This month, we’re back to some tidbits from the I Hunt Killers vault!
Originally, the Impressionist was called the Finger. Because, well, he was cutting off people’s fingers. But then my editor pointed out that a killer called the Finger might be unintentionally humorous because of, you know, the finger.
Around the same time she said this, I was already considering the artistic school of impressionism and the nature of copycat killers. It was a pretty seamless transition from the Finger to the Impressionist, and I like to think that I would have gotten there even without her gentle nudge, but who knows?
In any event, in the two bits below, “the Finger” refers to the serial killer later known as the Impressionist…
First up, Jazz talking to G. William…
“We think it’s the Finger.”
“Just because he took a trophy? There have been four Finger copycats—“
“And they all took their trophies post-mortem.”
“You mean…this guy took his while the victim was still alive?” “Yeah.”
Jazz couldn’t help it — he shivered for just a moment, hoping that G. William wouldn’t notice. Or that if he did, he would think the shiver came from revulsion or disgust, not from the sudden, magical moment of imagining the spurt — the absolute gush — of blood that would follow severing a finger from a still living, breathing human being. The pain would be…exquisite.
And then another moment in the conversation, as Jazz and G. William discuss the actual methodology…
“There’s a contusion on the back of the head. Like with the other victims.” “He knocks them out.”
“Yeah. Figure it’s easier to cut off the finger if the victim’s unconscious.”
Jazz shivered. No. “No,” he said. “That’s not what he does. He knocks them out for some other reason. Maybe to incapacitate them. But he cuts off the finger while they’re awake.”
“How do you figure?”
“That’s why he does it. It’s not just the gush of blood. It’s the look in their eyes. The expression on their faces. The terror. The screams. The anguish. There’s no other reason to do it, G. William. The blood’s not enough. Might as well do it post-mortem. It’s the look. It’s the fear.”
“You sure about this?” G. William’s eyes had narrowed and he was trying to hide his concern, but that was impossible to hide from Jazz.
Jazz pretended not to notice. “I’m sure. That’s what drives him.”
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