, they'll find out what it was in the PM. We've been promised the report tomorrow morning. Now… let's get back to my original question: How the hell did you know there'd be a killing last night?'
'I didn't know. I guessed. And I didn't specify last night; I warned Boone about May seventh to ninth. Did you put on more men?'
'Yeah,' Thorsen said sourly. 'As a matter of fact, we had a decoy in the Cameron Arms Hotel last night while it was going down.'
'Shit,' Delaney said.
'He was in a disco, figuring that would be the logical place for the killer to make contact. It didn't work out that way. Edward, we can't cover every bar, cocktail lounge, disco, dining room, and hotel lobby in midtown Manhattan. That would take an army.'
'I know. Still, it burns my ass to be so close and miss it.'
'You still haven't told me how you figured it might happen last night.'
'It's a long story. You better have another drink.'
The Admiral hesitated just a moment.
'All right,' he said finally. 'After what I've gone through in the last twelve hours, I've earned it.'
Delaney repeated everything he had previously related to Monica: how he had slowly come to believe the Hotel Ripper might be a woman; the research he had done; and how some of it substantiated his theory.
And how the implied circumstances of the murders lent further credence: the absence of any signs of struggles; the heterosexual victims found naked; the attacks (except for the last) all made from the rear, the victims apparently not expecting sudden violence.
Midway through his recital, Delaney took two cigars from his desk humidor. Still talking, he rose and leaned forward to hand one to the Admiral, then held a match for him. He sat down again and, puffing, resumed his discourse.
He argued that only presuming the perpetrator was a woman wearing a wig-not a prostitute, but a psychopath-could all the anomalies of the murders be explained.
'She kills at regular intervals,' he concluded. 'In, say, twenty-five to twenty-seven-day cycles.'
'During her periods?'
'Probably. Maybe a few days before or a few days after. But every month.'
'Well…' Thorsen said with a rueful smile, 'that gives us an age approximation: twelve to fifty!'
'What do you think, Ivar? About the whole idea?'
Thorsen looked down at his drink, swirling the whiskey around slowly in the glass. 'Not exactly what I'd call hard evidence. A lot of shrewd guesses. And a lot of smoke.'
'Oh hell yes. I admit it. But have you got any better ideas?'
'I haven't got any ideas. But on the basis of what you've told me, you want us to-'
'I don't want you to do a goddamned thing,' Delaney said furiously. 'You asked me for my ideas and I gave them to you. If you think it's all bullshit, then I-'
'Whoa, whoa!' the deputy said, holding up a hand. 'My God, Edward, you've got the shortest fuse of any man I know. I don't think it's all bullshit. I think you've come up with the first new idea anyone has offered on this mess. But I'm trying to figure out what to do about it. Assuming you're right, where do we go from here?'
'Start all over again,' Delaney said promptly. 'They've been checking out escaped mental patients and psychos, haven't they?'
'Of course. All over the country.'
'Sure they have-male crazies, and probably just homosexual male crazies. We've got to go back and do it all over again, looking for psychopathic women, escaped or recently released. And pull out all the decoys from gay bars and send them to straight places. These killings have nothing to do with homosexuals. And go back through our records again, looking for women with a sheet including violent crimes. There's a hell of a lot that can be done once you're convinced the killer is female. It turns the whole investigation around.'
'You think this should be released to the media?'
Delaney pondered that a long time.
'I don't know,' he admitted finally. 'They're going to find out sooner or later. But publicity might frighten the killer off.'
'Or spur her on to more.'
'That's true. Ivar, I'd suggest keeping this under wraps as long as possible. Just to give us a little time to get things organized. But it's not my decision to make.'
'I know,' the Admiral said mournfully, 'it's mine.'
'You volunteered,' the Chief said, shrugging. 'You're now the commanding officer. So command.'
'I'd feel a lot better about this, Edward, if you could be more positive about it. If you could tell me that, yes, you absolutely believe that the killer is definitely a woman.'
'My gut instinct tells me so,' Delaney said solemnly, and both men burst out laughing.
'Well,' Thorsen said, rising, 'I've got to get going. I'll spread the news-at least to the people who count.'
'Ivar, there's no need for the media to know I'm working with you.'
'I agree. But some of the brass will have to know, and some of the politicos. And Sergeant Boone, of course. Call him tomorrow morning. I'll have a system set up by then on how he's to liaise with you.'
'Fine.'
'Edward, I want to tell you how happy I am that you've decided to help out.'
'You're a supersalesman.'
'Not really. You can't sell something to someone who really doesn't want to buy. Not to someone as stubborn as you, anyway. But having you with me makes all the difference in the world. May I use your phone?'
'Of course. Want me to step outside?'
'No, no. I want you to hear this.'
Thorsen dialed a number, waited a moment.
'Mary?' he said. 'It's Ivar Thorsen. Put himself on, will you? He's expecting my call.'
While he waited, the Deputy Commissioner winked at Delaney. Then…
'Timothy?' he said. 'Ivar Thorsen here. All right, Timmy, I'll take the job.'
He hung up and turned to the Chief.
'You bastard!' Delaney gasped. 'You've got to be the biggest son of a bitch who ever came down the pike.'
'So I've been told,' the Admiral said.
After he had shown Thorsen out, Delaney wandered back into the kitchen. Monica was readying a veal roast for the oven, laying on thin strips of fat salt pork. The Chief took a celery stalk from the refrigerator crisper. He leaned against the sink, chomping, watching Monica work.
'I told Ivar I'd help him out on the Hotel Ripper case,' he offered.
She nodded. 'I thought that was probably what he wanted.'
'He's in command now. I'll be working through Abner Boone.'
'Good,' she said unexpectedly. 'I'm glad you'll be busy on something important.'
'Have I been getting in your hair?'
She gave him a quick, mischevious grin. 'Not any more than usual. You told Ivar you think it's a woman?'
'Yes.'
'Did he agree?'
'He didn't agree and he didn't disagree. We'll check it out. He'll want to move cautiously. That's all right; his reputation and career are on the line. He wants to be Police Commissioner some day.'
'I know.'
'You know? How do you know?'
'Karen told me.'
'And you never told me?'
'I thought you knew. Besides, I don't tell you everything.'
'You don't? I tell you everything.'
