Eight hours later in the squad room Leland, Curran, Schoenstein, Tanner, Maule, Quillan, and Captain Richardson reviewed what they had. There were reporters downstairs, and the morning three-stars had spread the case across their front pages with banners and photographs of the death scene. On the windowsill the radio was playing; since seven o’clock the half-hour newscasts had given the killing the lead spot, abbreviating and reworking the material carried by the papers. The announcers were still talking of the secret roommate, the dragnet, the mysterious mutilations, the equally mysterious and somehow spectacular appearance of Herbert Davis, who was still not available for comment, and finally that Joseph Leland, the World War Two fighter ace, was leading the investigation for the Police Department. On page 3 of the Port Smith Press was an old Eighth Air Force photograph of Leland in the cockpit of his Thunderbolt, grinning and giving the “thumbs-up” sign that all was well.

Leland conducted the discussion and Schoenstein had pencil and paper in his lap. The desk tops were littered with coffee containers. The tank was empty; the exhibitionist arrested the night before in Lewis Park had identified himself. His sister had been called and he had been taken to headquarters to be held over until Monday morning.

Leikman had been killed between eleven and eleven-thirty the previous night by person or persons unknown, who had crushed Leikman’s skull with more than twenty blows with the piece of china found in the living room. The piece of china had been identified, or classified, as a free-form piece of bric-a-brac or bookend. The assumption was that Leikman had not been hit from behind. His left cheekbone bore a bruise and the inside of his lower lip was cut. Leikman had been nude at the start of the fight: his clothes had been found clean. The condition of his body showed that he had had homosexual connection immediately prior to the fight that had led to his death. For purposes of identification, the semen stains on both beds were useless; the protein compounds broke down and, in a sense, died, soon after contact with the air. Another fact the detectives could bear in mind was that no woman was involved. The bed bore none of the usual evidence of a woman—powder, long hair, and so forth.

Richardson wanted to know why women were being mentioned at all.

“Leikman had it both ways,” Leland said. “We interviewed his girl friends late last night.”

“Go ahead,” Richardson said disgustedly. He was a big man, fifty-five years old, and so long a leader that he could say a thing without thinking about it and make his men feel what he wanted.