Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [113]
"You take Irish whiskey . . ." Commissioner Coughlin said.
He's talking to me!
". . . and you put it in a cocktail shaker with ice, and shake it well, and then you pour it into a martini glass. That way, you don't dilute the whiskey as the ice melts."
"Very interesting," Olivia said. "I've never heard of that."
"They're really pretty good," Amy Payne said.
"You want to try one?" Coughlin asked. "You really earned a drink today with the Williamsons."
"Why not?" Olivia said.
"Jerry!" Coughlin called. "Two Doctor's Irish Specials."
"Two Doctor's Specials coming up," Jerry called back.
Olivia looked at Matt.
He was rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
Yeah, I know. "Lay off the booze."
Fuck you!
You're not my father. You don't tell me when not to drink.
How dare you be exasperated, disgusted, whatever with me?
"Did you get a chance to talk to Dr. Mitchell, Amy?" Washington asked.
"Cause of death was a broken neck," Amy said, matter-of-factly. "There are contusions on the right side of the face, suggesting that she was thrown, or forced, against the bedside table with such force as to break the neck."
She jerked her head violently to one side in demonstration. "Big guy, huh, Doc?" Slayberg asked.
Amy nodded.
"We're sure it's a male?" Olivia asked.
Detective Lassiter saw that Sergeant Payne was rolling his eyes again.
Why now? Why was that a stupid question?
Oh, God, the sperm on her breast!
That was a stupid question.
Keep your mouth shut!
"There was sperm on the body," Amy said.
Sergeant Payne was now shaking his head.
"On the body," Amy went on. "On her breast and face. None in the vagina, anus, or mouth. . . ."
The bartender set a martini glass before each of the women. Amy took a sip.
Olivia reached for the glass and picked it up.
She glanced at Sergeant Payne. He was holding both his hands palms outward. The gesture was clear: I wash my hands of you.
Fuck you again.
I will drink this drink and I will keep my mouth shut.
The drink had a strange, heavy, but not unpleasant taste. Something like a martini.
"What do you think, Lassiter?" Coughlin asked.
"Interesting," Olivia said.
"Don't take more than two at one sitting," Wohl said.
"I won't."
"I presume there were sufficient quantities of that bodily fluid for DNA?" Washington said.
"Plenty," Sergeant Payne and Detective D'Amata said at the same time.
"I asked Dr. Mitchell to see if there was any saliva," Amy said.
"You think he licked her, Doc?" Slayberg asked.
Was that a bona fide question, or homicide humor?
"I think he may have spat on her," Amy said. "If so, that would confirm my first guess about this man."
"Which is?" Washington asked, softly.
"That he gets his satisfaction from the humiliation of his victims."
"Victims, plural?" Wohl asked. "You think he's done this before?"
"I think he has. For one thing, with the exception of killing the victim, which may have been--probably was--accidental, I think things went as he wanted them to go, as he planned them to go."
"Why do you say that?" Wohl asked.
"Those plastic things he used to tie her to the bed. That and the knife. People don't usually carry things like that around. He brought them to the apartment, intending to use them."
Wohl grunted agreement.
"Let me put it this way," Amy said. "Psychologically, this guy is the opposite of Isaac 'Fort' Festung."
Who the hell is that?
"Fort Festung?" Coughlin asked, visibly surprised. "What's his connection with this?"
"Bear with me, Uncle Denny," Amy said.
"Your show, sweetheart," Coughlin said. "Handle it any way you want."
"When I was at Martha Pekach's party, she told me that David was upset because he'd gotten another postcard from Festung. I guess he's been in my mind since then. He's another interesting character, psychologically speaking."
"Harry," D'Amata said, chuckling, " 'interesting character, psychologically speaking' is doctor talk for miserable slimeball. "
Wohl chuckled. Amy smiled at D'Amata.
Why do I know that if Inspector Wohl had said