An Emblematic Woman ● S. Reid | ✓

35- Puzzle Master

Russo

"Lawson has been on staff with us for ten years. Works metro stories," we drove down to the DC Ledger, where Keith Pitt had agreed to meet with us about his employees.

"What can you tell us about him?" I asked.

"Real scrapper, always brings home the story. Keeps to himself sometimes," he replied.

"We understand he was working a piece on RDK.Serial killer from the late '70s," Reid said. Keith looked confused.

"He never mentioned it. Lawson!" he shouted across the room, and a black man stood up from a cubicle. There was something wrong, because RDK profiled as a white man in his mid-forties, early fifties. This man couldn't have been older then forty.

"That's Mark?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Never mind!" I shouted to him. He sat back down.

"You see, the reporter we're looking for is a white guy, mid-40s, short, pasty," Reid explained.

"That sounds like more then half my guys," he said.

"Well, the victim that he interviewed said that he had thick, black-rimmed glasses," I said.

"That actually sounds like one of our researchers. Humphrey Jacobs, works in the 'morgue'," 

Down in the basement, it looked as though nobody had come to clean in over a century. I thought up a little joke how Reid would love to have a library this big. I kept that to myself though. Sitting to a side of the room was a desk with large, perfect squares cut out of papers. And sticking out of the desk was a red-handle scalpel.

"Check this out," I slid on a pair of gloves and picked up the scalpel, "It's what they use to cut out articles," I said.

"The M.E told Morgan that the murder weapon would be a scalpel. Matches the weapon used to slice up the park victim's panties," Reid said.

"And stab wounds on vic number two," I replied.

"Excuse me? May I help you?" We turned and found a girl, probably a college student, who had a large box of papers in her hands.

"Yeah, we're looking for Humphrey Jacobs," I said.

"He's on vacay this week, left me with this whole mess," she replied.

"What's he like to work with?" Reid asked.

"Oh, a real inspiration. He's a constant reminder not to get stuck down here for 20 years, like him," she replied.

"Did you ever get a bad vibe off him?" I asked.

"He's a miserable human being. Never says a word, just stares. Creeps me out," she replied.

"You have any idea where he's on vacation?" I asked.

"Probably sitting alone in his apartment. Finishing off one of those puzzle books he's always working on,"

Morgan

"Our unsub has a penchant for puzzles. Puzzles give him a smug sense of victory, possibly to bolster a low self-esteem. Maybe from failing art class," Reid said through the phone.

"So these are the symbols he drew on the victim's feet?" I asked.

"The pictures should string together to spell out our clue. He's made murder into a game," he replied.

"Wouldn't be the first time. By giving us clues, he's absolving himself of responsibility. If they die, it's not his fault, it's ours," I said.

"Exactly,"