Red Death

by Alan Jacobson

  “I am. In many things.”

  Russell shot a glance at Vail. “And I’m not sure how to take that.”

  Vail held up her left hand, where a two-karat emerald cut diamond occupied her ring finger.

  “Flirt only,” he said with a nod. “Don’t touch. I get it.”

  “Good,” Vail said. “And don’t forget you’re married.”

  He grunted. “My wife and I are getting a divorce. Besides, you’re too old for me.”

  Vail’s eyes widened.

  Russell held up a hand. “Just kidding.” He gave her a double take. “You weren’t going to slug me, were you?”

  “I was thinking about it. But I just realized my anger management classes worked.”

  Russell jutted his chin back. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. You’re still conscious.”

  Russell’s squint suggested he did not know whether or not to believe her.

  Vail gave her rolling bag’s handle a tug as she started walking.

  “You know,” Russell said, “we kind of met once before. A few years ago.”

  “How do people ‘kind of meet’? You mean we were in the same room?”

  Russell pursed his lips. “Exactly. Good guess. I’m impressed.”

  “If that impresses you, I might end up knocking your socks off on this case.”

  “I wasn’t really that impressed. I was just being nice.”

  “Like when I didn’t slug you?”

  “Yeah, kinda like that.”

  He directed her across the road.

  “I assume we’re going right to your morgue?”

  “Actually, I got us tickets to tonight’s Jack Johnson concert at Aloha Stadium. Figured we’d go straight there, catch the warmup band.” He gauged her response. She did not bite. “Yes, directly to the morgue.”

  “So we’ve got two dead middle-aged women. And no signs of trauma?”

  Russell nodded. “Weird, I know.”

  “Unusual—as far as asphyxiations go. But not weird. What did the tox report show?”

  He pointed the way to the parked car. “All we got was a heart rhythm issue. Arrhythmic heart dysfunction. Something like that. Apparently it causes suffocation pretty quickly. Best we can tell, the second victim—Dawn Mahelona—was in her office and started coughing and choking. Ran outside to get some fresh air. But she didn’t make it very far. Twenty or thirty feet and she dropped dead.”

  “Same thing with the first vic?”

  “More or less. Daughter found her after the fact, but that’s what the ME thinks happened.”

  Vail processed that. “Highly likely this UNSUB is going to kill again.” Vail did not want to insult Russell by defining UNSUB as unknown subject. Although originally a Bureau term, detectives had been adopting it for a while now.

  Russell stopped behind an unmarked Ford Interceptor police vehicle. “You sure of that?”

  “Unfortunately. Yeah. These offenders enjoy killing too much. That much I know. But I don’t know who, when, or where. Although I can tell you how.”

  Russell pulled open the driver’s door. “How?”

  “Pretty much the same way. These UNSUBs, or unknown subjects, have a certain way of doing things. We used to call it a signature, but that term’s outdated. We now refer to it as ritual. Ritual behavior. No matter what you call it, concept’s the same.”

  “So this ritual is something they deliberately do. For effect?”

  “Actually, no. They’re not aware that they’re doing things a particular way for a particular reason. It feels right to them, comforting in a way. The fact that they do these specific things with their victims helps us link different murders together because their ritual doesn’t change over time, which is extremely important. If we can also use their MO to link the cases, so much the better. But because MO changes, it’s less reliable.

  “Ritual also tells us a great deal about that UNSUB. His level of education, his probable age range, upbringing, occupation, things like that.”

  “Now I know why Lance recommended you.”

  “Criminal investigative analysis is a handy tool to have in your forensics kit.”

  They arrived twenty minutes later. Russell led Vail into the building, then stopped when he saw a balding man in his fifties. “Chief!”

  The man turned, saw Vail, and his face brightened—for a split second, and then creased into a squint.

  “Karen, this is Deputy Chief Brad Ferraro. Chief, Karen Vail, FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

  Vail held out her right hand and it hung orphaned in the air for a moment before Ferraro took it and shook—and quickly broke the bond.

  Something’s up with this guy. Did I once meet him and piss him off? There are so many, I’ve lost count.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Vail said with a toothy smile.

  “I asked her here for a case.”

  Ferraro cleared his throat. “Uh-huh.”

  Russell looked from Ferraro to Vail, who shot a glance at Russell.

  “I’m sorry,” Vail said. “Have we met?”

  “No.”

  Oh, but there’s something.

  “Okay then,” Russell said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve gotta run. Meeting up with Dr. Kuoko. Good to see you, Chief.”

  “Yeah,” Ferraro said, giving Vail a sideways look as he moved off to his left.

  As they continued down the hall, Vail nudged Russell’s right arm. “What the hell was that?”

  “Weird. That’s what it was. Never seen him behave like that. He’s a good dude. Laid back, friendly.”

  “Sometimes I bring out the worst in people.”

  “So I’m told.”

  Vail stopped abruptly. “Say again?”

  Russell turned and slowed. “Burden. He warned me.”

  They began walking again, Vail processing that. “Did he really—”

  “He was joking. I got the impression Burden likes you a lot. You want, I’ll touch base with Ferraro later, see what the deal is.”

  “Let it go. I wanna keep a low profile here. Do my job, avoid conflict, help you put this bastard behind bars, and go home.”

  Who the hell am I kidding? When have I ever been able to do that?

  “Consider it forgotten.”

  They entered the morgue, where they found Keiki Kuoko, who looked official yet scholarly in his blue scrubs and black rimmed glasses and charcoal-and-gray hair. Russell made introductions—which went more smoothly than their encounter with Ferraro.

  “Where do we stand with Dawn Mahelona’s autopsy?” Russell asked.

  “Just completed the postmortem. I assume you want to see the body.”

  “Let’s start there,” Vail said.

  Kuoko led them down a hallway, his black wide-soled Clarks carrying his thick mass as the others’ shoes clippity-clapped down the corridor. He pushed through a locked door and walked over to a table, then tapped the edge of a spotlight. It brightly illuminated the corpse.

  He gave his report to Vail and she absorbed all the details without comment. She already had a sense of what they were dealing with but did not want to interrupt. It was something she had promised Robby she would work on.

  He bet her that she was wasting her time.

  “So,” Russell said, glancing across the table at Vail. “What are we looking at here?”

  “Keep in mind we’ve only got two bodies. But I think there are some conclusions I can draw based on the behavior I’m seeing.”

  “I’m not seeing much ‘behavior,’” Russell said.

  Vail grinned. “Which is why Burden told you to call me.”

  “Good point.”

  “Think of what I do as having someone who can speak a language that you can’t. So there co
uld be writing all over the crime scene walls—symbols that contain all sorts of clues as to who the killer is. But it looks like gibberish to you because you don’t speak that language. Then I walk in and tell you what it says because I can read it.”

  Russell pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “It usually is. But then you get an offender like this who doesn’t interact with the body and it kind of makes it tough to read, even for me.”

  “What do you mean, he doesn’t interact with the victim?”

  “Interaction with a victim’s body is a hallmark for a number of offender types. Until we know more, based on witness reports, there was no direct confrontation between the victim and offender. He didn’t physically choke them.”

  And that doesn’t really add up. But first things first.

  Vail fixed her gaze on Dawn Mahelona’s face. “Your offender is selecting specific women. Again, we’ve only got a small sample size, but it’s probably not a coincidence the killer chose two older brunette females. And that they were killed in largely the same way: asphyxiated.”

  “And there was no trauma,” Russell said.

  “Careful,” Vail said. “The absence of something doesn’t necessarily mean you can assume the presence of something.”

  “Come again?” Kuoko said.

  “Could be there’s no trauma because trauma wasn’t necessary, not because it says anything about the killer.” Vail looked over Dawn Mahelona’s body. “Tox screen was unremarkable?”

  “Yep.”

  Vail thought a moment, then pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Give me a couple of minutes.” She walked away, removed her phone, and dialed Tim Meadows, her crime scene colleague at the FBI lab in Quantico.

  “And to what do I owe the reason for your call?” Meadows asked.

  “I have a case—”

  “Of course you do, Karen. Do you ever call me for any other reason? Like to go on a picnic?”

  “That’d be weird, Tim.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like picnics. Too much work just so you can sit outside with ants crawling all over your feet, flies landing on your food, having to swat away yellow jackets and bees. All while sneezing because your allergy meds can’t keep up with pollen’s assault on your system.”

  “You’re such a killjoy, Karen.”

  “So I’ve been told. Listen, I called because I’ve got a question. On a case. Sorry, no picnic invite this time.”

  “Truth be told,” Meadows said, “I’m not sure I want to go on a picnic ever again.”

  “Right. Well, we’ve got an offender here who might be a poisoner. Vic asphyxiated, no signs of trauma, clean tox report, some kind of heart arrhythmia, and I’m thinking—”

  “Aconite.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So then what’s the question?”

  “I really just called to see if you want to catch a movie some time.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Tim, I love you. You know that. Yes, we’ll grab a movie. Some emotional rom-com. Sound good?”

  “Hell yeah. Name the time and place.”

  “You have no idea what a rom-com is, do you?”

  “Not a clue. But I’m up for it.”

  “Romantic comedy. And thanks for the confirmation on the aconite.”

  “Just a guess. You know that, right? You didn’t give me much to go on.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m going to put your name in my report. If you’re wrong, that’d be … embarrassing. No one’ll know. I’ll keep it to myself. My idea. My deduction.”

  “But what if I’m right?”

  “Then you can take solace in knowing you were right.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “I’ll make sure you get credit.”

  “Just so we’re on the same page here, tell the ME that aconite won’t show up on a tox screen. He’ll want to look for the alkaloids aconite and aconitine. Aconitine is thought to be the key toxin. Ingestion of even a small amount will damage the heart and cause severe slowing—and stopping—of the heart. That’s what causes death. Heck, even touching it can kill you.”

  “How fast?”

  “Too many factors. Aconitum napellus isn’t that well studied. There aren’t many documented cases. The root’s the most toxic part of the plant, but some literature suggests that the leaves can also cause significant health problems. There are some anecdotal stories of a physician dying from chewing on a couple of leaves to demonstrate that it’s not deadly.”

  “Joke was on him, I guess.”

  “Uh … yeah. The joke was on him. You know, sometimes I wonder about your mental fitness, Karen.”

  “Go on, Tim.”

  “You’ve also got the usual variables of how potent the strain is of that particular plant specimen, how concentrated the toxin is, how it’s administered, the victim’s mass, her rate of metabolism—all that technical stuff you’re not interested in. Are you asleep yet?”

  “What?” Vail said. “You still talking?”

  “Exactly. Take care, Karen.”

  Vail worked through that information as she walked back to the huddle with Kuoko and Russell. “I’ve got some ideas. I’m going out on a little bit of a limb here, but I believe our UNSUB is a poisoner. Poisons have been used as an efficient method for killing for about two thousand years.”

  Russell and Kuoko shared a confused glance.

  “I just told you,” Kuoko said. “Tox screen was unremarkable. No evidence of a toxin of any sort in either victim.”

  “I know. But there are some extremely effective, deadly poisons that would present in ways that mimic what our victims experienced. Belladonna will cause a dry throat and can cause coughing. But the most obvious is aconite. It’s very deadly—and won’t show up on a tox report. You need to look for the alkaloids aconite and aconitine.”

  Kuoko’s mouth dropped open. “Yes.” He pointed at her. “Yes.”

  “No,” Russell said. “Explain.”

  “Aconite isn’t that hard to come by,” Kuoko said slowly, still processing the revelation. “It’s derived from a plant. Monkshood or wolfsbane, I believe it’s called.”

  “Leaves behind no blood toxicity. And I think this is the most likely one used by our UNSUB because the only postmortem sign of aconite poisoning is—wait for it—asphyxia. The toxin causes—”

  “Malignant ventricular tachyarrhythmia,” Kuoko said with a nod. “Fancy medical term which means that the electrical signals that normally make your heart beat in a specific rhythm get interrupted. The heart’s lower chambers, the ventricles, quiver, or fibrillate, instead of contracting rhythmically and beating normally.”

  Russell folded his arms across his chest. “Well that doesn’t sound good.”

  Kuoko snorted. “The heart beats to pump oxygen-rich blood to the brain, liver, kidneys—all your organs. If your heart doesn’t beat in rhythm, it doesn’t pump the blood. And when it stops, you’re in cardiac arrest.”

  “The person stops breathing,” Vail said.

  Kuoko nodded. “And dies, yeah.”

  Russell shook his head in disbelief. “So how’d our killer get the poison into their bodies?”

  Vail held up a hand. “That’s the second question. To narrow our field of suspects in a poisoning case, first question I ask deals with access. How’d the killer acquire the toxin?”

  “Why is that more important than how the killer gets the poison into the vics’ bodies?”

  “Because if we’re dealing with an unusual substance or chemical, who has access to it could tell us a lot about who the offender is and where he works. What his knowledge level is. How resourceful he is. And a lot more depending on the toxin used.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not the case here.” Kuoko spre
ad his hands apart. “Remember? Aconite is a plant. Its roots are sold in lots of places. They’re used in herbal medicine for treating neck and back pain. But if you don’t handle it properly—or God forbid take too much, which is very easy to do, you’re a dead duck.”

  “So back to my question,” Russell said. “How’d our killer poison his victims?”

  Kuoko shrugged. “Doesn’t take much. The toxin’s very rapidly absorbed, even through the skin. Touching the plant’s leaves is all it takes.”

  Russell dropped his gaze to Dawn Mahelona’s face. “Jesus.”

  “The root is the most potent part of the plant,” Vail said. “At least that’s what I was told by my forensic guy.”

  Kuoko nodded. “Pacific Islanders used to put it on the ends of their harpoons. They would shoot whales and wait till they washed ashore a couple of days later.”

  “If I’m remembering correctly, the most famous case of murder by aconite was the Roman emperor Claudius,” Vail said. “His wife mixed aconite in with his mushrooms. Don’t ever cross a pissed off woman.”

  Kuoko chuckled. “I knew there was a reason why I don’t like mushrooms.”

  “And why you have to keep your wife happy.”

  He laughed again. “You got that right.”

  “Let’s get some tissue samples over to the lab for testing. Maybe they can test for the metabolites of aconite. I’m assuming that’s what we’re dealing with here, but let’s confirm it.”

  “Done,” Kuoko said.

  “So how do we catch this guy?” Russell asked. “Not like we have something to trace, and even if we could, it’s just a plant. Not like it’s a drug with restricted access or processed in any unique or monitored way.”

  Vail nodded slowly. “Makes it harder, for sure. I’ll see what I can do to narrow the field, point us in the right direction. For one, historically, poisoners have often been women. Male poisoners are doctors and nurses and their murders take place in nursing homes and hospitals. Female poisoners take a less direct, less violent approach. Since it’s generally speaking harder for a woman to overpower a man, a toxin puts them on equal footing.”

  “I’m sensing a but,” Russell said.

  “You’re sensing correctly. And here it is: But I’m not ready to commit one way or another just yet. I’m processing everything. And it’s still a very small sample size.”