The Cold Moon

at a garage sale.
    But “could’ve” is a word that goes with the territory of crime scene work, Rhyme reflected.
    You have to start somewhere.
    THE WATCHMAKER
----
    CRIME SCENE ONE
    Location:
    • Repair pier in Hudson River, 22nd Street.
    Victim:
    • Identity unknown.
    • Male.
    • Possibly middle-aged or older, and may have coronary condition (presence of anticoagulants in blood).
    • No other drugs, infection or disease in blood.
    • Coast Guard and ESU divers checking for body and evidence in New York Harbor.
    • Checking missing persons reports.
    Perp:
    • See below.
    M.O.:
    • Perp forced victim to hold on to deck, over water, cut fingers or wrists until he fell.
    • Time of attack: between 6 P.M. Monday and 6 A.M. Tuesday.
    Evidence:
    • Blood type AB positive.
    • Fingernail torn, unpolished, wide.
    • Portion of chain-link fence cut with common wire cutters, untraceable.
    • Clock. See below.
    • Poem. See below.
    • Fingernail markings on deck.
    • No discernible trace, no fingerprints, no footprints, no tire tread marks.
    CRIME SCENE TWO
    Location:
    • Alley off Cedar Street, near Broadway, behind three commercial buildings (back doors closed at 8:30 to 10 P.M. ) and one government administration building (back door closed at 6 P.M. ).
    • Alley is a cul-de-sac. Fifteen feet wide by one hundred and four feet long, surfaced in cobblestones, body was fifteen feet from Cedar Street.
    Victim:
    • Theodore Adams.
    • Lived in Battery Park.
    • Freelance copywriter.
    • No known enemies.
    • No warrants, state or federal.
    • Checking for a connection with buildings around alley. None found.
    Perp:
    • The Watchmaker.
    • Male.
    • No database entries for the Watchmaker.
    M.O.:
    • Dragged from vehicle to alley, where iron bar was suspended over him. Eventually crushed throat.
    • Awaiting medical examiner’s report to confirm.
    • No evidence of sexual activity.
    • Time of death: approximately 10:15 P.M. to 11 P.M. Monday night. Medical examiner to confirm.
    Evidence:
    • Clock.
      • No explosives, chemical- or bioagents.
      • Identical to clock at pier.
      • No fingerprints, minimal trace.
      • Arnold Products, Framingham, MA. Calling to find distributors and retailers.
    • Poem left by perp at both scenes.
      • Computer printer, generic paper, HP LaserJet ink.
      • Text:
    The full Cold Moon is in the sky,
    shining on the corpse of earth,
    signifying the hour to die
    and end the journey begun at birth.
    —The Watchmaker
      • Not in any poetry databases; probably his own.
      • Cold Moon is lunar month, the month of death.
    • $60 in pocket, no serial number leads; prints negative.
    • Fine sand used as “obscuring agent.” Sand was generic. Because he’s returning to the scene?
    • Metal bar, 81 pounds, is needle-eye span. Not being used in construction across from the alleyway. No other source found.
    • Duct tape, generic, but cut precisely, unusual. Exactly the same lengths.
    • Thallium sulfate (rodent poison) found in sand.
    • Soil containing fish protein found inside victim’s jacket.
    • Very little trace found.
    • Brown fibers, probably automotive carpeting.
    Other:
    • Vehicle.
      • Probably Ford Explorer, about three years old. Brown carpet.
      • Review of license tags of cars in area Tuesday morning reveals no warrants. No tickets issued Monday night.
    • Checking with Vice about prostitutes, re:witness.
    There’s a good-old-boy network in urban government, a matrix of money, patronage and power extending like a steel cobweb everywhere, high and low, connecting politicos to civil servants to business associates to labor bosses to workers. . . . It’s endless.
    New York City is no exception, of course, but the good-old-boy network Amelia Sachs found herself enmeshed in at the moment had one difference: a prime player was a good old girl.
    The woman was in her midfifties, wearing a blue uniform with plenty of gingerbread on the front—commendations, ribbons, buttons, bars. An American flag pin, of course. (Like politicians, NYPD brass who appear in public have to wear the red, white and blue.) She had a pageboy cut of dull salt-and-pepper hair, framing a long, somber face.
    Marilyn Flaherty was an inspector, one of the few women at this level in the department (the rank of inspector trumps captain). She was a senior officer in the Operations