Sachs shook her head, eyes troubled. "I was upset enough thinking that some of the cops from the One One Eight were taking kickbacks from mobsters. And all along they were the actual killers."
Rhyme glanced at her. He knew she'd be thinking of Nick Carelli. Thinking of her father too.
Duncan continued. "Then Baker said there was a new problem. He needed someone else eliminated, a woman detective. But they couldn't kill her themselves--if she died everyone'd know it was because of her investigation and they'd follow up on the case even more intensely. I came up with this idea of pretending to be a serial killer. And I made up a name--the Watchmaker."
Sellitto said, "That's why there were no hits in the watchmaker trade associations." They'd all come back negative on a Gerald Duncan.
"Right. The character was all a creation of mine. And I needed someone to feed you information and make you think there really was a psycho, so I found Vincent Reynolds. Then we started the supposed attacks. The first two I faked, when Vincent wasn't around. The others--when he was with me--I bungled them on purpose.
"I had to make sure you found the box of bullets that'd connect the Watchmaker to Baker. I was going to drop them somewhere so you'd find them. But"--Duncan gave a laugh--"as it turned out, I didn't have to. You found out about the SUV and nearly got us."
"So that's why you left the ammunition inside."
"Yep. The book too."
Another thought occurred to Rhyme. "And the officer who searched the garage said it was curious you parked out in the open, not at the doorway. That was because you had to make sure we found the Explorer."
"Exactly. And all the other supposed crimes were just leading up to this one--so you could catch Baker in the act of trying to kill her. That'd give you probable cause, I figured, to search his car and house and find evidence to put him away."
"What about the poem? 'The full Cold Moon . . . '"
"I wrote it myself." Duncan smiled. "I'm a better businessman than a poet. But it seemed sufficiently scary to suit my needs."
"Why'd you pick these particular people as victims?"
"I didn't. I picked the locations because they'd allow us to get away quickly. This last one, the woman here, was because I needed a good layout to flush out Baker."
"Revenge for your friend?" Sachs asked. "A lot of other people would just've had him killed outright."
Duncan said sincerely, "I'd never hurt anybody. I couldn't do that. I might bend the law a bit--I admit I committed some crimes here. But they were victimless. I didn't even steal the cars; Baker got them himself--from a police pound."
"The woman who was the first victim's supposed sister?" Sachs asked. "Who was she?"
"A friend I asked to help. I lent her a lot of money a few years ago but there was no way she could repay it. So she agreed to help me out."
"And the girl in the car with her?" Sachs asked.
"Her real daughter."
"What's the woman's name?"
A rueful smile. "I'll keep that to myself. Promised her I would. Just like the guy in the club who set me up with Baker. That was part of the deal and I'm sticking to it."
"Who else is involved in the shakedowns at the One One Eight, other than Baker?"
Duncan shook his head regretfully. "I wish I could tell you. I want them put away as much as Baker. I tried to find out. He wouldn't talk about his scheme. But I got the impression there's somebody involved other than the officers from the precinct."
"Somebody else?"
"That's right. High up."
"From Maryland or with a place there?" Sachs asked.
"I never heard him mention that. He trusted me but only up to a point. I don't think he was worried about my turning him in; it seemed like he was afraid I'd get greedy and go after the money myself. It sounded like there was a lot of it."
A dark-colored city car pulled up to the police tape and a slim, balding man in a thin overcoat climbed out. He joined Rhyme and the others. He was a senior assistant district attorney. Rhyme had testified at several of the trials the man had prosecuted. The criminalist nodded a greeting and Sellitto explained the latest developments.
The prosecutor listened to the bizarre turn the case had taken. Most of the perps he put away were stupid Tony Soprano sorts or even more stupid crackheads and punks. He seemed amused to find himself with a brilliant criminal--whose crimes, as it turned out, were not nearly as serious as it seemed. What excited him far more than a serial killer was the career-making prosecution of a deadly corruption scam in the police department.