Page 35 of The Accomplice
This was going to be a tough week. They took Bloch’s Jeep into Tribeca. Lake had suggested they start there.
‘What’s in Tribeca ?’ asked Bloch.
‘Lilian Parker’s apartment. I want to check it out.’
‘Why that victim ?’
‘The witnesses who are set to testify against Carrie Miller. Chester Morris is already dead. That leaves Teresa Vasquez who saw a man and a woman hanging around outside the building the night Lilian Parker was killed. Then there’s the witness in the Nielsen case, but I’m not ready to go there yet. The Sandman will be targeting those witnesses, so he might be in the area. That’s reason number one. Reason number two, I need to get a first-hand look at the scene – get a better sense of who this guy is.’
‘You’re writing a profile ?’ said Bloch as she pulled into traffic. ‘I thought you said the FBI’s methods for catching serial killers was all wrong.’
He smiled at her from the passenger seat, or at least pulled his lips into something resembling a smile.
‘There are multiple schools of thought on psychological profiling and repeat offender behavior. I have my own way.’
‘And what is that ?’
‘You ever heard of George Metesky, the Mad Bomber ?’
Bloch nodded, made a left turn. The entire field of criminal profiling and its public fascination was spawned by one man in a double-breasted suit. This was the first case of modern offender profiling. It has been the example set for the discipline for more than sixty years, and the circumstances of the case remain fascinating for those studying patterns of violent repeat offending.
‘You know the tale they spin in training. The real story is more interesting. In November 1940, a bomb was found on the windowsill of the Consolidated Edison utility company with a note wrapped around it calling Con Edison crooks. It was initialed F.P. Another bomb was found close to the plant in September 1941. In December of that year the police got a letter from F.P. saying he wouldn’t plant any more bombs for the duration of the war as he was a patriot, but after that he would make Con Edison pay for what he called theirdastardly deeds.
‘He made good on his promise, and from 1951 to 1956 he planted more than thirty bombs, some at Con Edison and the rest at New York landmarks like Radio City Music Hall, Grand Central Terminal, the Paramount Theatre at Times Square, and more. He injured around twenty people, but never killed anyone. The NYPD thought it was just a matter of time before that happened so Captain John Cronin brought in a criminologist and psychiatrist named James A. Brussel—’
‘Who wrote the first offender profile,’ said Bloch. ‘It was pretty accurate.’
‘It was wrong in some places and general enough to be accurate in others, but it was the description of the Mad Bomber that caught the media’s attention. Brussel made two predictions. He said that when they caught the man, he would be wearing a double-breasted suitandthe bomber would wear the jacket buttoned up.’
Bloch smiled at the memory. She had been seated in a class with other officers while an FBI instructor had told this same story at the beginning of an afternoon course on how the Bureau uses profilers to catch serial offenders.
‘He was right though. When they caught George Metesky he was wearing that suit, and it was buttoned up,’ said Bloch.
‘That’s some real Sherlock Holmes shit, right there. And the newspapers loved it. Serial killer profilers wear that story like a badge of honor. But here’s the thing – the profile didn’t help the cops catch Metesky. Not one bit. They guessed correctly it was an ex-employee with a grudge. Metesky got his lungs scorched in a furnace, so he had a grudge alright, but Con Edison hid their old worker compensation files from the cops. A company clerk named Alice Kelly found Metesky’s file and saw he had used the same phrases in his complaint letters to the company as he had in his correspondence with the cops. But Brussel, he thought Metesky was a meticulous individual given his dedication to bringing down Con Edison. Plus, he thought his handwriting made him a pristine man in appearance and comportment. That’s why he thought Metesky would be wearing that suit. It was a lucky guess based on a bogus theory about handwriting, but it shouldn’t have been. There was enough information there to tell anyone without a degree in psychiatry that Metesky would be wearing that suit, and that he always buttoned it up.’
‘I don’t see how.’
‘Think about it.’
Bloch pulled up at a set of traffic lights, engaged the handbrake and took her hands from the wheel for a moment and let them lay on her lap.
Sixty seconds passed, and the light turned green. She said, ‘I don’t get it. Tell me.’
‘First bomb was in 1940,’ said Lake. ‘The target – Consolidated Edison. The Mad Bomber had a grudge against the company. He’d lost his job because he got hurt and couldn’t work. He waited ten years or more, to 1951, to start another bombing campaign, which meant he was still sore at the company, and he was still too sick to find another job. If he had been able to move on and find new employment, he wouldn’t have been leaving bombs around the city and crying out for justice against Con Edison. In the 1950s fashion changed. Most men wore suits, and the new cut was narrow lapels, short slim-fitting jackets and skinny ties. In the thirties and forties men wore double-breasted suits. Metesky was wearing a double-breasted suit because it was the last suit he’d bought while he was still working. He couldn’t afford the new style.’
‘Okay, so how did Brussel know he’d wear that suit buttoned up ?’
‘That’s easy, you ever wore a double-breasted suit ?’ asked Lake.
Bloch shook her head.
‘There’s like another foot of fabric over the stomach. The jacket folds over itself before you can button it once on the inside, and then two buttons on the outside. It’s designed to be worn buttoned at all times. If you don’t button up it feels like there’s a parachute hanging off your shoulders. The jacket just flips inside out. If you watch any movies set in the thirties or forties, everyone wearing a double-breasted suit has it buttoned up.’
‘What’s your point ?’ asked Bloch.
‘All of the evidence needed to catch Metesky was there already, staring straight at the investigators. They didn’t need a psychiatrist or criminologist. My point is you don’t need a profiler to tell you which way the wind blows, you just lick your finger and stick it in the air.’
The Jeep pulled up at the curb in a parking spot just in front of an alleyway on their right.
