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“I’d say so,” the doctor agreed. “Unless the newspapers gave a very detailed description of the injuries that each victim suffered.”
“No, there was nothing like that in the press or on TV. Tell me, Art, could the Ripper have killed Walsh by accident? That would support the idea that he mutilated her postmortem in a rage. You know, he’s all set to work on her then she has the audacity to die on him. That could have set him off.”
“As I said, anything is possible, but I don’t really see the killing being committed by mistake. It’s like a rapist who claims he slipped and his dick accidentally penetrated the victim. This was a pretty precise thrust.”
Evans scowled then shook his head. “Thanks for ruining my day.”
“Hey, don’t blame me. I just work here.”
“As if I didn’t have enough to do, now I may have to find two killers.”
“You’ll solve the case, Keith. Remember, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these…Oh, wait, that’s the postmen. What do you boys do when it snows and rains?”
“We go after the bad guys. Some days, though, are easier than others.”
Part Four.Rotting Corpses and Severed Digits
Oregon
Chapter Seventeen
On Saturday morning, Brad Miller drove to Salem for his second meeting with Clarence Little. Gi
“Are you nuts?” Brad had replied when Gi
“I’ll be perfectly safe,” Gi
“That’s not the point. I don’t want him knowing you exist. What if he gets out somehow?”
“I don’t think freedom is in Mr. Little’s future, Brad. He’s serving three death sentences.”
“I don’t want to take any chances.”
“That’s sweet,” Gi
Out of desperation, Brad played his trump card. “Look, Gi
Gi
Gi
On Brad’s second trip to the prison there were different visitors in the waiting room, but they had the same look of tired desperation and fake joy as the women he’d waited with the first time he’d visited Clarence Little. When his name was called he felt like an old hand as he navigated the metal detector, walked down the ramp to the visitors’ area, and arrived in the noncontact room reserved for visitors to death row inmates. He should have been thinking about his meeting while he waited for the guards to bring his client. Instead, Gi
The door opened and the guards escorted Little into the cramped space on the other side of the glass. When Little saw Brad he smiled. The smile might have simply been the inmate’s way of greeting a visitor, but Brad suspected that it signified Little’s satisfaction with his victory in their battle of wills.
Little and Brad picked up their phones as soon as the guards disappeared.
“Thank you for visiting again,” Little said. “You have no idea how boring it is sitting in my cell all day with nothing to do. Every break in my routine is a wonderful gift.”
“I’m glad I’ve brightened your day, Mr. Little,” Brad answered brusquely. “But I’m here to find out where you hid the pinkies so I can try to clear your name in the Laurie Erickson case.”
Little’s smile widened. “I knew I was right to trust you.”
“Yes, so, where are they?” Brad asked, anxious to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.
“Before I tell you where I’ve hidden my keepsakes, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”
Brad rolled his eyes. “This isn’t going to be like Silence of the Lambs is it? You’re not expecting me to trade intimate details about my life for clues to the whereabouts of the pinkies?”
Little laughed. “Not at all. I’m just not in a rush to go back to my cell, and I think I’m entitled to know a bit more about the qualifications of someone to whom I’m entrusting my life.”
“Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Your accent suggests that you grew up on the East Coast.”
“New York. Long Island, actually.”
“And did you go to college in New York?”
“Hofstra.”
“What was your major?”
“English.”
“That’s not a very practical major. Why not something in the sciences or engineering?”
“I’m not very good at math or science and I like to read.”
“A good choice then. Where did you go to law school?”
“Fordham.”
“Didn’t you have the grades to get into Columbia or NYU?”
“My grades were fine, but I don’t do well on standardized tests. Look can we get back to the pinkies?”
“I see your patience is ru
“Okay, I’ve had enough. I don’t think there is a pinkie collection. I think you’re having fun at my expense.”
“If there’s no pinkie collection what happened to them?”
“You know, Mr. Little, I don’t care. I’m going now. I’ll do my best on your brief and I’ll argue your appeal, but I’m not going to waste my time and the time of my firm playing bullshit mind games with you.”
Brad stood up and Little started to laugh.
“Sit down. I’m fucking with you. I liked Silence of the Lambs, although it’s totally unrealistic. All those serial killer movies are ridiculous. I can’t sit through most of that shit. Watching them is like a busman’s holiday anyway.”
Brad stared through the glass, unsure of how to respond.
“Sit down, please. I wanted to see just how long I could string you along with this act. I don’t even talk like this. I even comb my hair differently when I’m not meeting with you. I was just doing my best Ha