Free In the Shadow of Gotham by Stefanie Pintoff Page A

car.”
    I involuntarily shuddered, thinking of the case notes Alistair had shared with me.
    “I take it Sarah Wingate was a blonde?” Fred Ebbings said in a weary tone.
    Alistair nodded and then summarized the same material he had shared this morning with me, aiming to refresh their memories. I listened, taking stock of the differing personalities in the room. Alistair had assembled a diverse group of people for this project—so diverse, in fact, that I wondered how they managed to work together productively on a daily basis. Alistair, an ebullient personality who enjoyed being the center of attention, seemed an odd partner for Fred Ebbings’s dry wit or Tom Baxter’s common sense. For his part, Horace seemed to be a typical overanxious graduate student. And I could not yet figure out what to make of Isabella, whose quick intelligence probably helped Alistair more than he seemed to realize.
    As I listened, I experienced a brief pang of conscience: To approach a murder case in such a backhanded way was contrary to everything I had learned about proper procedure. In a textbook investigation, I would work to learn as much as possible about the victim herself. After all, some facet of her life—some circumstance or some connection still unknown—had inevitably led to her death. But Alistair made a convincing case that Fromley
was
that very connection I sought.
    “I believe if we analyze the crime-scene behavior we find evident during Sarah Wingate’s murder”—Alistair gestured to the large chalkboard that dominated the left side of the room—“then I can allay any remaining doubts the rest of you may have about his guilt.”
    “Most of us know Fromley’s history, and I assume you’vetold Detective Ziele the relevant details,” Tom Baxter said. “But have you fully explained your theory about crime-scene behavior? If you haven’t, the rest will make no sense.”
    “That’s a good idea,” Horace Wood said, for no apparent reason other than wanting to be included in the discussion.
    “Tom, I appreciate the reminder. That’s exactly where we should begin.” Alistair seemed genuinely relieved to have other minds helping him. “Could you summarize our views?”
    “Sure,” Tom said. “And then I’d like to hear more about the evidence that convinces you Fromley is the man Detective Ziele seeks.”
    Tom walked to the front of the room. “Even before criminological theorists like Alistair’s mentor, Dr. Hans Gross, began to spell it out for us in journals such as
Kriminologie
”—he tapped a large line of journals on the bookcase shelf immediately behind him—“I think even regular police officers like Detective Ziele recognized that different criminals commit crimes in ways that reflect their unique identity. The detective can correct me if I’m wrong, but suppose we found a dead body in an East River warehouse with a bullet to the back of the head. I’m sure he would immediately suspect Paul Kelly or Monk Eastman.”
    These were—or had been—the leaders of two notorious street gangs, the Five Points gang and the Eastman gang. Though now that Monk Eastman was doing time in Sing Sing, it was Kid Twist Zwerbach who headed the Eastman gang. What Tom had just described was an execution-style murder, and he was correct that the police would suspect an organized crime figure, not an individual offender.
    Tom went on. “On the other hand, if we found a man shot or stabbed to death on the street, we might suppose that he diedfollowing an argument that got out of hand; in that case, the detective would look for someone with a quarrel or grudge against the victim.” He took a deep breath before offering his final example. “And if we found a man poisoned to death from arsenic, we might look to the victim’s wife or another woman in his life.” Tom looked to me for confirmation.
    “That’s right,” I said, “because the method itself suggests something important about the culprit. Certain