“I’ve got another scenario for the murder. The killer wasn’t alone.”

“I like that,” Marge agreed.

“They ambushed her,” Decker continued. “One held her down while the other slashed.”

“Sounds as reasonable as a Goliath,” Hollander said. “Any candidates for the dynamic duo?”

“Stein and Mendelsohn,” Marge said. “Mike and I did some poking around at the yeshiva last night. Rabbi Schulman told me Stein was studying, but it turns out it wasn’t in a group. Seems the only one who could attest to Stein’s whereabouts was his friend Mendelsohn. They were studying together in a deserted classroom, and no one remembers seeing them. They could have slipped away without being noticed.”

“Mendelsohn have a record?” Hollander asked.

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Marge said. “All weirdos start out clean.”

“What would be the motive?” Hollander asked.

“Let me run this by you,” said Decker. “We know weirdos sometimes find each other and pool their pathology, right? Let’s suppose that both Stein and Mendelsohn are psychos. And they find each other at the yeshiva and become friends. They talk, and bizarre ideas pop into their heads-rape, murder.”

“Like Bianchi and Buono,” Hollander said.

“Exactly,” Decker said. “I’ll check them out. I’ll also poke around the yeshiva for anyone else who looks interesting. Mike, how about you picking up Cory Schmidt and friends? They’re also possibilities. He admitted vandalizing the yeshiva, so we know he’s been there before. Maybe he saw women coming out of the mikvah and came back one night to take advantage.”

“But we’re right back to where we started, Pete,” Marge said. “How could Cory have overtaken Florence?”

“Maybe he did the rape alone the first time and brought his friends back for a gang bang. What if he wasn’t alone the first time? Had his friends along keeping watch. When Rina called out, it scared them all away, and the others didn’t get their turn with Mrs. Adler.”

“But how would the boys know about the Marley woman?” Hollander asked. “She wasn’t there at the time of the Adler rape.”

“They might have come back another time and seen her patrolling,” Decker suggested. “Next time they came prepared. They got her out of the way and tried to break into the mikvah to get to what they were really after.”

“So they had to know that Rina was there,” Marge said.

Decker tensed. “Or at least know someone was in there. Maybe not Rina.”

“Or maybe they came back to seek revenge on Rina specifically, for the rousting we gave them last week,” said Hollander. “Cory may have felt it was all her fault.”

“The possibilities are numerous,” Marge said. “It could be the linebacker psychopath, but personally I like the boys for the bad guys. First, there’s a bunch of them. They could really get a grip on the woman. Second, boys of their ilk tend to ingest a lot of illicit chemicals. The murder smacks of drug-frenzied adolescence. The dismembered arm and leg, the slit throat. Spaced-out teenage boys who love gore and have low impulse control.”

“Okay,” Hollander said. “I’ll look into Schmidt and his buddies.”

“Then that leaves me to check out the list of giants,” Marge said, then looked at Decker. “Someone should talk to Rina. Find out if she can tell us a little bit more about the break-in at the mikvah.”

Decker nodded.

“You know, Pete,” Marge continued, “if she’s the target, maybe she should split for a few days.”

“Exactly my thought.” Decker felt a rush of anxiety and changed the subject quickly. “What do you two make of Feldman’s clothes and shoe prints at the scene?”

“Maybe he’s the original wandering Jew and was hanging around the area before the whole thing took place,” Hollander said through a cloud of blue smoke.

“Let me run this by you,” Decker said. “Guy is roaming in the woods, sees something unusual, and goes over to investigate. He spots Florence lying there dead and mutilated. It freaks him out, but he’s too psychologically incapacitated to tell us about it. Or…”

“He could have witnessed something,” Marge said.

“Exactly,” Decker said. “How are we going to penetrate that warped mind?”

“See the rabbi,” Hollander said.

“I already have,” said Decker. “I laid out the same scene for him. The rabbi admits that Feldman was exceptionally incoherent last night and agrees it might be because he saw the murder take place. The old man knows a shrink who may be able to pull something out of him.”

“I hope he’s better than the last doctor of theirs that we used,” Marge said. “She really fucked up.”

“True,” Decker agreed. “But this guy-Dr. Marder-sounds very well qualified. I checked him out with Behavioral Sciences, and he’s considered an expert in hypnosis. Most important, he was Feldman’s original shrink, treated the guy when he first started to decompensate.”

“Wasn’t too successful,” Hollander said.

“No, but he does have a rapport with him.”

The door to the interview room opened, and Fordebrand popped his head inside.

“Phone call, Pete.”

“Thanks, Ed.” Decker stood up. “Anything else?”

“I’m fine,” Hollander said.

“Ditto,” answered Marge.

“Okay. Meeting adjourned.” Decker walked over to his desk and punched the flashing white button.

“Decker.”

A familiar background noise. Jesus, everything all at once. It was her. Keep her on the line. The longer the better.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi.”

He coughed.

“Excuse me, Miss.” He checked his watch, then let go with a series of hacking coughs. Don’t overdo it, he warned himself.

“Pardon my coughing. I’ve got this cold that just won’t quit. Tried everything, but…Anyway, what can I do for you, Miss?”

“I was wondering…That sounds like a nasty cough.”

Decker coughed again.

“It is. I’ve had the darn thing for a week. Can’t seem to shake it. Just when I think it’s abating-”

“Yeah, anyway, I was wondering about the Foothill rapist.”

“Well, I’m the man to talk to. Excuse me.” He coughed again, took a sip of water, and got back on the phone. “How can I help you?”

“That description of the man that the nurse gave the police. They showed it on TV, on the news. Do you have a copy of it?”

“The composite drawing?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a copy of it.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’d be glad to send it to you if you’ll just give me your name and address.”

Just a whir on the other end.

“Hello, Miss?”

The line disconnected.

Shit! But at least the tap was hooked up. Hopefully, he’d stalled her long enough. He dialed the police operator immediately. She told him that someone would get back to him right away. Five minutes later the phone rang.

“Decker.”

“It’s Arnie, Pete. Got some specific boundaries for you.”

“Shoot.”

“The call is in the Sylmar vicinity, north of Glenoaks, south of San Fernando Road, eastern border is Astonia, western is Roxford, inclusive.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“A little more time and I could have gotten even more specific.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Decker said. “Pay phone?”

“Naturally. Hope this helps, Pete.”

“It should. Thanks.”

“Bye.”

Decker got up and went over to the squad room’s receptionist. Shirley was an overweight, big-busted brunette in her early forties. Her best feature was an infectious smile.

“Hello, Shirley.”

“What do you want, Decker?”

“The yellow pages for Sylmar.”

She opened up a drawer and handed him a canary-colored directory.

“If it’s the massage parlors you want, ask MacPherson.”

“I’ll look on my own. I don’t trust his taste.”

She winked and flashed him a grin that he had to return.

Decker took the phone book to his desk and looked up laundromats, laundries, and dry cleaners. An hour later he had narrowed the list down to two dry cleaners, two laundries, and three laundromats in the area. His watch told him it was half past ten. First he’d talk to Rina.