Miami, It's Murder by Edna Buchanan Read Free Book Online Page B

about the lab work on the rapist?”
    â€œHe’s a secretor.”
    A secretor’s sweat, saliva, and other body fluids, including semen, reveal his blood type. “Good, what type is he?”
    â€œI can’t say.”
    â€œWhat about the psychological profile? What do they think?”
    â€œHe’s got no respect for women.”
    â€œCome on, Harry. We knew that.” Brutalized and humiliated, the women were left bound and positioned for maximum shock effect. Whoever opened the door found them naked and exposed. A young CPA trainee working late when attacked was not discovered until the next morning. She was still under sedation, weeks later.
    â€œYou got to get all this from the lieutenant. Nothing came from me, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œProbably has a history of arrests, not necessarily for rape, has trouble with male-female relationships, comes from a dysfunctional family, was abused psychologically and maybe sexually as a child. Had temper tantrums as a kid and has a love-hate relationship with an older, dominant female relative. May even live with her.”
    The usual. “Anything else?”
    â€œAbove-average intelligence, holds a job, and lives or works in the downtown area, not far from the crime scenes.”
    â€œThat’s interesting.”
    â€œOne other thing. He’s got gonorrhea, the penicillin-resistant strain.”
    â€œOh, no! Are the victims infected?”
    â€œTwo, so far.”
    â€œGod, Harry, stop this guy!”
    â€œTell me about it. I’m doing everything but putting on makeup, wearing a wig, and sitting on the potty in the little girls’ room. Now do us a favor, will you, Britt? Put our phone number in your story.” His voice was raspy with fatigue. “Ask anybody with information to give us a call.”
    â€œSure. Now you do me a favor.”
    He groaned. “What, Britt?”
    I couldn’t help thinking about my mother. “Catch him, Harry,” I said.
    I reread my notes, then carried Billy Boots into the kitchen. Delighted at the attention, he suddenly stopped purring when he recognized the hairball medication. Dark and sticky stuff in a toothpastelike tube, it looks and smells like molasses. The blurb on the box assures pet owners that cats will lick it eagerly straight from the tube. I read this aloud to Billy Boots. Unimpressed, he tried to escape. I was too fast and forced it between his clenched teeth, telling him he’d thank me later. I held his jaws together as he struggled, then finally swallowed, a resigned expression on his face.
    I washed my hands, brushed my teeth, undressed, and turned out the lights. Usually my sleep is untroubled, but as I slipped into that void just before slumber, I wondered if at this moment out there in the darkness, somewhere in a gleaming downtown tower, a woman lay undiscovered, tied and terrified. Her sobs haunted my dreams.

Chapter 4
    In the morning I drove to the rape squad office hoping to corner the lieutenant and push for release of the rapist’s composite and psychological profile.
    The office was nearly empty, desks and phones unmanned. The lieutenant was out. Not a detective in sight. “Everybody went to a scene,” said the secretary. A small prim woman with a tiny scarlet mouth, she was dressed in a straight skirt, a tailored white shirt with a little tie, and comfortable shoes. Wary eyes peered out of a worn face, as though she had heard it all on this job but would never repeat a word.
    â€œThe Downtown Rapist again?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “You know I can’t give out information.”
    I took a deep breath. “I’m not asking anything about the case,” I said sweetly, pissed as hell that I didn’t know what was going on. “All I need is the location. That’s surely no secret.”
    She shook her head again, peered through her half glasses at the sheet of paper in her IBM Selectric,