Indulgence In Death Part 24

"You playing a game on the comp is big news, but I 'd say your brainstorm on this is bigger. You're speculating that Dudley and Moriarity, if indeed they're in this homicidal partnership, are in fact playing a game."

"The elements are all screwy-the methods. The weapon, the vic, the kill site. They come off as random kills, connected by the type of each element, which still strikes me as random. So what if it is, what if it is f.u.c.king random because they're elements of a contest, a game, a compet.i.tion? Or, if not that sick, some sort of deeply disturbed agreement?"

"I f so, the question would be why."

"Why does anyone play a game, enter a contest, compete? To win."

"Darling, while that viewpoint is one of the reasons you're not much of a player, many play because they simply enjoy the game or theexperience."

She stabbed another bite of steak. "Losing sucks."

"I tend to agree, but nonetheless. Your hypothesis is: two respected and high-powered businessmen, with no previous criminal record or reputation for violence have partnered up, not merely to kill, but to kill for ... sport?"

"Sport." She jabbed a finger at him. "Exactly. Look at the vics. Jamal Houston. Neither of the men or their companies used his transpo service.

Nothing we've uncovered shows any previous connection to him. Peabody's looking into the remote possibility one of them did use him on the QT -which isn't probable or logical-and he saw or overheard something, then one or both of them decided to eliminate him. But just look at that convoluted mess. First, one or both had to use a service they didn't routinely use, which limits their security. Then one or both have to do or say something incriminating, illegal, immoral, whatever, in front of a driver they don't routinely use."

She scooped up some of the baked potato she'd already drowned in b.u.t.ter, sampled, then kept talking while she-to Roarke's mind-buried it in salt.

"Then one or both have to decide to kill him, and chose a method that highlights the crime when, s.h.i.t, they could've hired the hit."

"Why don't you just salt the b.u.t.ter and eat it with a spoon?"

"What?"

"Never mind. All right, I agree that scenario doesn't make sense. I t's too complicated and illogical."

"That doesn't even get to Crampton. Neither of them are in her book. Now, maybe one or both of them used her services with another ID, but it's hard for me to swallow she wouldn't have made one or both in her vetting process. And if they were using fake ID and getting away with it, why kill her? I 've got no evidence of blackmail, as in she learned who the client was and tried to shake him down. Which would be stupid and risk her very valuable rep for money when she was already flush, and risk her license when she didn't have a single blemish on it. Add the method and location, and it's too showy."

"Can't argue. Eat your vegetables."

She rolled her eyes but ate some asparagus. "There. So, simplify it, break it down to its elements."

"And you have a game of Clue."

She circled a finger in the air as she chewed more steak. "Or their version of that sort of thing. Maybe their version of some urban hunt for really big game."

"Which winds back to why. I t's murder, Eve, and by your supposition the murder of innocent and personally unknown people."

"People important in their field. People in business or services for the upper rung of the social and financial ladder. I think that's an element.

Maybe that's part of the why. I don't know yet."

"Because anything less isn't worthy."

Eve paused with a liberally salted forkful of potato halfway to her mouth. "Worthy."

"Just trying to follow the trail you're breaking. You've described them both as arrogant, smug, wealthy, privileged, and from my limited knowledge of them I don't disagree."

He poured more water in her gla.s.s as he expected she'd need to drink like the dying with that much salt in her system.

"They've been steeped in that privilege all their lives," he continued, "and have known only the best, have been able to select the best in every area. That can be a heady experience when you come from nothing. Conversely, it could be a matter of considering what you deserve is only the best, and less isn't to be tolerated."

He lifted his wine, gestured before he drank. "Why murder a sidewalk sleeper, for instance? Where's the shine in that, where's the prestige? And you've no truck with that sort in any case. They're too far beneath you."

"But a tony chauffeur service, or the best LC in the city, while beneath you, are still people you would or could utilize."

"I t's logical."

"I t d.a.m.n well is," she agreed. "An unusual weapon, or unique weapon, it adds to the shine."

"And perhaps the challenge."

"So does the location. Makes it challenging, and worthy."

"They've each completed their round, if that's what this is," Roarke pointed out. "Or bagged their trophy. Maybe that's the end of it."

"No. I t's a tie, isn't it? A tie doesn't cut it, not in games, in compet.i.tion, in sports. Ties suck for everybody. There has to be a winner. They have to go to the next round."

He turned it over in his mind. "They know you're looking at them, checking alibis, doing background checks. That would add to the flavor, the buzz of it all, if that's what this is about."

"They were ready for me." She nodded to herself as she looked back at both interviews. "See that's what struck me when I talked to each of them.

They were ready with their performance, their script, their play. I t was like another kind of round, wasn't it? A level. Okay, we each qualified in that round, now it's Beat the Cop time for bonus points. They had to factor that in when they used employee IDs. They had to want that element, too."

"A bigger bonus that it was you, with your reputation."

"Add my connection to you. A little more-what's it-panache."

"As you're talking me into it, consider the timing. We're just back from holiday. I t's very easy to verify we'd both be back to work. And if any research had been done, a good bet that your name would come up on a fresh homicide when you're just back. I 'd say they wanted, hoped, and did their best to ensure it would be you. Only the best."

"He brought up the book. Dudley," Eve remembered. "Nadine's book, the Icove case. A lot of shimmer on that right now. d.a.m.n it, maybe I should tell Nadine to watch her back. She's riding a big, shiny bestseller. And the b.a.s.t.a.r.d made a point of mentioning it."

"I can't see her as a target, but you'd feel better if you contacted her."

"Why not a target?"

"Both victims have been service providers. Some would even consider them a kind of servant."

"Maybe, yeah, maybe, but I 'm going to tell her not to do anything stupid. Then, d.a.m.n it all over again, she's going to push me for a one-on-one on this, try to wheedle more out of me on the investigation."

"Friendship's complex and layered."

"I t's a pain in the a.s.s." But she pushed away from the table and walked to her desk to contact her friend.

She was pumped, Roarke thought as he lingered over his wine. Pumped and ready. I t was more than the sleep, the meal, though G.o.d knew she'd needed both. I t was the mission. She saw it now, and maybe that's what Sinead had meant by Eve's gift. She could see, and feel, both her victims and their killers.

He rose now, walked to her murder board.He could hear her arguing with Nadine over making an appearance on Now to discuss the case, over giving a straight interview for Channel 75, but he paid little attention.

That, too, was a kind of game, he supposed. They each played their parts, pushed their agendas, and respected each other's skill. A fine trick between two hardheaded, strong-willed women who believed absolutely in their duty to their profession.

When Eve broke transmission, muttered: "Coffee," he said, "I 'll have some as well."

He waited until she came out, handed him a cup. "They look through you."

"What?"

"People-some people-with this level of social and monetary privilege. Those who can have whatever they wish whenever they wish it, and have chosen not to care, or simply haven't the base in them to care about those who can't. They don't see you, the ones sweating out a day's pay to meet the rent, or those begging on a street corner with empty bellies. They don't see those who provide the services they use as they're no more than droids in the world of that tunnel-vision privilege. I 'll wager they don't know the names much less the situations of those who work for them outside their admins or PAs-and then only the names."

"You see, you know. And you could probably buy and sell both of them."

He shook his head. "I t's a different matter, not only in that base, but in the background. I 've been the one looked through. I t was one of the things I determined to change. And I 've killed. There's a weight in that for most of us. I can see, I think, how they might kill without that weight."

"Because the victims aren't people to them. They're like a chair or a pair of shoes, just something they buy. They pay for the kill, that keeps coming around for me. They bought them, then own them."

"And it's a new thrill, the killing."

He could, now that she'd opened the window to it, see them sitting in their fine homes over fine brandy, discussing that new thrill.

"I t's fresh and fascinating," he went on. "When you can have anything you like, there can be little that feels fresh and fascinating."

"Do you feel that way?"

"Not a bit." He smiled a little as he turned to her. "But in my way, it's the business itself, the angles, the strategies, the possibilities that are fresh and fascinating. And I have you. Who do they have? As you said, they keep nothing on display that connects them to family, to a loved one."

"I t's one of the things I 'm going to look at. Their exes, their family connections, the people they hang with. What do they do with their leisure time?"

"They don't play polo or squash, but I had it right on golf. You'd made me curious," he said when she frowned at him. "So I looked into it a bit. They both belong to the Oceanic Yacht Club, quite exclusive, as you'd expect, and have partic.i.p.ated or sponsored quite a number of races and events.

They both enjoy baccarat, high stakes. They each own majority shares in racehorses, which often compete."

"Compete," she repeated. "Another pattern."

"When not in New York tending to their companies' HQs-or in my opinion after a bit of digging, sitting in as the symbolic head-they tend to follow the seasons and trends. They sail, they ski, they gamble, attend parties and premieres."

"Together?"

"Often, but not always. They do have separate interests as well. Dudley enjoys tennis, playing and attending the important matches. Moriarity prefers chess."

"Nonteam sports."

"So it seems."

"They compete with each other in several areas. That's part of their dynamic. Separately they go for activities where you compete head to head rather than suit up with a team." She nodded. "I t's good data. Now I need to get more. Do you want in on that?"

"I have a little time I can squeeze in." He traced a fingertip along the dent in her chin. "For a price."

"Nothing's free."

"There's my motto. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"You could go back further. See if these two went to school together at any point, or have any relatives in common. Basically I 'd like to pin down when they met, how, that sort of thing."

"Easy enough."

"And keep it on the straight line."

"You do know how to spoil my fun. That may cost you double. You can start with the dishes," he said and strolled away.

She scowled, but she couldn't b.i.t.c.h since he'd put the meal together.

"I bet these guys don't expect their bed partners to dump stupid dishes in the machine," she called out.

"Darling, you're so much more to me than a bed partner."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, but gathered up the dishes, dumped them in the machine.

She sat, input all the information Roarke had given her, added various elements of her own into the file.

"Computer, run a probability on Dudley and Moriarity killing both victims while working as compet.i.tors and/or partners, considering these acts part of a game or sport."

Acknow ledged. Working ...

"Yeah, take your time. Chew it over. Computer, simultaneous tasking. Background check on former spouses and cohabs of Dudley and Moriarity.

Addition," she thought quickly. "Search and find any official announcements of engagements for either subject, run background check."

Secondary task acknow ledged. Working ...

"Computer relay the data on previous search regarding military service for ancestors of both subjects. Screen one display.

Acknow ledged. Data on screen one ...

She sat back, began to scan-and thanked G.o.d she'd limited the search to between 1945 and 1965, as there were dozens of names in each family.

She sipped coffee as she read, and found another pattern.

"Computer, separate commissioned officers, major and above, from current list. Display that data, screen two."

Acknow ledged. Working ... Primary task complete. Probability is fifty-four-point-tw o that subjects Dudley and Moriarity killed both victimsas compet.i.tors or partners as a game or sport.