Murder at the Washington Tribune - Margaret Truman [35]
“You said he’s probably smart. What kind of job would he have?”
“That’s always interesting, Joe. Very often, these people hold jobs below their intellectual level. Menial jobs. In some ways it fuels their sense of anger against what they perceive to be a world that doesn’t appreciate them. A lot of them have had jobs with law enforcement: police forces, security guards, things like that.” She paused. “Joe, you said in your piece that both victims worked in journalism. Are you saying whoever killed them is motivated by that?”
“I wasn’t saying anything specific, just pointing out that similarity. What do you say?”
“That’s a stretch, I say. Do you know how many serial killers are estimated to be running loose in America these days?”
“No, tell me.”
“Forty, maybe fifty. That’s a Department of Justice figure. You can’t prove it by me.”
“This has been great,” Wilcox said, aware that members of his “task force” in the Kaporis murder had gathered and were standing around, waiting for him to get off the phone. “As usual, you’re the best.”
“My pleasure, Joe. You ought to come on my radio show some night.”
“And talk about sexual dysfunction?”
“Sure, if you’re interestingly dysfunctional. Keep in touch.”
“Got a minute?” Rick Jillian asked after Wilcox had ended the call.
“Yeah, sure. Hi, Kathleen.”
Kathleen Lansden, the researcher assigned to Wilcox, and Jillian pulled up chairs.
“Great piece this morning, Joe,” Kathleen said.
“Yeah,” said Jillian. “How’d you get a cop to admit they’re looking into the serial killer angle?”
“You do this long enough and develop enough sources,” Wilcox replied, “things break your way sometimes. What do you two have?”
Jillian ran over the list of Trib staffers he’d talked to, all of them having been interviewed by the police.
“And?” Wilcox asked. “I’m sorry to rush things along, but I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”
“Well—” Jillian said, glancing around the newsroom.
“Well what?”
Jillian, a foppish young man with a penchant for bow ties, leaned close and spoke sotto voce. “There’s some talk, Joe, that Hawthorne might have been seeing Jean out of the office.”
“Is that so? Who says?”
“A couple of guys mentioned it. Actually, one was a woman. Nobody said they know it for certain, I mean, nobody says they saw them together. It’s more like an undercurrent.”
“Hawthorne, huh?” Wilcox mused. “Makes sense, I suppose. Nice looking young guy, not married. And she was a knockout.”
“Very,” Kathleen said. “But not quite the word I’d use.”
“Think you can find out more?” Wilcox asked Jillian.
“I don’t want to ask him,” Jillian said. “Based on just a rumor.”
Wilcox looked at Kathleen. “Are you close to Hawthorne?”
She shook her head. “Talk to him now and then, but with his ego, it’s hard to have a conversation.”
Wilcox smiled at her characterization of Gene Hawthorne, which matched his evaluation. Wouldn’t that be something? he thought.
“I’ll talk to him,” Wilcox said. To Jillian: “What about the visitors Morehouse wanted you to follow up on?”
“I’m working on it. Nothing so far.”
“Who’d we miss on the interview list?” he asked Kathleen.
She handed him a list containing a dozen names.
“Good. I’ll follow up. Rick, I need short interviews with a half dozen pretty women living in the District. Pretty and single.”
“Why?”
“To see what they think about a serial killer possibly working D.C. Morehouse wants it for my next article.”
Jillian laughed. “Great,” he said, smiling broadly. “Nice way to meet single women.”
“Don’t you want me to interview single men living in D.C?” Kathleen asked, playfully.
“Sorry, Scarlett, not this time, unless a woman starts knocking off single men. If so—”
“I can’t wait.”
“Good. In the meantime, I want you to contact escort services in the D.C. area.”
“Why? I’m being fired?”
“Only if you say no to me. Start with the biggest. See if a Mary Jane Pruit works for any of them.”
“The roommate?”
“Yup. I need something by end of the day.”
“If you say so.”
“But Kathleen, whatever you come up with is for my ears and