I think this killer originally wanted to do better than Jack the Ripper. He wanted to be fancy. Be symbolic. And he failed miserably because, quite frankly, no one gave a damn. At least not the degree of “giving a damn” that would put him into the history books. This could, if he keeps it up. Our job is to make sure he doesn’t.
When will he strike again? I should know, right? I studied the crimes. Yet it’s like not knowing exactly when forensic breakthroughs occurred.My interest was in facts, not dates. I do know the Ripper’s entire killing spree lasted only a month, which means he could take his next victim any time now. This killer will follow the pattern, andhedoes know it. I’m sure of that.
I make notes as Gray rattles off observations. Right-handed killer, judging by the angle of the cuts. Hesitation cuts, as I noted, which supports my personal view that the guy’s heart wasn’t in his work. The stab wounds suggest a thin-bladed knife. There’s no indication that a separate knife was used for the throat. He does, however, find a rope fiber in the neck wound, which he will use under Isla’s microscope to compare to any rope discovered in the investigation.
Gray also examines the clothing for fibers and hairs, explaining as he does that McCreadie is not convinced of the usefulness of this, but Gray has read a French paper postulating potential analysis of fibers, hair, and other particles left at crime scenes. There are no hairs, not even the victim’s, which suggests the killer removed them. When I say as much to Gray, he agrees that’s an excellent idea, but I can tell he doesn’t see why a killer would remove hairs when they can’t yet be analyzed as evidence.
That’s all Gray can get from the body. Then comes the part where he sees how far he can carry me. He tries a few holds before I suggest the firefighter carry—without using that modern term, of course. He agrees that is the most efficient method.
With me slung over his shoulder, Gray walks around the funeral parlor, counting off an impressive two hundred paces before he begins to tire. Then, after catching his breath, he wants to test out stairs. We’re on the second story when Isla throws open the stairwell door. I jump, flailing. Gray only tightens his grip while shooing his sister away with a jerk of his chin.
“You are blocking our path,” he says.
She leans around him to look at me. “Do I even want to ask what you’re doing?”
“Science,” I say.
“I see. And more specifically?”
“The killer moved Rose’s body after he strangled her,” I say. “Before he inflicted the other wounds. She’s roughly my weight, and the killer I saw is smaller than Dr. Gray, so this will provide some idea of how far he could have carried her.”
“Up a flight of stairs?”
“I am accounting for the elevation progression within the city,” Gray says. “Also whether it would have proved overly difficult to carry her down stairs. First, I must get her up them.”
“Uh-huh. Well, do not let Mrs. Wallace see you carrying Catriona over your shoulder. I shudder to imagine what she’d think.”
“I shall explain.”
“No,pleasedon’t. Finish your experiment and join me in the library for tea.”
“Is that an order?” Gray says.
“It is. I invited Hugh to join us, so we may hear his update and share yours.”
“We are very busy, Isla. I am not certain we have time for tea.”
“I picked up cream pastries this morning. Also, coffee, for Catriona, so she may no longer need to sip piteously at your dregs.”
“He hadn’t touched the coffee I drank,” I say. “Which isn’t to say his dregs aren’t tempting.”
“Are they now?”
Her eyes glitter, and I’m glad I’m slung over Gray’s shoulder, so I can make a face at her and roll my eyes.
She laughs and pats my shoulder. “Coffee and tea, cream pastries and lemon cake. Five o’clock in the library. Do not be late.”