She raised a brow. “I assume you checked the number the call originated from.”
“I did. It’s an unregistered cell phone that appears to be turned off. Same as the others.”
“Georgia was also called, as was the owner of the hardware store. I think I remember his name was Buck. Do we know how they received their calls?” she asked.
“The call to Georgia went to her cell, which didn’t stand out as odd because the person she spoke to told her he was from the theater company that had been hired to put on the murder mystery tomorrow night. The call to Buck went directly to the landline at his hardware store,” Colt answered.
Sydney set the stack of photos she’d been looking at down and picked up another stack. “It sounds as if this person is either a local or, if not a local, a visitor who has been around long enough to know that Georgia had hired the theater company and that your cell phone number was accessible. At this point, my money is on the killer being a resident. Assuming this is true, I have to wonder why now. Why did this person who has probably been living in the same town as his victims for some amount of time start killing now? And why link the deaths to the clam bake via the plastic clam each victim held?”
“I suppose something about the clam bake could be the trigger,” I offered. “Like maybe something happened to this person at last year’s clam bake that was never resolved emotionally. Maybe as the weeklong event neared, it triggered whatever rage he’d been holding inside to that point, and he snapped.”
Sydney smiled at me. “That’s actually a good theory to a point. The murders are neat. They are precise and organized.” She looked down at the photos. “The men were injected with a mixture that will kill them almost immediately. Once they are dead, all the bodies are moved to a location that I believe must have importance of some sort. Once the bodies are posed and the clues left, the killer calls someone to make sure the bodies are found, and he seems to care who finds them and when. I haven’t had the chance to inspect the bodies, but it appears that none of the men were beaten or tortured.” She looked at Colt. “I’m assuming there was no sign of sexual assault.”
“That’s correct. There’s no sign that the men had been held for any length of time before being killed. The medical examiner didn’t find any ligature marks to indicate that either their hands or ankles had been tied. Additionally, as you just indicated, there is zero evidence that the men were beaten or abused in any way. My feeling is that the killer knew these men and this allowed him to be in close proximity to them. He injected them with the serum, causing them to fall to the ground and eventually die. Then he moved and posed them. Shortly after the men were posed, he made the call to whoever he wanted to find the body.”
“So what’s the deal with the clams?” I asked.
“When considered as a set, pride, greed, and lust generally indicate that the killer is fixated on morality. Those specific terms bring to mind the seven deadly sins. It’s a commonly used theme which, in my opinion, has been overused, but I can see the appeal.”
“Seven deadly sins? So does that mean that there will be four more murders?” Colt asked.
Sydney nodded. “If my assumption at this point is correct, then yes, it is likely there will be four more murders.”
“Like hell,” he spat. “There’s no way I’m going to let this guy kill four more people.”
“I agree that it needs to stop now.” She paused and then continued. “You said that clam bake was a weeklong event. Weeklong as in seven days?”
“Five, actually,” Colt said. “The first day of events was yesterday, Wednesday, and the events run through Sunday.”
“If the clam bake is the instigating event, as I suspect, then it’s likely the other four murders will occur at some point between now and Sunday afternoon. That gives us almost no time to figure this out.” She glanced toward the photos on the table. “I know a woman, Genevieve. She works for Ezra and is just about the best darn hacker on the planet. If you need information of any sort, she can get it. I can call her if you want. She might be willing to help narrow things down a bit.”
“I would welcome her help if she’s willing,” Colt said.
“Okay.” Sydney took her cell phone from her purse. “Give me a few minutes.” With that, she left the room.
“So what do you think is going on?” I asked Colt after Sydney had left the office.
His lips tightened. “I’m not sure. When the only victim was Oliver Halifax, I thought there was some validity to the idea that his death might be due to his involvement with the town council and the debate over the proposed resort. When Henry Goodman died, I considered other options, but since Henry was involved in politics and the resort project, I still figured we’d find our killer by traveling down that particular highway. But Stan Fairfield is a dentist. I’m not sure how he fits the profile if the resort and the upcoming vote is at the heart of things.”
“He might be an investor,” I suggested.
Colt bobbed his head. “Perhaps. That’s something I can look into. But if the resort and the upcoming vote are the motives, then why the clams? I feel like the killer is trying to send us down the
