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Authors: Warren Adler
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Eggplant's desk.
"Note the proficiency of the knots that held her extremities. For this
type of execution, the woman had to be docile and consenting."
"You think so?" Gail said cautiously. "I
would have thought just the opposite."
"It's only a theory, Gail," Fiona said gently.
"My guess is that he got her to allow him to immobolize her."
"You mean she allowed this psychopath to put her in
this position. Look at the result."
"I don't believe she knew the full extent of what he
was doing, where it was leading. Perhaps she had done this with him
before." She felt her voice weaken and she coughed to mask the condition.
"My God," Gail said. "Look at those stab
wounds."
"Doing that was probably the way he achieved
orgasm."
"You don't think there was penetration?" Gail
asked. Fiona avoided her gaze.
"We'll have to wait on that for the results of the
autopsy," Fiona said.
She wanted to add more, like being certain that the woman's
anus had been violated by some mechanical device that had caused bleeding. In
her brief, very brief assessment of the body, she had noted the condition,
masked by the blood that had cascaded over the body from the stab wounds.
"Why do you reject coercion, Fiona?" Gail asked
diplomatically, obviously careful to show the proper humility of a junior.
"Isn't it possible that her assailant had a gun or, most certainly, a
knife that he would have used to terrorize her and make her do his
bidding?"
"Oh, I didn't rule that out completely," Fiona
admitted. "There were no obvious signs of a struggle and the neatness of
her discarded clothes indicated that she might have taken them off with some
care. She did have interviews scheduled for Monday. And from the way her
clothes were arranged in the closet, she seemed rather fastidious."
"You have a point," Gail said, without rancor.
Fiona could tell that she was not convinced.
"Also, note that the clothes were not exactly casual
for a daytime Saturday. A pair of jeans was hanging in the closet, which
indicates that Flannagan's eyeball assessment of late Saturday night or early
Sunday morning is on the money. She might have met someone or had a prearranged
date with someone she had known." Fiona paused, choosing her words
carefully, wondering if her subconscious was guiding her along a single path.
"Or was a friend of the family."
"Some friend," the Eggplant muttered, his gaze
washing over the picture.
Gail shrugged, as if she were unsure whether to challenge
any of the assumptions in Fiona's theory. It was, Fiona knew, a deduction based
upon her own experience. She had arranged her clothes neatly on the chair
beside her when she had been ordered by Farley to undress.
"Do you really believe that someone as intelligent as
Phyla Herbert could be talked into being a willing participant in this..."
Gail began, then broke off the sentence and shook her head. It was obvious that
such behavior was not in the range of Gail's experience. Indeed, Fiona
realized, Gail would, no doubt, be astonished at the extent of the practice.
"Surely we can't discount that possibility,
Gail," Fiona said patiently.
"I suppose we're too early in the game to discount any
possibility," Gail replied, but without conviction.
"Are you theorizing that the perpetrator was someone
she knew?" the Eggplant asked, obviously taking Fiona's theory with more
seriousness than Gail.
"Maybe." She shot Gail a conciliatory glance.
"We haven't accounted for all of her contacts, particularly in the
evenings. Thursday, Friday or Saturday. Since her father was well connected,
she might have attended a dinner or cocktail party thrown by mutual friends or
business associates."
Fiona paused, watching Gail's reaction, pondering an idea
that had suddenly jumped into her mind. Considering Gail's background, it would
take a leap of faith for her to believe that a brilliant and well brought up
woman like Phyla Herbert could associate with someone who got his kicks in this
manner.
Gail, too, was the daughter
"Note the proficiency of the knots that held her extremities. For this
type of execution, the woman had to be docile and consenting."
"You think so?" Gail said cautiously. "I
would have thought just the opposite."
"It's only a theory, Gail," Fiona said gently.
"My guess is that he got her to allow him to immobolize her."
"You mean she allowed this psychopath to put her in
this position. Look at the result."
"I don't believe she knew the full extent of what he
was doing, where it was leading. Perhaps she had done this with him
before." She felt her voice weaken and she coughed to mask the condition.
"My God," Gail said. "Look at those stab
wounds."
"Doing that was probably the way he achieved
orgasm."
"You don't think there was penetration?" Gail
asked. Fiona avoided her gaze.
"We'll have to wait on that for the results of the
autopsy," Fiona said.
She wanted to add more, like being certain that the woman's
anus had been violated by some mechanical device that had caused bleeding. In
her brief, very brief assessment of the body, she had noted the condition,
masked by the blood that had cascaded over the body from the stab wounds.
"Why do you reject coercion, Fiona?" Gail asked
diplomatically, obviously careful to show the proper humility of a junior.
"Isn't it possible that her assailant had a gun or, most certainly, a
knife that he would have used to terrorize her and make her do his
bidding?"
"Oh, I didn't rule that out completely," Fiona
admitted. "There were no obvious signs of a struggle and the neatness of
her discarded clothes indicated that she might have taken them off with some
care. She did have interviews scheduled for Monday. And from the way her
clothes were arranged in the closet, she seemed rather fastidious."
"You have a point," Gail said, without rancor.
Fiona could tell that she was not convinced.
"Also, note that the clothes were not exactly casual
for a daytime Saturday. A pair of jeans was hanging in the closet, which
indicates that Flannagan's eyeball assessment of late Saturday night or early
Sunday morning is on the money. She might have met someone or had a prearranged
date with someone she had known." Fiona paused, choosing her words
carefully, wondering if her subconscious was guiding her along a single path.
"Or was a friend of the family."
"Some friend," the Eggplant muttered, his gaze
washing over the picture.
Gail shrugged, as if she were unsure whether to challenge
any of the assumptions in Fiona's theory. It was, Fiona knew, a deduction based
upon her own experience. She had arranged her clothes neatly on the chair
beside her when she had been ordered by Farley to undress.
"Do you really believe that someone as intelligent as
Phyla Herbert could be talked into being a willing participant in this..."
Gail began, then broke off the sentence and shook her head. It was obvious that
such behavior was not in the range of Gail's experience. Indeed, Fiona
realized, Gail would, no doubt, be astonished at the extent of the practice.
"Surely we can't discount that possibility,
Gail," Fiona said patiently.
"I suppose we're too early in the game to discount any
possibility," Gail replied, but without conviction.
"Are you theorizing that the perpetrator was someone
she knew?" the Eggplant asked, obviously taking Fiona's theory with more
seriousness than Gail.
"Maybe." She shot Gail a conciliatory glance.
"We haven't accounted for all of her contacts, particularly in the
evenings. Thursday, Friday or Saturday. Since her father was well connected,
she might have attended a dinner or cocktail party thrown by mutual friends or
business associates."
Fiona paused, watching Gail's reaction, pondering an idea
that had suddenly jumped into her mind. Considering Gail's background, it would
take a leap of faith for her to believe that a brilliant and well brought up
woman like Phyla Herbert could associate with someone who got his kicks in this
manner.
Gail, too, was the daughter
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