"Дон Пендлтон. The Violent Streets ("Палач" #41) " - читать интересную книгу автора

him. It was as crucial a device, in many ways, as any weapon in his armory
of hardware.
"I'm not a curiosity seeker," he said firmly.
Fran examined the card, then looked at him quizzically.
"What's the federal interest in Toni Blancanales?" she asked.
"None. We were talking about police suppression of evidence.''
The worried look returned.
"Well..." the lady cop began, "I never said that. Don't put words in my
mouth, okay?"
"Why were you transferred, Fran?"
"I'm not sure. They called it a promotion, of course, increased
departmental status and so on. Goodbye rape unit. I was put into public
relations."
Bolan cocked an eyebrow. "You didn't request the move?"
She shook her head, a firm negative.
"They told me about their great need for women in the upper echelons,
et cetera, all for the good of the department, you know? And look at the
trouble it's got me into already," she added, holding herself to avoid
involuntary shivers.
"Who's they?"
"What? Oh, Jack Fawcett, mainly. That's Lieutenant Fawcett, homicide
division."
"Does he normally hand out promotions and transfers?"
"The promotion came from upstairs."
"How high?" Bolan asked.
"Sorry. No idea."
"What were you working on when the transfer came down?"
Fran Traynor hesitated. She was obviously reluctant to answer further
questions. But looking into his eyes, she found something there that
encouraged her to open up.
"I have this theory about... well, in the past thirty months or so,
there have been five identical rape-murders here in St. Paul."
It was Bolan's turn to show surprise.
"Identical?"
She nodded animatedly.
"Virtually," she confirmed. "Of course, I'm the only one who seems to
think so. But I swear, the M.O.'s are carbon copy. All five victims were
found nude, multiple assaults, their throats slashed, and... well, other
mutilations."
"And Homicide sees no similarity?"
"Oh, Lieutenant Fawcett will admit certain common elements," she
answered, "but he insists that the time factor rules out a single
perpetrator."
"How's that?"
"Well, the first killing came eleven months before the next two, and
then eighteen months went by before the final pair. Once they start killing,
your headcaches normally go at it nonstop until they burn out or take the
fall. One-third of all murderers end up as suicides, as a matter of fact..."
"But you have a theory." He was still standing before her as she sat,
still exhausted from her ordeal, on the motel bed.