Robert Walker - Fatal Instinct

A collective sense of curious bewilderment filled the room. The silence was broken by O’Toole, who asked, “Is it literate; I mean, how's the spelling, punctuation, all that?”

“ Not a problem.”

“ Holy shit,” said Mannion. “It does sound like there're two guys. TTiis guy signs as Ovid and he talks about the Claw like he's another guy.”

“ Why'd he leave the poem inside her?” asked Detective Emmons. “How'd he know you'd find it?” she added.

“ He likely knows that on autopsy we'd be pretty thorough,” she replied. “So far, no other messages had been found in this manner, and a recheck has turned up nothing further, according to Dr. Darius.”

“ What Emmons means, Dr. Coran,” said Mannion, “is why'd the creep jam it inside the dead woman? Why not write it on the goddamned wall in blood like a Manson might do?”

She considered this and looked to Alan for a reply. Rychman stepped closer to the mic and said, “People, this is one indication we may be dealing with two separate personalities here: one being fearful and timid, the other dominant and daring. The fearful Ovid is in awe of his more potent accomplice.”

Jessica jumped back in. “Maybe Ovid doesn't want the other killer to know that he took this step.”

“ And he's counting on us not to leak this information, maybe, and maybe he's as good as dead if the other one finds out,” added Rychman. “Least, that's the way Dr. Coran and I see it at this point. Call it educated conjecture, if you wish.”

This seemed to satisfy most in the room. Emmons' thin hand went up as she raised another question. “What does he have to gain by this act? Does he want to be caught? Is he trying to end the killing spree?”

“ We don't have all the answers, not by a long shot,” replied Rychman. “The poem shows a lot of misguided, insane notions are swimming around in the guy's head, like the business of the Claw's doing the world a good turn, servicing us, you might say, by getting rid of the wretched among us.”

“ This ties in with a related theory that Captain Rychman is working on, about the killer or killers knowing that some and perhaps all of his victims were having medical problems,” Jessica added.

This brought a rumble from the assembled detectives. Only a handful were working on the probe of the medical histories. Rychman asked these few to report any new findings, but they'd just begun to scratch the surface and each begged for more time.

O’Toole asked the question that seemed now on everyone's mind. “Then this bastard, or these bastards, knew their victims?”

“ We can't say that's a for-sure at this point,” countered Rychman. “But we're betting that he had prior knowledge of their weaknesses through their medical histories or records. Believe me, people, it has been a leap of faith to take our speculations this far, but that's why we're lucky to have Dr. Coran on our side.”

The group acknowledged this with positive grunts and nods. Emmons asked in her quiet voice, “You got all this from that poem? Maybe I'd better go back to school, because I don't see it.”

“ The medical history trail came independently through Captain Rychman's investigation,” Jessica answered. “All we truly got from the poem is the belief that Ovid is a weak and subordinated personality at the mercy of the one he calls the Claw. It was Ovid who contacted the radio station after the initial attacks way back in November of last year. Ovid has remained silent until now-out of fear, we believe. But just as with his radio appearance, he is championing the work of the Claw with his poem.”

“ Sorry,” said Emmons. “I just don't get that much out of this loon's poem, Doctor, and if you're wrong we could be looking in all the wrong places.”

“ The poem doesn't really say all that much,” agreed another detective.

“ But it does” Jessica disagreed. “It's a sick rationalization for the Claw's cannibalistic nature, and it places the Claw in a godlike role, doing the work of an archangel of death. It tells us a great deal about the killer, and about his accomplice, this Ovid who is in fear for his own life and quite surely in awe of the other man, who has convinced him somehow to be a part of some glorious master plan.”

“ Obviously delusionary,” said Dr. Richard Ames, who had stepped through the door, his secretary beside him with a handful of slides. “However, I'm not convinced that you have two men with murderous intent and cannibalistic urges, and not one man with a dual personality disorder.”

Dr. Ames' contradiction took both Rychman and Jessica by surprise. Jessica tried to minimize the damage already done. “No, this is not a case of one man with two identities, Doctor, but two men with a shared psychosis, acting out a shared fantasy.”

“ If you will bear with me, please,” Ames pleaded with an upraised palm, displaying his huge hand. He then gave a nod to his secretary, who looked disgruntled to be working so early. Priscilla obviously knew the routine, going for the slide projector at the rear of the room. Rychman pulled down a screen from overhead.

Meanwhile, Ames was saying, “I will provide you with my opinion regarding the Claw as he has revealed himself through his writing. Beginning with his handwriting, it is clear that he has a great reservoir of self-hatred and is lacking in self-esteem. As to how many killers you have? I believe this a case of encroaching possession of one personality over the other-that is to say, what the press has dubbed the Claw is another Gerald Ray Sims, i.e., Sims equals Ovid, Stainlype equals the Claw.”

“ No, no,” Jessica started to object, unable to hide her disappointment, her eyes meeting Rychman's. He, too, was upset, realizing that Ames' conclusions toppled all that they had so carefully built up in the minds of his detectives. They had been suddenly clipped at the knees.

Ames had taken the podium, and seeing the dismay in their eyes, he said to Jessica and Rychman, “Aren't you even curious as to how I arrived at my conclusions? Shall I go on, Captain?”

Rychman bit his lip and nodded. “Please… please do.”

Jessica sat down alongside Alan, the two of them waiting for Ames, who was waiting for Priscilla, to continue. Rychman began tapping with a pencil, his confused people looking on.

The room was darkened, and overhead, larger than life, was the handwriting of the Claw. The childish script of huge swirls and loops looked almost as if it had been intentionally used to throw police off. Dr. Ames, a huge, dark shadow beside the screen, pointed at each line as he discussed it.

“ His rage and anger have been sublimated by this fantastic idea that he has somehow done the right thing; his words here and here, about tearing out his victims' eyes, feeding on the soft flesh, are balanced by his holier-than-thou attitude that he is somehow the agent of a spirit beyond this world, an angel or archangel. He feels that the power controlling him is in fact superhuman, and so if it tells him to kill, if it tells him to feed on those he kills, he does so. Not that he is without fear of the spirit that has overtaken him, but it is this fear that motivates him. He would rather eat out the sins of his victims, swallow them down and accumulate them, than face this being from another world that has taken control of him.”

“ Then there are two killers and not one,” said someone in the group.

“ No,” Ames disagreed. “There is only one killer, but he is a psychopath who receives visits from a second, more powerful personality, the dire, black side of his own soul, perhaps. Voices he takes to be that of God or God-directed.”

“ Then he's one guy with two personalities?”