finally decided on my old high school shirt and skirt uniform, which I was now barely able to squeeze into, and packed it for work.
“Steady breathing, steady pose,” the Renunciate muttered to me when he saw me wobble in class as I recalled O’Ryan’s twinly repugnance. Thanks to my teacher’s constant guidance, I was gaining greater strength and flexibility than I’d ever had before. But during final relaxation, as hard as I tried to achieve that divine vacancy of thought—I found I was unable do so. And it wasn’t the usual petty distractions that prevented me from emptying my mind. It started out as a kind of shimmering light. Slowly, though, a vision emerged. It was a figure—a tall svelte female, no Lady of Guadalupe, posing proudly. She seemed to be naked. Her arms were stretched out majestically, but her hands seemed to be clenched. Then I realized she wasn’t making fists, she was holding something. From the position of her right elbow, it had to be a bow and arrow. but why would such an image enter my head? Instinctively, to get a better look at her, I opened my eyes, and poof! She was gone. When I closed them again I couldn’t get her back. A moment later the Renunciate had us all doing final chants and it was over.
As the class was leaving I lagged behind. He spotted me and said he thought I was really coming along.
“Has anyone ever had visions in class?” I asked.
“All the time,” he said calmly.
Before I could be more specific, another student came up and asked him about ashrams, so I waved goodbye and left. I reached my front door just as Maggie arrived.
“Where’s that gorgeous hunk you were with earlier?” she asked as we went upstairs together.
“Eddie had to run,” I said, without adding that he had lost interest because I had a twin brother who looked freakishly like a male version of me.
“Let me ask you a hypothetical,” she asked. “If I ever saw you with Noel Holden, would you introduce us?”
“Geez, I’ve only met the man once myself,” I replied, somewhat pissed.
She giggled in embarrassment and dashed inside her apartment like a chipmunk.
On Monday morning, Bernie reported for work late. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses as he limped into his office. When Annie followed him in, I heard a gasp.
As I stepped inside too, Bernie released a cascade of wet, non-productive coughs, then explained, “I was at a bar over on Twenty-sixth Street, had a few drinks, so I went back to my car to sleep it off. When I wake up—boom.” He removed his cap to reveal a walnut-sized purple lump.
“Looks like it could use a few stitches,” I observed, looking at the jagged gash along its swollen center.
“What happened?” Alex said, coming in late.
“Some cocksucker walloped me over the head and took my cash.”
“Holy shit! You didn’t get a look?”
“I was passed out. I just woke up the next morning with a hell of a headache and blood all over my freakin dashboard. The thing is, I got this awful feeling it was a Maglite I was hit with.”
“He didn’t get your gun, though?” Alex asked.
“No, I learned long ago to stash my gun if I’m going drinking.” He smiled and said, “Fuck! Two hundred bucks—gone.”
“But he left the wallet?”
“He musta seen my shield,” Bernie said. “That would’ve been a disaster. I’d have had to tell the captain.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m staking out my car for the next few nights in case the fucker comes back. I’m thinking he followed me from the bar, so maybe I’ll go back there and act like I’m loaded.”
“Bern, be careful. Go to Robbery. If you think he’s still working the area, let them do the stakeout.”
“I just can’t fucking believe I got hit. I thought the city was supposed to be safe now.”
We convinced Bernie to go to the hospital, but before he left he ordered the three of us to spend the entire morning on the computer working on the Blonde Hooker case, breaking down the various components of the crimes. We typed them into the NYSPIN system, trying to put together a broad list of possible suspects.
Between the solicitation and murders of Mary Lynn MacArthur, Denise Giantonni, and Nelly Linquist, our killer could’ve had priors for anything from credit card fraud, robbery, and possession of narcotics to abduction, assaulting prostitutes, and post-mortem mutilation. Bernie told us to focus broadly on those who had been convicted or even faced accusations of attacking women. The fact that our killer hadn’t sexually violated any of his victims made it difficult for sex crimes to place him.
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