The Alienist - Caleb Carr [115]
We knew what he was referring to. Laszlo’s recent investigation of the timings of the murders had revealed that all save one could be tied to the Christian calendar: January 1st marked the circumcision of Jesus and the Feast of Fools; February 2nd was the Purification of the Virgin Mary, or Candlemas Day; and Ali ibn-Ghazi had died on Good Friday. There had been holy days when no murders had taken place, of course—Epiphany, for instance, had passed without incident, as had the Five Wounds of Christ on February 20th. But if March 3rd, the date of the Santorelli killing, had possessed a Christian connotation, we could have been relatively certain that some kind of religious element was involved in our man’s timing. No such connotation existed, however.
“Then maybe we’re back to the theory of the lunar cycle,” Marcus said, bringing up a very old bit of folk wisdom that we’d spent a fair amount of time debating, which ran to the effect that behavior such as our killer’s was somehow connected to the waxing and waning of the moon, making it true “lunacy.”
“I still don’t like it,” Kreizler said with a wave of his hand, eyes ever on his calendar.
“The moon has been linked to other physical and behavioral shifts,” Sara said. “You’ll find a lot of women, for instance, who believe it controls the menstrual cycle.”
“And our man’s urges do seem to run according to a cycle of some kind,” Lucius agreed.
“So they do,” Kreizler replied. “But the suggestion of such an unprovable astrological influence on psychobiology draws us away from the ritualistic nature of the murders. The claimed cannibalism is a new and apparently distinct element of those rituals, I’ll admit. But the savagery has been consistently rising, and it was almost predictable that we should reach some such crescendo—although the absence of that particular feature in the ibn-Ghazi murder suggests he may have ventured into an area that, whatever his shocking statements in the note, was not truly to his liking.”
The conversation ground to a halt for a moment, and as it did an idea began to form in my mind. “Kreizler,” I said, carefully weighing my words, “let’s assume for a moment that we’re right about all this. You’ve said yourself that it seems to further reinforce the notion that there’s a religious element to the murders.”
Kreizler turned to me, weariness starting to show in his eyes. “It can be taken that way,” he said.
“Well, what about our two priests, then? We’ve already figured that their behavior could easily be seen as an attempt to protect someone. Suppose it’s one of their own?”
“Ahh,” Lucius said quietly. “You’re thinking of someone like that reverend in Salt Lake City, John?”
“Exactly,” I answered. “A holy man gone very wrong. One with a second, and secret, life. Suppose his superiors have gotten wind of what he’s doing, but they can’t locate him for some reason—maybe he’s gone into hiding. The potential for scandal would be enormous. And given the role that the Catholic and Episcopal churches play in the life of this city, the leaders of either group could easily get not only the mayor’s office but the richest men in town to help them conceal it. Until they can deal with it privately, I mean.” I sat back, rather proud of this bit of work, but waiting for Kreizler’s reaction. His continued silence didn’t seem