Chapter 14: The prototype of a serial killer
The new victim—stage name Jeanne—had short blonde hair, though closer inspection revealed red roots beneath the dye.
According to Samuel's autopsy report, the cause of death was clear: circular nail marks on the neck, bilateral conjunctival hemorrhage, and fracture of the greater horn of the hyoid bone. In layman's terms, she'd been strangled to death. The presence of defensive wounds on her body indicated she'd fought back before succumbing.
That was all Samuel could tell Theodore.
This crime scene was even worse than the last. When Theodore arrived at the hotel, the room was spotlessly clean and reeked of disinfectant. The scene had been thoroughly sanitized—this time, not even a single hair remained for evidence. Even Bernie found it excessive.
Theodore walked out of the hotel in disappointment, clinging to a sliver of hope as he sought out the Old Patrolman. The veteran officer led them to the deceased Jeanne's pimp, C.C.
C.C. was furious, shooting venomous glares at the Old Patrolman throughout their conversation.
"Why did the hotel manager notify you first instead of calling the police?" Theodore asked.
"Jeanne was overdue. Old Johnny thought she was just sleeping, so he came down to get me." C.C. paused here, fixing his stare on the Old Patrolman and emphasizing each word. "Someone should be ensuring the girls' safety!"
The Old Patrolman turned his head away, pretending not to hear.
Theodore pressed on. "Did you see Jeanne's last customer?"
C.C. simply shook his head.
Theodore could tell he was lying. "Jeanne was one of your girls. Every customer hands the money to you before going into the hotel with her. Are you telling me you didn't see the last customer?"
C.C. remained silent.
Bernie cracked his knuckles, grinned menacingly, and pulled out his handcuffs. "You and your girls should all take a trip to the police station."
The Old Patrolman also chimed in, "C.C., they're from the Homicide Team, not like us."
C.C. stayed quiet for a moment. Just as Bernie grabbed his arm, he finally spoke.
"Whoa! Whoa! Okay, okay! I'll talk!"
C.C. exhaled slowly. "It was a young gentleman, a bit drunk, who came with a few friends. They pooled their money for the fee, said it was a birthday gift for his coming of age."
His voice turned bitter. "That kid looked like a virgin. He was especially excited and nervous—wouldn't even dare put his arm around Jeanne's waist, kept sneaking glances at her chest from the side."
Bernie frowned. "Describe his appearance."
C.C. paused to recall. "Very thin, about the same height as Jeanne, brown hair, freckles on his face. It was too dark to see clearly. But they must be rich—they were driving a Cadillac Eldorado."
A Cadillac Eldorado costs over ten thousand dollars. Bernie's annual after-tax salary was less than four thousand.
Bernie and Theodore exchanged glances, while the Old Patrolman beside them had already grabbed his intern partner and started backing away.
Bernie stepped forward and cuffed C.C., pushing him toward the car. "Alright, you're coming with us."
After shoving C.C. into the back seat, he turned to the Old Patrolman. The veteran raised his hands and shouted, "Come on, Sullivan! I helped you! You can't do this to me!"
Bernie bared his teeth in a grin and waved him off. The Old Patrolman looked as if he'd been granted amnesty, thanked him repeatedly, and scrambled into his patrol car, disappearing in a cloud of exhaust.
Once they were gone, Bernie finally explained to Theodore, "There's only one Cadillac Eldorado in all of Felton, registered under the city government's name. The city council purchased it last year specifically to host the governor."
He slid into the driver's seat. "We need to go back and find Wenner."
Theodore agreed with Bernie's assessment.
From the back seat, C.C. scoffed, "I told you who the murderer is. Why aren't you going to arrest him? Instead, you're arresting me?"
No one bothered to respond.
Bernie was contemplating the implications of a city council member's son soliciting prostitution and committing murder, while Theodore pondered the identity of the real killer.
He didn't believe the virgin C.C. had described was the murderer. He even suspected the person who killed Jeanne was the same one who'd killed Candy. However, he wasn't sure he could convince Wenner to treat them as connected cases.
Upon returning to the police station, their arrival with a suspect drew attention from several members of the Homicide Team. Bernie simply had C.C. locked in the interrogation room while he and Theodore went to report to Wenner.
After listening to Bernie's account, Wenner pondered for a moment and looked at Theodore. "What's your opinion?"
Theodore organized his thoughts. "I don't think this young man is the murderer."
Wenner looked up at him while Bernie subtly tugged at Theodore's clothes.
Theodore continued, "A young man coming to Rose Street for the first time to solicit prostitution, who respects Jeanne and doesn't just treat her as a tool for satisfying desires—how could such a person evolve to personally strangle her to death within just one hour?"
"Moreover, this might be his first time. Who takes over an hour on their first time?"
Bernie couldn't help but chuckle, and Wenner showed a brief, strange smile before becoming serious again.
"These are just speculations, without substantive evidence. That C.C. is an eyewitness." He paused, suppressing his smile. "Perhaps the young man is just exceptionally... gifted."
Theodore shook his head. "This doesn't conform to objective patterns. Considering the nervousness and excitement he displayed, it would be impressive if he lasted two minutes."
The office fell silent for two seconds. Wenner cleared his throat and tapped his desk. "Alright, now isn't the time to discuss this."
He stood up. "Whether it's him or not, we'll know once we bring the person in for questioning."
Wenner didn't have Bernie and Theodore retrieve the suspect. He didn't even send anyone from the Homicide Team. Instead, he called the Patrol Department. "Hello, Deputy Police Chief Cahill, this is..."
Bernie and Theodore quietly exited the office.
Theodore wrote and sketched in his notebook for a while, then whispered to Bernie, "I suspect this is a serial killer."
Bernie, who had been studying cold cases, looked up with a blank expression. "A what?"
The term "serial killer" didn't exist yet. They referred to perpetrators of multiple crimes as repeat murderers or multiple murderers. Within the judicial system, the term "habitual violent offender" was used.
"A series killer," Theodore explained. "Previously, I theorized that Candy's death was accidental—caused during a robbery. Her customer robbed her, accidentally killed her, then ransacked the place and left."
"But after killing Candy, he placed her on the bed and even covered her with a blanket."
"This behavior is extremely similar to what happened with Jeanne."
Bernie didn't question the coined term "serial killer," but he did challenge the theory. "Didn't the manager of the Starlight Hotel put Candy on the bed?"
Theodore shook his head. "He must have lied."
He explained, "Candy worked alone. Her income that night should have been in her bag, perhaps along with some personal items. The hotel manager secretly took them and claimed he never saw them."
Bernie was silent for a moment, then asked cautiously, "Did she tell you this?"
Theodore hadn't expected that question and didn't know how to respond.
Seeing Theodore's expression, Bernie felt somewhat relieved. "That's just one possibility. Another possibility is that Candy's customer robbed her, and this rich kid was dissatisfied with Jeanne's service and strangled her."
He spread his hands. "The only connection between these two prostitutes' deaths is that they happened close together, and you happened to encounter both cases."
Theodore couldn't find words to refute the logic.
If they had evidence, they might be able to question the Starlight Hotel manager to verify his theory, but they had nothing concrete. As expected, the hotel manager would certainly never admit to theft.