The Axeman's Jazz

said Cindy Lou. “What you can look for are things like psychiatric problems, substance abuse, criminality, maybe a sporadic work record.”
    “Give me a break,” said O’Rourke. “Whose brother-in-law doesn’t have a sporadic work record?”
    Cindy Lou shrugged. “Your best bet’s classic police work—checking criminal records.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    She ignored him. “Okay, there’s something we need to look at right off the bat. Your crime scenes. The FBI classifies offenders as organized and disorganized.
    “The organized offender plans. If he’s a rapist, maybe he uses a condom so the police can’t analyze his sperm. He’s going to wear gloves, maybe, or wipe off his fingerprints. Maybe he takes the body away from the crime scene. The important thing is this: He plans the crime in such a way as to avoid getting caught. He’s usually smart.
    “The disorganized offender maybe isn’t so bright. He leaves a sloppy crime scene—fingerprints, footprints, every kind of thing. Sometimes he can’t resist keeping the bodies. One guy made drums and seat covers out of two women he kept around for eight years. After killing them, of course.”
    The requisite groan rose.
    “This kind of killer might use a weapon found at the scene and left there. Now, your guy brought his weapon—his hands—and probably wore gloves. But he did use available materials for his A—a lipstick in one case, and blood in another, obtained with a knife he found at the scene. So what does that suggest to you?”
    Cappello said, “Can you have a combination?”
    “Good. You sure can and in fact it’s pretty common. We’d know more about the Axeman if we knew how he was getting his victims, but just from the simple, clean crime scenes he left, I’d say he seems more like the organized type. Would you agree? Especially the officers who were there—Langdon? Hodges?”
    Both nodded. Hodges said, “I don’t know how much planning went into it, but it definitely didn’t look like any maniac had been there. More like an executioner. Did his job, did it well, and split.”
    “Okay. Leaning toward organized then. Unfortunately, a disorganized killer might be easier to spot—might look a little crazier if you want to use that term. Your organized killer is usually intelligent, socially and sexually competent, has a car in good condition, and does some kind of skilled work.”
    O’Rourke said, “Shee-it. How do you know that?”
    Cindy Lou smiled. “That’s the profile. But remember, the Axeman’s probably a combination. When you get to know him a little better, you might find out he’s high in the birth order, his father has a stable work history, he uses alcohol when he kills, he lives with a partner, he kills when he’s under precipitating stress, and he follows the crime in the news media.” She smiled. “Or you might not. The main thing is, I probably wouldn’t look for somebody on the fringes, a social outcast type. This person probably functions pretty well in the world.
    “Even if the profile didn’t say he was bright, I think the letter would indicate that. He’s got enough education to know about the original Axeman and enough brains to haul the story out again.”
    Skip said, “What about the E.T. thing?”
    “Two possibilities that I can see. First of all, he might believe it. But I don’t think so. These weirdos don’t usually become spacemen—more likely they see them or hear them. And this one doesn’t seem the type for that—that would be more the disorganized profile. The other thought is that it’s just a clever update of the original. Which fits with the organized profile. But you know what I don’t like? All that extremely childish stuff—’I’m baaack’ and that kind of crap. We’re talking a case of very arrested development here.”
    “I thought it was funny,” said O’Rourke.
    “We’re talking two cases.”
    Joe said quickly, “What about the A?”
    “The A suggests a need to be recognized and the letter confirms that. But this dude’s wily. Maybe he’s lying about it standing for ‘Axeman.’ It’s funny he picked that name when he doesn’t use an axe.”
    “But that was the name of the historical killer,” said Cappello.
    “Then why not use the historical weapon? There’s a false note there someplace. There’s a piece of every criminal—even little kids who raid cookie jars—that wants to confess. Maybe this guy started to write his name and some sane