worth a try. There just might be something, it just might be that our guy buys into all that stuff, that it will give us some clues about him.'
'Hell,' said Captain Dougherty, 'use a psychic if you think it might help. A trained cat, if you've got one.'
Savich laughed, not at all insulted. 'I know it sounds weird, but you know as well as I do that people can be loonier than the Mad Hatter.'
'I didn't catch your name,' Ralph Budnack said, staring at Lacey, 'but I've seen you before. Now I've got it. You came in here claiming to be related to the victim.' He turned to Savich, his jaw working. 'You want to tell me what the hell is going on here?'
'Calm down, Ralph. It's all very understandable. Her sister was killed seven years ago in San Francisco by this guy. That's why she realized so fast that he'd struck again. That's why she came up here. Thanks to her, we're on to him immediately. Now, you don't have to worry about her. She works for me. I'll have her under control.'
Captain Dougherty was staring at her, chewing harder on the unlit cigar. 'I don't want any vigilante stuff here, Agent Sherlock. You got that? You even tiptoe outside the boundaries and I'll bust you hard. I don't care if you're FBI. I wouldn't care if you were Hoover himself. It appears to me that Savich would bust you too. I wouldn't want to go in the ring with him.'
'I understand, sir.' Why did Dillon have to tell them the truth? She could have lied her way out of it. She caught his eye and realized he knew exactly what she was thinking. He didn't want her to lie anymore. Well, bully for him. It hadn't been his sister who'd been butchered; it hadn't been him to have nightmares horrible enough to wake you up wheezing, knowing that you were dying, that someone was close, really close, nearly close enough to kill you. She wanted to throw him through the window, although it looked as though it had been painted shut.
Now Budnack would tell the other cops who she was and what she'd done, and no one would trust her as far as the corner.
'I hope we'll find out something about this seven-year thing,' Savich said. 'It also occurred to me that he knows how to build sets and props. Not just build them, but he has to transport them to the buildings where he intends to commit the murders. They must be constructed to fold pretty small to fit in a car trunk or in a van. That means he has to be proficient at least at minimal construction.
'Also, surely a truck would have been remarked upon. And he must do it in the middle of the night to cut way down on the chance of being seen. It's possible that the seven business will correlate to building things. Who knows?'
'Like a propman in the theater,' Lacey said slowly, hope soaring.
'Could be,' Savich said. 'Let's get the rest of the goodies in the program, then see what we come up with. He stood. 'Gentlemen, anything else?'
'Yes,' Ralph Budnack said. 'I want to help you input into this magic program of yours.'
'You got it,' Savich said and shook his hand.
The three of them took turns until late in the afternoon. Savich said, 'There, that about takes care of it. Now let me tell MAX to stretch his brain and see what he can find for us. I inputted every instance of the number seven I could find. For example, two of the murders were committed on the seventh day of the week. Another murder was committed in the seventh month of the year. Sounds pretty far-out, but we'll see. The real key is the seven-year cycle and the fact that he killed seven women. MAX has more to work with here than he's ever had before. Also I gave MAX another bone-the construction angle.' His fingers moved quickly over the keys. Then he grinned up at Lacey, and pressed ENTER.
'That computer your kid?' Ralph Budnack asked.
'You'd think so,' Savich said. 'But no, MAX is a partner, and by no means a silent one.' He patted the keyboard very lightly. 'Nope, I'll have some real kids one of these days.'
'You married?'
'No. Ah, here we go. MAX's first effort. Let me print it out.'
There were only two pages.
Savich grinned at them. 'Take a look, guys.'
13
THE PLEIADES?' Ralph Budnack looked ready to cry. 'We spent four hours inputting stuff and we get the Pleiades? What the hell are the Pleiades?'
'The seven daughters of Atlas and Pleione,' Lacey read. 'They're a group of stars, put in the sky by Zeus. Orion is behind them, chasing them.'
'This is nuts,' Ralph said.
'Keep reading,' Savich said. 'Just keep reading.'
Lacey looked up, her face shining. 'He's an astronomer, he's got to be. That or he's an astrologer or into numerology, with astronomy as a hobby.'
Ralph Budnack said, 'Maybe he's a college professor, teaching mythology. He builds furniture on the side, as a hobby.'
'At least there appears to be something in the seven scenario,' Savich said, laying down page two. 'We've got some leads. I've got a couple of other ideas, but Ralph, you and your guys can start checking this all out. Chances are, according to the Profilers, that the guy has been here at least six months, but less than a year. Enough time, in other words, for him to scout out all the places he's going to take his victims.'
'Good point,' Budnack said, rubbing his hands together. 'My other team members are interviewing everyone they can scrape up from the Congress Street area. I'll pull them off to do this.'
When Lacey and Savich were alone, she said, 'You're having a problem with all this, aren't you?'
'This whole business with the seven sisters of the Pleiades, it just seems too easy, too obvious.'
'Why? It took MAX to come up with it. The SFPD didn't come up with it. The Profilers didn't either. Also, it's a seven-year interval between killings. He kills seven women at each cycle. Two sevens is a goodly number of sevens.'
Savich stood up and stretched, then he scratched his stomach. 'You're probably right. I'm just dragged down because MAX got it and we didn't. But you know, I've got this itch in my belly. Whenever I've gotten this itch in the past, there's been something I've missed.
'I need to go to the gym. Working out clears my brain. You want to come along? I won't tromp you this time. In fact, I'll start work on your deltoids.'
'I didn't bring any workout stuff. Besides, I plan to protect my deltoids with my life.'
The cops tracked down four possible suspects within the next twenty-four hours-two of them astrologers who'd come to Boston during the past year, two of them numerologists. Both the numerologists had come during the past year from southern California. They didn't arrest any of them. Budnack, Savich, and Lacey met later that day in Captain Dougherty's office.
'No big deal about that,' Ralph Budnack said, frowning. 'All the nuts come from southern California.'
'So does Julia Roberts,' Savich said.
'Point taken,' Budnack said and grinned. 'So what do you think, Savich? It just doesn't feel right with any of these guys. Plus two of them have pretty good alibis. We found a homeless guy, Mr. Rick, he's called, who said he saw a guy going in and out of the warehouse on Congress. He said he was all bundled up and he wondered about that since it was really warm that night, said it was so warm he didn't even have to sleep in his box. Said he hadn't seen him before.'
'Any more specifics about the man?' Lacey asked. 'Anything about what he looked like?'
'Just that he looked kind of scrawny, a direct quote from Mr. Rick. Whatever that means. Mr. Rick is pretty big. Scrawny just might mean anything smaller than six foot. I might add that only one of the four guys we picked up could
be called scrawny, and he's got the strongest alibi.'
Savich had wandered away. He was pacing, head down, seemingly staring at the linoleum floor.
'He's thinking,' she said in answer to Captain Dougherty's unasked question.
'Your sister was really offed by this guy?'
'Yes. It's been seven years. But you never forget.'
'Is that why you got into the FBI?'
'I didn't know what else to do. I went to school and learned a bit about all the areas in forensics, then I
