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“I believe the phrase you policemen use is modus operandi,” Amy said. “They’re different here.”
“Explain that to me. I’m a little dense this time of night,” Wohl said.
“Let me have a shot, if I may, Amy,” Washington said. “You are saying that Festung regarded Miss Shattack as something worthless that he could deal with-in this case, discard-in any way that pleased him at the moment. An empty cigarette package, so to speak.”
“Right,” Amy said.
“And the Williamson girl?” Matt asked.
Amy ignored him.
“Which suggests to me that Festung has an enormous ego,” she said.
“Which would also explain the postcards,” Wohl said. “Festung is making the point with his postcards that he can do whatever he wants to do, and there’s nothing we can do about it. ‘We’ being the police, representing society.”
She ignored him too.
“Are you suggesting, Amy,” Washington asked, “that the Williamson girl was in some way important to her killer?”
“I think that as Festung had this pathologically enormous ego, the man who killed the Williamson girl has a pathologically inadequate ego, which he has to buttress. I don’t think he intended to kill her or, possibly, even rape her. What he wanted, what he was driven to do, was humiliate her. He had to prove to himself that she was in his power.”
No one responded.
“Rape, generally speaking,” Amy went on, “is rarely to attain sexual gratification. The satisfaction comes from having the victim in your power, terrifying them, forcing them to do something they really don’t want to do, something that will humiliate them.”
“The sperm on the victim’s face and breasts… ” Wohl said.
“Precisely, Peter,” Amy said. “Breasts he exposed by cutting away her clothing with that enormous knife…”
“… suggesting he masturbated, ejaculating on her face…”
"… for the purpose of humiliation,” Amy finished for him. “I can think of nothing more humiliating for a young woman…”
“Who was not a bimbo,” Olivia said.
“… he believed to be a, quote, nice girl, unquote,” Amy said.
Olivia had a quick mental image of herself tied naked to a bed while some sicko… did that… in her face. She felt a chill.
She picked up her Doctor’s Irish Special and took a deep swallow without knowing she had done so until the whiskey began to warm her body.
She sensed Matt’s eyes on her and glanced at him. This time she thought she saw understanding-maybe even a little sympathy-in his eyes.
“You’re saying this guy is a real sicko,” D’Amata said. “I mean, we know he’s sick to start with, but…”
“This man is driven, Joe,” Amy said. “And from the- what do I say? — practiced manner in which he did this-the plastic ties, the knife, the camera to capture the victim in her humiliation-I would be very surprised if this was his first victim.”
“And you feel certain there will be others?” Washington asked.
“That opens another unpleasant avenue of thought,” Amy said. “His reaction to her death. I don’t think he intended to kill her. But he did. The question then becomes whether the knowledge that he has taken a life is going to frighten him, possibly to the point where he will at least try not to let something like that happen again, or whether killing the Williamson girl gave him greater satisfaction than the previous incidents of humiliation ever gave him. And thus make him want to do it again?”
“Jesus Christ!” Slayberg said.
“So who do we look for, Concerned Citizen?” Wohl asked. “How do we find this guy?”
“I don’t think he knew her,” Amy said. “I mean, I don’t think you’re going to find him by finding a rejected suitor. He may have known about her… as Detective Lassiter said…” She paused and looked and smiled at Olivia. “Sorry, I’ve forgotten your first name.”
“Olivia.”
