CHAPTER VI. The Professor
The professor was dressed in a silvery pale blue flowing, drapey three-piece pant outfit that concealed some of her more obvious figure flaws. She also smelled of some delicious perfume, which won her major points with Tony. Her hazel eyes were mild and gentle and her smile sweet, but Tony knew better than to judge her competence by her outward appearance. NCIS was known for hiring the best people in their fields.
"What are you a professor of?" he wanted to know.
"Psychology, mostly," she replied. "I did a lot of research when I was younger on sociopathology and the criminal mind and became an expert in forensic psychology at a time when the field was being developed. I did some consulting for NCIS during those years, so when I retired from academia, Director Morrow asked if I'd be willing to continue to be a forensic consultant from time to time." She smiled ruefully. "I never dreamed I'd wind up becoming a paid staff member."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Not at all. It's just that I expected to have more time to play the piano and read and work in my garden in my retirement. But I enjoy puzzles of all kinds, so this work keeps me useful and mentally active. Now why don't you tell me about your puzzle?"
DiNozzo laid out all the facts of the case, using the table he'd created for reference. He showed her the map with the crime locations marked on them. Looking at it, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
"Have you noticed anything about the sites in relation to each other?" she asked.
"Not really," he said. "What do you see?"
"It looks like the sites are equidistant from each other."
He drew a line on the map connecting each site and then measured it.
"Exactly two and a quarter miles apart."
"What's the angle between where line 1-2 and line 2-3 meet?"
He measured it. "165 degrees."
"All right," she suggested, "measure a 165 degree angle at the end of line 2-3 and extend it out exactly two and a quarter miles."
DiNozzo did so and let out a soft whistle of amazement.
"What is it?" the professor asked.
"The line ends right on a building that's used as a Navy warehouse of some sort." He turned to her. "At least, we think it's a warehouse. We've had occasion to question what it's being used for on a couple of other occasions, but nobody here seems to have a high enough security clearance to find out exactly what's going on there. The one thing we know for sure is that it is a Navy facility."
"It looks as though our murderer has been tracing out a path to it," Bennett mused. "It wouldn't surprise me if this warehouse wasn't a target for some other crime."
"What else do you see?" asked DiNozzo.
"Well, let's go back to the victims. We have an idea now that they may have been selected deliberately because of where they lived and not so much because of who they were. It's interesting, too, that each of them was alone at the time they were killed."
"Yeah, I kinda noticed that," DiNozzo interjected.
"The homeless man had a place where he spent most of his days, but he slept alone in an alley. The petty officer's roommate was visiting family in another state, and the third victim's family also was doing the same thing."
"Opportunity," murmured DiNozzo.
"Exactly. And another thing. Because of the Bible pages, it may be important that the victims' names seem to indicate possible ethnicity or religious background."
"Algawid. Possibly Middle Eastern and Muslim."
Professor Bennett continued. "Adamovsky. Central Europe and probably Catholic, or at the very least Christian. And Meissner. Jewish?"
DiNozzo picked up the thought. "The pages that were torn from the Bible tell the story of Abram, renamed Abraham by God."
"Believed by many theologians to be the father of the three major religions," the professor said, nodding her head at DiNozzo's quick perceptions.
DiNozzo looked at the professor. "The victims are connected, just not in any way we would've expected. I have my agents out interrogating the victims' co-workers and acquaintances, but I'll bet we don't find anything useful there. I will ask them to check on ethnic backgrounds and religious affiliations."
"Well, everything's useful in some way, but I dare say we've moved beyond the point where that information will tell us anything we haven't already figured out."
"Is there anything else you can help me with here?" DiNozzo asked with a smile.
"Not at the moment, but I'll be at your disposal for anything else that might come up," Professor Bennett assured him.
"Thanks. You really are good at this. You've helped me a lot," DiNozzo told her as she rose to leave. "I hope we can get together again."
"I've enjoyed meeting you, too," she answered with a sweet smile. She paused to look at him appraisingly. "Now I know why the young ladies around here are always talking about that hottie, Agent DiNozzo."
DiNozzo preened—just a little—and laughed out loud when she gave him a playful wink. If she were a little bit younger, he thought, he could show her "hot…." A very nice lady.
He stood deep in thought for a few minutes after the professor left the squad room. His reverie was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. It was McGee reporting that he and Officer David had interviewed people at Algawid's soup kitchen without discovering anything useful except that the dead man had had a hard life that had ended hard. They also asked for a one of the Bibles used there, but those were paper-bound and not therefore helpful to the case.
"Did anyone say anything about his religious background?" asked DiNozzo.
"Uh, well, yeah," McGee answered.
"Well, what, McGee?" He did a masterful imitation of Gibbs' bark.
"Uh, they said his father was a Muslim cleric who immigrated here from Palestine in the nineteen-thirties, but Homer himself wasn't a practicing Moslem, and he didn't talk about it much. Probably concerned about attracting unwelcome attention."
"Thank you," he said to McGee with exaggerated politeness. Then he went on. "It's almost noon. Why don't you and Ziva take a break for lunch, and then do the other interviews this afternoon? Be sure and ask about their ethnic backgrounds and religious beliefs."
McGee readily assented.
DiNozzo told him, "I'm going to be out of the office for lunch, but I'll have my cell if anything comes up."
Once he guided his car out of the NCIS parking compound, DiNozzo turned in the direction of that Naval warehouse. When he reached the area, he slowed as he drove past, stretching his neck in various directions as though he were looking for an address. He noted that the warehouse sat in what was a slightly decayed neighborhood of small, run-down houses and other buildings that appeared to house small businesses.
He also noticed a substantial number of parked cars along the streets around the warehouse, more than would normally be expected for the number of people who might be employed there and in the other commercial enterprises nearby. Something more than just storage was going on there.
Driving on slowly, at the corner of the next block past the warehouse, he saw a little commercial building that had a lighted sign in a dingy window: "BAR." There was no other identification. He grunted with satisfaction and then made his way back to the office, stopping at a fast food joint to pick up a hamburger, fries, and drink.
After finishing his meal, he worked at his desk, doing his best to correlate the many small bits of information that had accumulated in the case, including Professor Bennett's assessments, but without finding anything more that would advance him toward a solution. He decided he needed to know more about that warehouse, or whatever it was.
At one point, Dr. Mallard called him to report that Meissner had indeed died of suffocation due to strangulation.
"The killer did use a garrote," the M.E. stated. "I can't tell at this point what type of material it was, but I've sent several samples of the neck tissue to Abigail to see if she can tease out any fabric particles. It does appear that whatever was used the killer tied a knot in it to exert maximum pressure on the Adam's apple."
DiNozzo told the doctor not to worry too much about the material of the garrote, that it might not mean anything anyway, but thanked him for his work.
He decided to stretch his legs by walking down to Abby's lab, picking up another Caf-Pow! on the way.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, I was getting really dry, but I'm sorry, I don't have anything new for you right now." She took a long sip from the Caf-Pow! "Do you think this case is frustrating?"
"Yes, Abs," he said, "I do. Keep at it, though. If anybody can find anything, you can."
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you. You know I love Gibbs, but you—I adore you."
Amused, DiNozzo returned her kiss, just a little bit. "I adore you, too. Now get back to work."
She threw him a left-handed salute. "Getting back to work, oh mighty substitute Gibbs."
Chuckling, DiNozzo returned to his desk, dialing McGee's cell number as he went.
McGee and David were on their way to Ben Meissner's office, having just completed their interviews with the staff of the medical records department at Bethesda. Because McGee was driving (he wisely refused to let David drive), he handed the phone to the Mossad agent.
"Jane Adamovsky's been working there for the last year," David reported." She enlisted in the Navy when she graduated from high school. She was hoping to go to college on the G.I. bill to become a doctor, but she became fascinated by the record-keeping function of medicine. She's been taking some classes to become a records technician. She was well-liked by her colleagues and was getting good performance reports from her supervisor."
"Romantic involvements?" DiNozzo asked.
"Hmm, nothing major. I called her running partner, Jordan. She says Adamovsky dated quite a few guys, but never for very long. I've got a list of names to get in touch with."
"You may not have to," DiNozzo told her. "I'm feeling that her killer isn't anyone she knew before the murder. Same for Meissner, but go ahead and do the interviews at his office. You never know what's going to turn up. I'm going to be leaving the office around three. When you guys finish up, get back here and write up your reports. I'd like to have them on my desk first thing in the morning."
"That's sounds familiar," Ziva murmured before breaking the connection.
Once again, Detective John Delbart showed up in the squad room on the dot of 2:00 o'clock. He had brought with him the final report on the autopsy of Homer Algawid done by Metro PD's medical examiner. DiNozzo glanced at it, but there was nothing new or surprising in it. Death was virtually instantaneous by virtue of the severing of blood vessels, nerves, and the major airway.
DiNozzo shared with Delbart some of the information he had come up with from his conversation with Professor Bennett: that the geography of the murder sites might be more important than the victims themselves in determining the why of the crimes. However, he didn't make a point of the fact that the line connecting the murder sites seemed to target the Naval warehouse as a site of interest.
Adding to their mutual frustration with the case, Delbart had nothing else to report. They went down to the morgue together to deliver a copy of Algawid's autopsy report to Dr. Mallard and found themselves some time later listening to one of his interminable stories.
Delbart finally extricated them from Ducky's clutches by pleading he had to leave for a meeting at his shop at 3:30. After saying goodbye to the detective, DiNozzo went to his locker and pulled out a ratty sweatshirt he kept there for emergencies. He hadn't dressed up that day except for his jacket of fine Italian leather, which he didn't feel was appropriate to wear to a dive; otherwise, he was wearing khakis, a turtleneck, and somewhat scuffed loafers, mostly because the day had started out so chilly and drizzly.
it was just past 3:00 o'clock. Once outside, though, he discovered the drizzle had stopped and the sun was making a feeble effort to shine.
Author's Chapter Notes:
DiNozzo solves a myster the old-fashioned way.