She had not heard about it. She was on leave and had been deliberately avoiding that kind of news. Germain had lived in Japan until she graduated high school and was familiar with the term, but hearing it pronounced in English gave it an edge of unfamiliarity.
"I would like to solve this case," 707 said. "I need to arrest the killer. But your help in this matter is vital, Tabitha Germain."
"Why me?" she typed. This could be taken to mean either "Why do you need my help?" or "Why should I help you?" but 707 took the first meaning without a moment's hesitation. Sarcasm appeared to be lost on him.
"Naturally, because you are a skilled investigator, Tabitha Germain."
"I'm on a leave of absence..."
"I know. Isn't that convenient?" Three victims, he'd said.
Obviously, it depended on the victims, but from what Seven had told her this case had not yet reached the kind of scale required for the FBI to get involved. She would normally have assumed that this was why he had approached her instead of going through the FBI director, but this was much too sudden. And she had been given almost no time to think things through. But it had been enough time for her to wonder why 707 would be involved in a case too small for the FBI to notice. She did not imagine he would answer that question over her computer, however.
She glanced at her clock. She had one more minute.
"Okay. I'll help in any way I can," Germain typed.
Seven answered instantly, "Thank you. I knew you would agree." He did not sound very thankful.
"Let me explain how you will contact me in the future. We have no time, so I will be brief. First.. "
First, she had to know the basic details of the Wara Ningyo Murder Cases. On July 31st, 2013, in the bedroom of a small house on Hollywood's Insist Street, a man named Believe Bridesmaid was killed. He lived alone, working as a freelance writer. He had written articles for dozens of magazines under many different names and was relatively well known in the industry--which means exactly nothing, but in this case appears to have been fairly accurate. He was strangled. He was first knocked out with some sort of drug and then strangled from behind with some sort of string. There were no signs of struggle-all things considered, a smoothly executed crime. The second murder occurred four days later, on August 4th, 2013.
This time it was downtown, in an apartment on Third Avenue, and the victim was a female named Quarter Queen. This time the victim was beaten to death, her skull caved in from the front by something long and hard. Once again, the victim appeared to have been drugged first and was unconscious at the time of death. As for why it was determined that these two murders were committed by the same killer... well, anyone who saw the scene of the crime instantly noticed the connection.
There were straw voodoo dolls nailed to the walls at both places. These dolls were specifically known as Wara Ningyo.
Four of them on Insist Street. Three of them on Third Avenue. Nailed to the walls.
The Wara Ningyo had been covered in the news, so strictly speaking there was a chance of a copycat crime, but several other details matched as well, leading the police to begin treating the case as a serial killing. But if that was the case, that left a very big question-there was absolutely nothing to connect Believe Bridesmaid with Quarter Queen. Neither one of them had the other's number in their cell phones, neither one of them had the other's card in their business card holder, and besides, Quarter Queen did not own a cell phone or a business card holder-she was a thirteen-year-old girl. What connection could she possibly have to a forty-four-year-old professional freelance writer? If there was a connection, it was probably through the girl's mother, who was out of town when the murder happened, but given the difference in neighborhoods and situations between the two, it was still difficult to see any significant connection.
To use a term from an old-fashioned detective novel, there was a missing link-they could not find any connection between the victims. The investigation had naturally focused on this, but nine days later (by which time the media had begun calling them the Wara Ningyo Murders) on August 13th, 2009, the third murder happened.
There were two Wara Ningyo on the wall. There was one less doll with each murder.
The third murder was in West L.A., in a townhouse near the Metrorail Glass Station, and the victim's name was Backyard Bottomslash. This victim was another female-age twenty-six, midway between the first and second victims-and she was a bank clerk.
Once again, she had no connections with Believe Bridesmaid or Quarter Queen at all. It seemed unlikely they had even bumped into each other on the street. She died from loss of blood-massive hemorrhaging. Strangulation, beating, and finally stabbing-each time a different method of murder, giving the unnatural impression that he was trying something new with each killing. And he left no useful clues at any of the scenes. The only other thing to investigate was the link between them, but since none was found-which was very strange for murders of this type-the third murder left the police at a complete loss. The killer was far better at this than the police were.
I have no intention of praising Beyond Birthday, but in this case I will give him the credit he is due. Oh, right-in addition to the Wara Ningyo, there was one other major similarity between the scenes- they were all locked rooms. Just like an old mystery novel. The detectives investigating the case had not put a lot of value on this particular aspect of the case.. but when Tabitha Germain received the file on the case from 707, this word was the first thing that caught her attention.
When Germain began investigating the case-not as an FBI agent, but as an individual under Seven's supervision-it was the day after she received Seven's request, August 15th. She was off duty, so her badge and gun had been taken away from her, leaving her with no more rights to weaponry than any ordinary citizen.
But she did not particularly mind-Germain had never been the kind of agent to throw her authority around. She was a little put nit, and her mental condition was a little choppy, so she was not in her best condition to tackle the case, but in that sense her emotional slate was similar to Seven's own. In other words, she was not good at working in groups, and her ability shone brightest when she escaped he bindings of organizations and worked on her own-which in him might explain why she had a pinch of resentment coloring her eclings toward 707.
But on August 15th, at just past noon, Tabitha Germain was on Hollywood's Insist Street, the scene of the first murder. Looking up it the house, which seemed a trifle large for a man who lived alone, Germain reached into her bag, took out a cell phone, and dialed the number she'd been given. She had been told it was scrambled fivefold and completely safe. Not only safe for 707, but also safe for the off duty Germain. "Seven, I've reached the scene."
"Good," he said, as if he'd been waiting for her.
Germain briefly wondered where Seven was, in what kind of environment he went about his investigations, but she quickly realized that it made no difference either way.
"What should I do?"
"Tabitha Germain, are you inside the building or outside?"
"Outside. I'm headed toward the scene of the crime but have not yet entered the yard."
"Then please go inside. It should be unlocked. I've arranged for that."
"Thanks."
Well prepared.
She grit her teeth, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic. Normally she would have considered being prepared a point worth respecting, but she found it hard to accept that anyone was this thoroughly prepared.
She opened the door and entered the house. The victim had been killed in his bedroom, and Germain had been involved in enough investigations with the FBI to make a fair guess at where that room was located from the outside. A house like this usually had the bedroom on the first floor, so she moved accordingly. It'd been two weeks since the murder, but they were obviously keeping the place clean. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere.
"But, Seven..."
"What?"
"According to the data I received yesterday-not to state the obvious, but the police have already examined the scene."
"Yes."
"I'm not sure how you did it, but you already have the police reports covering that."
"Yes."
