Die, Mother Goose, Die

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When Misty rammed the ice pick in his head, she felt alive, free, and wonderful. And the best part was she had six more to do. With a sigh, her mind went to an earlier time as she squatted in the corner and sucked her thumb. Childlike tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged her Raggedy Ann doll and recited a Mother Goose nursery rhyme. Mary, Mary, quite contrary. How. . . . . . Police Sergeant Jack Delaney and the Doom squad were stumped. The murders had no common link. He knew if they could find the motive, they would solve the case. The problem was the motive was created fifty years ago.