Which gives us a few minutes.” Cursing, Bollinger shook the door,
putting all his strength into it. It wouldn’t budge.
“What good will a few minutes do us?” Connie asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Graham, are we ever going to get out of here?”
“Probably not.”
iss Dr. Andrew Enderby, the medical examiner on the scene, was suave,
even dashing, extremely fit for a man in his fifties. He had thick hair
going white at the temples. Clear brown eyes. A long aristocratic
nose, generally handsome features. His salt-and-pepper mustache was
large but well kept. He was wearing a tailored gray suit with
tastefully matched accessories that made Preduski’s sloppiness all the
more apparent.
“Hello, Andy,” Preduski said.
“Number eleven,” Enderby said. “Unusual. Like numbers five, seven and
eight.” When Enderby was excited, which wasn’t often, he was impatient
to express himself. He sometimes spoke in staccato bursts.
He pointed at the kitchen table and said, “See it? No butter smears.
No jelly stains. No crumbs. Too damned neat. Another fake.”
A tab technician was disconnecting the garbagedisposal unit from the
pipes under the sink.
“Why?” Preduski said. “Why does he fake it when he isn’t hungry?”
“I know why. Sure of it.”
“So tell me,” Preduski said.
“First of all, did you know I’m a psychiatrist?”
“You’re a coroner, a pathologist.”
“Psychiatrist too.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Went to medical school. Did my internship. Specialized in
otolaryngology. Couldn’t stand it. Hideous way to make a living. My
family had money. Didn’t have to work. Went back to medical school.
Became a psychiatrist.”
“That must be interesting work.”
“Fascinating. But I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand associating with
the patients.”
“Oh?”
All day with a bunch of neurotics. Began to feel that half’l’f of them
should be locked up. Got out of the field fast. Better for me and the
patients.”
“I should say so.”
“Kicked around a bit. Twenty years ago, I became a police pathologist.”
“The dead aren’t neurotic.”
“Not even a little bit.”
“And they don’t have ear, nose and throat infections.”
“Which they don’t pass on to me,” Enderby said. “No money in this job,
of course. But I’ve got all the money I need. And the work is right
for me. I’m perfect for the work, too. My psychiatric training gives
me a iss different perspective. Insights. I have insights that other
pathologists might not have. Like the one I had tonight.”
“About why the Butcher sometimes eats a hearty meal and sometimes fakes
a hearty meal?”
“Yes,” Enderby said. He took a breath. Then: “It’s because there are
two of him.”
Preduski scratched his head. “Schizophrenia?”
“No, no. I mean … there isn’t just one man running around killing
women. There are two.” He smiled triumphantly.
Preduski stared at him.
Slamming his fist into his open hand, Enderby said, “I’m right! I know
I am. Butcher number one killed the first four victims. Killing them
gave him an appetite. Butcher number two killed the fifth woman.
Cut her up as Butcher number one had done. But he was ever so slightly
more tender-hearted than the first Butcher. Killing spoiled his
appetite. So he faked the meal.”
“Why bother to fake it?”
“Simple. He wanted to leave no doubt about who killed her.
Wanted us to think it was the Butcher.”
Preduski was suddenly aware of how precisely Enderby’s necktie had been
knotted. He touched his own tie self-consciously. “Pardon me.
Excuse me. I don’t quite understand. My fault. God knows. But, you
see, we’ve never told the newspapers about the scene in the kitchens.
We’ve held that back to check false confessions against real ones. If
this guy, Butcher number two, wanted to imitate the real Butcher, how
would he know about the kitchen?”
“You’re missing my point.”
“I’m sure I am.”
“Butcher number one and Butcher number two know each other.
They’re in this together.”
Amazed, Preduski said, “They’re friends? You mean they-go out and
murder-like other men go out bowling? ”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“They’re killing women, trying to make it look like the work of one
man?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. Maybe they’re creating a composite character in the
Butcher. Giving us an image of a killer that isn’t really like either