“Such a question. No one has been identified… and this is perhaps the most peculiar thing about our case. In this day and age, it seems almost an impossibility.” Inspector Fynn moved back to his chair and sat with a slightly audible sigh. “There is one other curious facet…” he said and let the comment linger. “I’ve come to call it the geographical clue. It seems that all these locations have a long history of disappearances.”
“Which means what exactly?” I asked.
“An inordinate number of people have gone missing from these areas. Some of the reports go back to the nineteen seventies.”
“Are you saying it’s a generational thing? A generational serial killer?”
“I do not wish to speculate, but I do wonder if your town has such a history.”
“Hmm…” Chief Arantez considered. “You’d have to go back a lot of years to find a missing persons case around these parts.”
“It may be the killer has crossed to your side of the ocean,” Fynn said.
“The coastal killer?”
The inspector glared at me again. Clearly, I was not getting off on the right foot with this guy.
The chief turned to Durbin. “Dick, what do we have so far on our end?”
Detective Durbin squirmed in his seat. “Not a whole lot yet. We ran the prints on both our victims. Nothing in the system. No missing persons either. We’re running DNA, and dental records, but I’m not holding out high hopes.” He paused. “Forensics finished their preliminary report on our second victim, Jane Doe number two. No trace evidence. The only weird thing was her clothes. They couldn’t track the manufacturer. One of the tech boys theorizes she was wearing her mom’s or her grandma’s jogging suit.” Durbin took a breath and looked at me for some unknown reason. “We did trace the key found on yesterday’s victim. Belongs to a muscle car, circa nineteen seventy-four, a Pontiac Le Mans or a T-37. Kind of a tough car to hide in this town. We should spot it soon enough.”
“This is the first important clue we have,” Inspector Fynn said with some excitement. “Other than the clothes they wore, all the other victims had no personal effects, not even jewelry. There is the idea that the killer is deliberately trying to thwart efforts at identification.”
“What about shoes?” I asked.
The inspector looked at me as if I were an insect or something, but also gave me a friendly smile. “No shoes. Every victim was barefoot.”
I glanced at Durbin and grinned. Wasn’t such a bad headline after all.
“How about fingerprints, DNA on your side of the pond, Inspector Fynn?” Chief Arantez asked.
“As I’ve said, none of the victims have been identified. And none of them correspond to any missing persons.” Fynn turned to face Durbin. “What about your coroner’s report?”
“Cause of death undetermined. Time of death: approximately four a.m.”
“Wait, what time?” I asked.
“Somewhere between three thirty and four.”
I pulled out my old tide chart. “Hmm.”
“What?” Durbin asked.
I tossed the pamphlet down onto the chief’s desk. “Low tide.”
“So?”
“So, the footprints… they couldn’t have just been washed away.”
Inspector Fynn took some interest in our conversation. “I’m not sure I follow this.”
I turned to him. “We found footprints that just stopped, like the tide washed them clean, only the water didn’t come up that high until much later.”
“May I see these footprints? You have photographs?”
I turned to Durbin. He gave me a noncommittal shrug. I had made copies of the crime scene photos, probably not my best idea. I glanced over to the chief expecting an angry reaction but got none. I reached into my satchel and took out the printouts. Inspector Fynn looked them over carefully.
“Ah, these are Italian shoes…”
“How can you tell?”
“The curve here, and the heel… Who else could design such a beautiful shoe?” Fynn paused to study the photo in detail.
“Which means what exactly?” I asked.
“An inordinate number of people have gone missing from these areas. Some of the reports go back to the nineteen seventies.”
“Are you saying it’s a generational thing? A generational serial killer?”
“I do not wish to speculate, but I do wonder if your town has such a history.”
“Hmm…” Chief Arantez considered. “You’d have to go back a lot of years to find a missing persons case around these parts.”
“It may be the killer has crossed to your side of the ocean,” Fynn said.
“The coastal killer?”
The inspector glared at me again. Clearly, I was not getting off on the right foot with this guy.
The chief turned to Durbin. “Dick, what do we have so far on our end?”
Detective Durbin squirmed in his seat. “Not a whole lot yet. We ran the prints on both our victims. Nothing in the system. No missing persons either. We’re running DNA, and dental records, but I’m not holding out high hopes.” He paused. “Forensics finished their preliminary report on our second victim, Jane Doe number two. No trace evidence. The only weird thing was her clothes. They couldn’t track the manufacturer. One of the tech boys theorizes she was wearing her mom’s or her grandma’s jogging suit.” Durbin took a breath and looked at me for some unknown reason. “We did trace the key found on yesterday’s victim. Belongs to a muscle car, circa nineteen seventy-four, a Pontiac Le Mans or a T-37. Kind of a tough car to hide in this town. We should spot it soon enough.”
“This is the first important clue we have,” Inspector Fynn said with some excitement. “Other than the clothes they wore, all the other victims had no personal effects, not even jewelry. There is the idea that the killer is deliberately trying to thwart efforts at identification.”
“What about shoes?” I asked.
The inspector looked at me as if I were an insect or something, but also gave me a friendly smile. “No shoes. Every victim was barefoot.”
I glanced at Durbin and grinned. Wasn’t such a bad headline after all.
“How about fingerprints, DNA on your side of the pond, Inspector Fynn?” Chief Arantez asked.
“As I’ve said, none of the victims have been identified. And none of them correspond to any missing persons.” Fynn turned to face Durbin. “What about your coroner’s report?”
“Cause of death undetermined. Time of death: approximately four a.m.”
“Wait, what time?” I asked.
“Somewhere between three thirty and four.”
I pulled out my old tide chart. “Hmm.”
“What?” Durbin asked.
I tossed the pamphlet down onto the chief’s desk. “Low tide.”
“So?”
“So, the footprints… they couldn’t have just been washed away.”
Inspector Fynn took some interest in our conversation. “I’m not sure I follow this.”
I turned to him. “We found footprints that just stopped, like the tide washed them clean, only the water didn’t come up that high until much later.”
“May I see these footprints? You have photographs?”
I turned to Durbin. He gave me a noncommittal shrug. I had made copies of the crime scene photos, probably not my best idea. I glanced over to the chief expecting an angry reaction but got none. I reached into my satchel and took out the printouts. Inspector Fynn looked them over carefully.
“Ah, these are Italian shoes…”
“How can you tell?”
“The curve here, and the heel… Who else could design such a beautiful shoe?” Fynn paused to study the photo in detail.
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