Free The Last Blue Plate Special by Abigail Padgett Page A

probably married or living with
     a mate. Financially secure, drives a fairly new car, is regarded as quiet and personable by neighbors and friends. May have
     a violent hobby of some kind.”
    “Yeah, I picked up on that, too,” I said. “But how do you know about the
car
?”
    “It’s in the Holmes typology on ‘organized’ serial killers. I just threw it in.”
    “What did you do with the biblical language factor?”
    “Same stuff your dad came up with, put in psychiatric terms.”
    I sighed. “We really don’t have much, do we?”
    “More than you think,” Roxie answered. “It’s just that there isn’t enough time to use it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    I could hear her inhaling deeply and then whistling softly between her teeth.
    “Sword will decompensate now, quickly, begin to fall apart. This person has probably kept a lid on very confused and violent
     feelings for a long time. Then something triggered those feelings, something intolerable. Sword had to act out and had to
     advertise the reasoning behind it. But our subject knows right from wrong and the conflict between that knowledge and the
     need to justify some personal confusion through killing will produce intolerable stress. There may be additional deaths in
     an attempt to reduce the stress, but they’ll only produce more. The subject may commit suicide as the only way to stop the
     stress. That could happen at any time, and unless evidence is left behind, nobody will ever know that the subject has killed.
     I don’t have a good feeling about this thing, Blue. It’s weird.”
    We talked for a while, agreed to meet in town later for dinner, and then I’d watch Rox rehearse her country and western dance
     team. Brontë and I would sleep at her place. The wages of our deep commitment to nonenmeshment.
    The phone was ringing when I hung up. Rathbone.
    “We need somebody at Emerald’s revival this afternoon,” he said. “Can you do it?”
    “Sure, but what am I there for?” I answered.
    “Just get a feel for the thing. See if this might be where our boy got his Sword of Heaven ideas.”
    “How do you know it’s a boy?” I asked. “Neither Rox nor I are sure about that from the available data.”
    “It’s always a boy,” Rathbone stated flatly. “Women just don’t do this kind of crime.”
    Then I phoned to check on BB, who said the radical preacher had been called to a deathbed, so they’d had to cancel their plans
     for the gospel concert. He’d be happy to go with me to Ruby Emerald’s revival, he said. He hadn’t been to one since the summers
     he spent visiting relatives in Mississippi. We agreed to meet in the parking lot of a college stadium Ruby Emerald had leased
     for her event.
    I went into my bedroom to search for whatever you wear to a revival. With my cropped hair, in sandals, black knit dress, and
     beige linen jacket, I looked too liberal. Roxie and I would pick me for a jury trying a death penalty case in a minute. The
     addition of a straw bowler with a flowered scarf tied around the crown helped. Now I looked like a liberal who ties scarves
     to hats. It would have to do.

6
A Green Paper
    I had a few hours before meeting BB, so after I drove over the mountains and down into San Diego I went by Kate Van Der Elst’s
     campaign headquarters to check in. Pieter Van Der Elst was overseeing four volunteers preparing a mailer as Kate talked on
     a phone at the back of the room. I noticed that Pieter had moved a Formica-topped desk near the door of the storefront so
     that anyone entering would immediately be seen by whoever was sitting there. At the moment, he was. And he seemed nervous.
    “Just a small security precaution,” he said, gesturing to the desk with both hands. “I’ve been in contact with Detective Rathbone
     and I know about the letter threatening Grossinger and Ross. He’s told me that you and Dr. Bouchie are working on some kind
     of profile for the police. Blue,” he asked, lowering his