Free Ikon by Graham Masterton Page A

Don’t you agree? And, personally, I think there are three possible answers to that. One, her killers may have wanted to remove all traces of some unusual and incriminating head-wound. Perhaps she was killed with something incredibly specialized, like a glazier’s hammer, or a carpet-fitter’s tool - which is possible, but not particularly likely. Second, they may have taken it for kicks.’
    ‘You mean they wanted to play soccer with it?’
    This time, Berridge was genuinely startled. But he managed to say, in words that fell out like a shower of loose teeth, They may have taken it for some kind of ritual, that’s what I mean. Sexual, or magical. Those sort of kicks.’
    ‘And the third possibility?’
    ‘The third possibility is that they may have taken her head as proof to some third party that they’d actually killed her.’
    ‘In other words, our poor Air Force widow was killed by contract? Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia, that kind of stuff?’
    That’s the inference, yes.’ Chief Ruse slowly scratched the capacious seat of his pants. ‘Well, now,he said, ‘those are all possibilities. But they still don’t get us any nearer to finding out who killed her, and why.’
    ‘On the contrary, chief, argued Berridge. The first thing we should do is run a computer make on any violent crimes which have involved blows to the head with the usual weapons. Then run a second make on any sex or black magic cults which hold the human head or skull to be particularly significant. And finally a make on any contract killings in which the head or other parts of the body were taken as proof of death.’
    There was a chime at the front door. Berridge said, ‘I’ll get it. It’s probably the food I ordered.’
    ‘You ordered food?’
    Berridge looked surprised. ‘I shall probably be working on this thing for the rest of the night. Besides, it’s only a diet burger.’
    ‘God help us,breathed Chief Ruse, hitching up his pants. ‘A diet burger.’
    There was talking by the front door. After a while, Chief Ruse went out into the corridor, and said, ‘Berridge? What’s going on?’
    ‘Ah, chief, there you are, said a girl’s voice. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. They told me you went downtown with the coroner.’
    I never ride with stiffs, said Chief Ruse. ‘Now get your tail out of here, Miss Forbes. This is a police prohibited area.’
    The officer at the door said, ‘I’m sorry, chief, she just pushed past me.’
    Berridge said, ‘It’s okay, chief. We can let in the star reporter from The Arizona Flag, can’t we? Maybe she can give us some assistance.’
    ‘Another damned Californian, grumbled Chief Ruse.
    T’m not, as a matter of accuracy, said Kathy, unbuckling her black shoulder-bag so that she could check her tape-recorder. She gave Chief Ruse a wide, toothy grin. T was born in Tucson, near Randolph Park. I was raised
    in Phoenix, and I only went to Los Angeles when I was fourteen years old.’
    ‘Thanks for the c.v., said Chief Ruse. ‘Now, what can you possibly want to know that you haven’t already been told? The body’s gone, the photographers have gone, the forensic team have made their initial studies and they’re going to be back tomorrow to do a little more. Everything’s running routinely.’
    ‘Do you have any theories?’ asked Kathy.
    ‘Yes,said Chief Ruse flatly, ‘I suspect that Mrs Schneider was murdered.’
    Kathy didn’t blink. ‘How about you, lieutenant? Any ideas?’
    ‘Don’t ask him, Chief Ruse interrupted. ‘According to him, Mrs Schneider was decapitated either by someone who didn’t want us to know that they’d hit her over the head with some kind of weird object, like a piano; or some kind of sex-magic lunatics who get off on severed heads; or a hit-man who needed a souvenir to prove that he’d done what he was paid for.’
    Is that right?’ Kathy asked Lieutenant Berridge.
    Berridge drummed his fingers in a complicated tempo on the door-frame.