Cooked Goose

“Nothing like a show of strength and support to make a public statement. The sight of acres of squad cars, rolling silently down the street, lights flashing, should be enough to make John Q. Public think twice before he takes out a cop.”
    “One would think so,” Gibson said. “But it appears a certain Mr. Public hasn’t gotten the message yet.”
    Savannah handed the platter to Ryan and the pot in its wrought iron stand to Gibson. “If you gentlemen would kindly transfer that to the dining room table, I’ll get some plates. And then we can all consume far more calories and saturated fat than the surgeon general would recommend.”
    “And savor every morsel, I’m sure,” Gibson said, sniffing the chocolate.
    The moment food appeared on the table, Dirk materialized. “I was out there in the living room,” he told Savannah , “trying to entertain your depressed sister and be Christmasy, like you asked me to. And I could hear you guys in here talking about my case.”
    “How’s it coming?” Ryan asked as Savannah motioned for them to take seats around the table. “Any good leads?”
    “Hardly any leads, good or rotten,” Dirk replied as he started to load his plate with fruit and cake.
    Savannah noticed that, for once, Dirk was too discouraged, tired and hungry to care that he was talking to someone with a different sexual orientation. He seemed to welcome input from a professional, and although Ryan and Gibson had left the Bureau years ago, they had lent their expertise to several of Savannah’s investigations.
    With Dirk’s case effectively stalled, he was eager for help from any and all quarters.
    She left them to their discussions and walked into the living room, where she had her third True Spirit of Christmas experience this season. Her sister was sitting in Savannah’s favorite chair, the overstuffed wingbacked affair with the wide, comfy footstool. The two cats, Cleopatra and Diamante, had rolled themselves into black, furry balls on either side of Vidalia’s feet. All three were asleep.
    On the end of the sofa, beside the twinkling Christmas tree, Margie had curled up with the twins, their heads bent over Savannah’s ancient copy of The Night Before Christmas. The teenager was reading to them, and they were totally absorbed. Savannah could tell they were near the end of the story, so she decided not to disturb them with an invitation to the table.
    She walked back into the kitchen/dining area and put on a pot of coffee to brew. Then she joined the men at the table. They were as involved with their discussion as the kids had been with their book. Though the subject matter was anything but festive.
    “Anyone who would stick a cop’s badge in his mouth has a lot of rage about something,” Ryan said. “Whether his anger is over a particular issue, or if he lives his life in rage, that’s the question.”
    “Among the chaps you’ve questioned,” Gibson asked Dirk, “who do you consider most likely to be your fellow?”
    “I really don’t know. I’ve got a young guy, a football star, who I like for the rapes. But I don’t know why he would come after the cops. No connection from him to them that I can see.”
    “And we had a possible on a recently released cop killer,” Savannah said, helping herself to an orange slice and dipping it in the melted chocolate. “But, turns out, he’s been in the Nevada system most of the time this has been going on. So, he’s a bust.”
    “We’ve got a weird situation with some rings,” Dirk said, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a small evidence envelope. “Don’t say anything about this, because we haven’t released it to the public, but it seems our missing cop, and our two dead ones all owned rings like this.”
    “DeCianni, too?” Savannah said, surprised.
    “I asked his grieving girlfriend about it today after McGivney’s funeral. Says he’s got one, but hardly ever wears it. Never told her where he got it. This one was McGivney’s,” he told Ryan. “And, even more interesting, our last rape victim had a bruise on her face that could have easily been made by a ring like this.” He shook the star-studded ring out of the envelope and handed it to Ryan.
    “Now that is interesting,” Ryan said, examining it closely. “It’s almost like a class ring, or...”
    He handed it to Gibson, who fingered it thoughtfully. “Or some sort of fraternity.”
    “I’ve talked to all three women: Titus’s girlfriend,