Murder at the Washington Tribune - Margaret Truman [34]
Wilcox stood and made a move for the door.
“And Joe,” Morehouse said, “contact one of your shrink sources and get a profile of how a serial killer thinks, the kind of guy he might be, a loner probably who pulled wings off butterflies when he was a kid, the usual. Maybe a shrink at one of the hospitals to give it weight.”
Wilcox was glad to be out of Morehouse’s office and in the semi-sanctity of his own cubicle. He couldn’t seriously argue with the editor’s thinking. His suggestions made sense for follow-ups to a story about a serial killer, whether it was a figment of the reporter’s imagination or not. Actually, Morehouse’s instructions made things easier. Wilcox hadn’t been sure how to proceed with a second article, particularly whether or not to draw upon another fictitious quote from his alleged MPD source. He was glad he didn’t have to, at least for that day.
Obtaining a quote from a mental health professional was easy. A clinical psychologist at Howard University Hospital had been only too happy to offer quotable insight for him to use in many of his articles over the years. She dropped what she was doing at the hospital to take his call.
“Read my piece this morning?” he asked.
“Sure I did. Let me guess. You want a profile of what kind of guy goes around killing pretty young women.”
“Something like that,” he said. “I know you’ll be generalizing but—”
“Not a problem. First tell me, were either of the two victims sexually assaulted?”
“No report yet on the most recent. The autopsy on Jean Kaporis here at the Trib indicated she’d had intercourse within twenty-four hours of being murdered, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of assault.”
“It would be unusual if sex wasn’t involved. I’ve never known a serial killer who wasn’t after sexual gratification, as perverse as it might be. Let me ask you something else. Why are the police considering this a serial killing? According to my textbook, it takes three related murders before that scenario comes up.”
Her question took him aback. She’d never challenged him before, probably, he’d surmised, because she didn’t want to risk losing media exposure. She was a true media hound, always showing up on TV talk shows as the expert on myriad topics, most particularly sexual dysfunction. Her popular Sunday evening radio show was often devoted to that gritty subject.
“I don’t have the answers for you,” he said. “Maybe the police know more than they’re letting on.”
“There might be other murders with similar MOs?”
“Maybe. How about a brief overview of the typical serial killer, nothing too deep, a thumbnail sketch. If this isn’t a good time for you, I can—”
“No problem, Joe. Always happy to help.”
Wilcox smiled. Of course she was willing to help, provided he spelled her name right.
“Okay, here’s Serial Killer 101,” she said. “A nerd? No. Our fellow is probably intelligent, charismatic, charming, and/or good-looking. Of course, I’m, talking about serial killers who entice female victims with smooth talk. They’re almost always good talkers. If this guy you’re writing about isn’t a sexual deviant, then the profile might not apply. Often, some form of childhood abuse is in their background.”
“Psychotic?”
“I doubt it. Serial killers are usually psychopaths. There’s a difference. A psychotic killer would be out of touch with reality and have trouble eluding the police as a result. Chances are he’s keenly aware of what he’s doing, that it’s criminal. Ultimately, it’s a power thing. Determining life and death with the vulnerable gives him an inflated sense of power, something he needs because inside, he’s pathetically insecure, maybe impotent. Chances are he’s proud of what he’s accomplished and keeps every newspaper account of the murders as trophies.”
“Likely he’s from the D.C. area?”
“As opposed to a vagrant passing