Doubts were understandable. The homicides in Ireland were more than ten years old, and as was true in the Virginia cases, there was so little to go on. We did not have fingerprints, dentition, sinus configurations or witnesses for identification. We did not have biological samples from people missing to compare to the victims' DNA. We did not know the means of death. Therefore, it was very difficult to say much about the killer, except that I believed he was experienced with a meat saw and quite possibly used one in his profession, or had at one time.

'The last case in Ireland, that we know of, was a decade ago,' I was saying to Marino over the line. 'In the past two years we've had four in Virginia.'

'So you're thinking he stopped for eight years?' he said. 'Why? He was in prison, maybe, for some other crime?'

'I don't know. He may have been killing somewhere else and the cases haven't been connected,' I replied as wind made unearthly sounds.

'There's those serial cases in South Africa,' he thickly thought out loud. 'In Florence, Germany, Russia, Australia. Shit, now that you think of it, they're friggin' everywhere. Hey!' He put his hand over the phone. 'Smoke your own damn cigarettes! What do

you think this is? Friggin' welfare!'

Male voices were rowdy in the background, and someone had put on Randy Travis.

'Sounds like you're having fun,' I dryly said. 'Please don't invite me next year, either.'

'Bunch of animals,' he mumbled. 'Don't ask me why I do this. Every time they drink me outa house, home. Cheat at cards.'

'The M.O. in these cases is very distinctive.' My tone was meant to sober.

'Okay,' he said. 'So if this guy started in Dublin, maybe we're looking for someone Irish. I think you should hurry back home.' He belched. 'Sounds like we need to go to Quantico and get on this. You told Benton yet?'