Serial killings are referred to as ritual crimes by law enforcement because the killers tend to repeat the same behavior over and over again. Sure, they refine it, learning from their mistakes, but once they develop a pattern, it becomes as individual as fingerprints. The murders have a signature to them, and the Deathdealer's John Hancock was big, red and tough to miss.
As splashy as it was, though, it was also easy to imitate.
The files that had been hacked from local law enforcement computers gave detailed descriptions of how the Deathdealer operated. Read in chronological order, the files even showed how he was adapting and evolving. The first victim was an exotic dancer and, while she was in college studying to enter medical school, law enforcement generally listed her occupation as high risk for sex-related crimes. None of her acquaintances even hinted at the idea that she might have been turning tricks - in fact, they all said she was very kind-hearted and a bit naive. The police quickly assumed she might have fallen for a helplessness ploy - such as when Ted Bundy would put a fake cast on his arm to get coeds to help him carry his books to his car.
A couple of the Deathdealer attacks had occurred in the victims' homes, and there were no signs of forced entry, so this murder certainly fit the pattern that had been reported. Since Jensen didn't think this was a Deathdealer murder, but someone trying to make it look like it was, and since most murderers know their victims, the immediate task would be to rule out close acquaintances. With any luck at all, the killer would be someone with access to the home, and a motive for wanting Syndi Rooker dead.
If we were not lucky, the killer would be some demented copycat, which meant more blood was likely to spill. Face it, anyone nuts enough to copy a serial killer's method of operation, is nuts enough to want to rack up more kills and become something more than the person he was imitating.
Agent Jensen was able to get us a lot of information on Syndi Rooker, including the sort of headshot publicity photos that the papers run. They weren't hard to look at in the least. She'd been a very pretty woman, with a softness to her features and big doe eyes. She wore her blonde hair short and there was something familiar about her. I knew I'd seen her before in Phoenix, but it could have been just seeing the picture in the paper or watching her be interviewed on TV.
She had done a fair amount of local media. Her company, Thothsoft.com, had developed an integrated internet browser that allowed users to chat over it while surfing the web. Acquaintances would show up as icons running down the left side of the display - and the icons could be customized with their own picture, or, more often, the image of some movie star or supermodel. Click on the icon and you send instant private messages. Type into a dialog box and everyone gets your message. And if everyone has slaved their software to yours, you get to drive them on a tour around the web -allowing for virtual shopping junkets or student field trips. The software was called Voyager, though plenty called it Voyeur, since using it for tours of sex-sites was popular.
Rumors abounded about the company and what it was going to do. Rooker was reported to be in negotiations with Microsoft to acquire the company, though AOL-Time-Warner was said to be coming up with another offer. Everyone else, from AT&T to Oracle, likewise was interested, and shares of Thothsoft.com had been bucking the trend of dot-coms crashing and burning.
I read over the data on Rooker and made tea - Ti Kuan Yin for Bloodstone, a black tea blend flavored with feijoa for Agent Jensen and Lapsang Souchong for me - while Bloodstone went up to the third floor and returned with a deck of tarot cards in hand. He had quite a collection of them up in his sanctuary and not a month went by that a new deck or other didn't show up in the office. Bloodstone had two or three favorites, including a very ornate Russian deck, that he used to impress high-paying clients.
Bloodstone quickly stripped out of the deck the cards that had been deposited on Syndi Rooker's body. He placed them carefully on his mahogany desk - which was a control tower shy of being able to have planes landed on it - recreating the spread. He pondered over it, the size of his desk making him look a lot like a child chess-prodigy studying a board. His concentration did not waver as I slid his tea onto the desk.
The rectangular office really deserves describing. The north wall and the longer east wall are floor to ceiling with bookshelves. The ceiling actually goes up to the height of the second floor rooms, and there is a doorway to a second story corridor in the middle of the east wall. A cast-iron spiral staircase in the room's southeast corner provides access to the catwalk serving the upper section of the shelves. The west wall is pretty much all window, looking out toward the north side of Camelback Mountain. From the catwalk it would have been just barely possible to see the Rooker house. The south wall runs from the staircase to the wetbar by the windows. It's mostly a brag wall, with plaques and photos of Bloodstone with the rich and famous adorning it. The doorway to the foyer is set in the middle of the photo forest.
Bloodstone's desk is centered against the backdrop of the north wall. My desk, which is much smaller, sits in the southwest corner, so I can attend the wet bar and make tea as needed. In the middle of the room a tan leather couch faces Bloodstone's desk at a slight angle, and a phalanx of three rust-colored leather chairs defend the desk. Little end-tables sit between the chairs and one long coffee table fronts the couch. All the furnishings, including the black bust of Edgar Allen Poe in the northeast corner, have been positioned according to the dictates of Feng Shui. I'm not sure that really makes a difference in how the office functions, but when some folks are told about it, they smile and seem to calm down.
Bloodstone tapped a finger against the desktop. "Our killer is quite clever. I will use male pronouns to describe him, though I am not convinced of his gender. I am aware, of course, that the crime scene would indicate a crime of rage, but since our killer is aping the Deathdealer, that passion could be simulated. I suspect it was not feigned, though, not entirely. The killer did a good job. He followed the formula save in one area. These cards tell a tale."
Agent Jensen set her mug on the corner of Bloodstone's desk and came around to stand beside him. "I don't see it."
"Perhaps not, though not because of any lack of intellect. The Halloween Tarot swaps symbols on the cards. Pentacles or coins become pumpkins, swords become bats, cups become ghosts and wands become imps."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "That doesn't help much."
"No, I suppose it does not." He looked up at me. "Connor?"
I shook my head. "From my perspective everything's inverted, so I'd just read it wrong anyway."
"It's fairly simple, and obviously constructed. Rooker is represented by the Queen of Bats. This is a woman who is solitary, usually seen as smart and creative. She's not averse to confrontation and can even be aggressive."
I nodded. "Fits Rooker."
"Seemingly, yes. The rest of the cards illuminate her circumstance and possibly even identify the killer." Bloodstone pointed to each card in turn of the trio crisscrossed at the heart of the spread. "She is covered by the Knight of Imps inverted, taking a blond, blue-eye man from being a generous and energized friend and lover to a jealous creature who is disruptive and frustrating. The crossing card is the two of pumpkins, indicating she was juggling things, looking for a balance. The fact that the Knight is covering her - and the killer chose to use the term covering in one of its more earthy connotations - would suggest she was part of a love triangle."
He shifted his attention to the four cards arrayed around the trio. He started with the card above, then moved counter clockwise. "She was hoping for the four of Imps, which indicates prosperity and possible romance. Of recent import is the three of Bats, suggesting betrayal and grief. In the foundation position we have The Lovers, one of the major arcana that can be interpreted literally, or as a card of temptation and seduction. And for the near future we have the card Death. It is a harbinger of change. These cards taken together would paint of picture of a woman leaving a treacherous lover and moving into a new and prosperous era with romantic prospects."
Jensen pointed at the four cards arrayed on the side. "These four are read as a unit, correct?"
"Very good, Agent Jensen. The five of Pumpkins shows the victim was at a turning point and in some distress. The six of Imps tells us that her friends thought she would be making the correct decision and would win out. The Moon is in a position to represent what she feared, and it is a card of deception. The werewolf image on this card may be descriptive of someone she knew changing fearfully, becoming violent. And then the last card, the Haunted Tower, this is a card of disaster. Inverted, as it is, just makes it worse."
The FBI agent sipped her tea. "That makes for quite a story. Basically she ditches the Knight of Imps because he's a weasel and he kills her. Now we just have to figure out who the Knight of Imps is."
"And then we would figure out who the killer wants to frame for her killing." Bloodstone frowned. "Or, is he the killer and frames himself so he can claim he was framed if caught? As I said, he is clever."
I smiled. "You'll just have to be more clever."
"Oh, I am, much more." Bloodstone steepled his fingers and perched his chin on them. "Once we know if Syndi Rooker dyed her hair, and who knew it, we will have our killer."