Chapter Six #2
And stopped when she heard the click of Mira’s no doubt fashionable shoes.
These, the color of ripe plums, matched the sheath under a cream-colored jacket. Mira’s mink-colored hair waved back to show off the purple stones at her ears. Those stones glinted in a triple chain around her neck.
“I thought you might contact me,” she began. “I had time to read your report this morning. The brutality? Extraordinary.”
“And I think purposeful. Do you want tea?”
“I would love some.” Standing on those skinny heels, Mira studied the board with her calm blue eyes. “The victim’s family. But not suspects?”
“You never cross anyone off completely, not this early, but no, I don’t see it. The younger son was just here. He’s wrecked, but he may have inadvertently given more weight to something we’re looking at.”
“Oh?”
“Take the desk chair.”
“Gratefully.” Sitting, Mira crossed her excellent legs, took the tea Eve offered.
“He talked about how growing up, his father was often absent. Buried-in-the-work kind of thing. And roughly thirteen years ago, the son got in trouble—drinking, graffiti in the school he broke into. From all accounts, Chu was a negotiator, and he negotiated the kid out of juvie, out of expulsion. And made himself, from that point, available. Shifting priorities to family.”
“You point out in the report the family photo, facedown, undamaged.”
“Family keeps circling through. How the company’s like family. And you know, they’re not. Very structured, very tightly run, and very secretive. Sensitive, confidential projects, sure, sure, but it felt like more. It felt like what happens here stays here.
“The vic didn’t talk about his work with his family. Or only in broad generalities. I feel like if I’m working on something to, like, end hunger or extend life another couple decades, I’m going to talk about it some with my spouse, or my doctor son.”
“It sounds as though, and it wouldn’t be unusual, that in order to work there they have to sign nondisclosures.”
“Yeah, like those work in the privacy of your own home.”
“Your point,” Mira agreed. “You think his murder, and the method of it, have some connection to his work.”
“About thirteen years ago, he opened an account, under his mother’s maiden, in the Caymans with two and a half million.
Another half million, listed as a bonus, went into his regular account.
And allowed him to purchase the family home.
He gets an annual quarter million, bonus on the books, and what looks like another hundred K—twice a year—goes straight into the Caymans. Exactly that, no deviation.”
“If blackmail, it would be surprising the payee didn’t deal with him before this.”
“Hush money’s different from blackmail, and right now that’s how I see it. He was a man who didn’t want trouble, who, by all accounts, avoided conflict and negotiated compromise.”
“All right.” Mira sipped tea, recrossed her legs with her eyes on Eve’s board.
“Thirteen years ago, he realizes his son is heading down a dangerous path, and he himself needs to be more present. And at approximately the same time, he’s given a large, on-the-books bonus, and a separate, off-the-books windfall. ”
“That’s right. Banner-Wyst has been involved in some shaky ethical issues. They’ve done good work, but they sure don’t do it for humanity, as I read it, so much as for profit and influence. Add profit to influence, you have power.”
Eve drank some of the coffee she’d programmed and studied the board.
“Their headquarters, their labs—and not just in New York—generate pretty regular protests as well as kudos. Their policy for building company towns by absorbing or displacing the people on that land draws a lot of questions and criticism.”
“Yes, I’m aware. As a doctor, I have mixed feelings.
Over the years, they have researched and developed much to improve the quality of life, to increase farmable land, to protect the environment.
But they’ve acquired a great deal of that land, and though they follow the rules of the road, wherever that is, they essentially self-govern. Yes, ethically shaky.”
Mira sat back. “So your theory? Chu learned something thirteen years ago that would have damaged the company’s reputation, perhaps worse. And was paid to keep quiet about it, to continue his work.”
“Maybe on a project that, if discovered, would hurt their bottom line.”
“Yes. Your considerable task will be to find what they’ve paid him for.”
“Considerable, seeing he’s dead. But he worked with others. He worked with others thirteen years ago. I’m going to dig that up, see if I can find someone who’d like to talk about it.”
“Meanwhile, yes, this killing was personal. Obviously the killer is very strong. Rage adds to that, but I would say extremely strong. And very likely taking a substance that feeds that strength and the rage.
“To have used his hands exclusively when a weapon would be quicker, easier, says he needed that rush and satisfaction. Breaking Chu’s hands. A scientist works with his mind, with data, with facts and hypotheses, but also with his hands.”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. Break the hands that do the work.”
“Correct. The focus on facial beating to beyond disfigurement. Very personal. I believe they were friends, or friendly, at one time. This is someone who very likely knew Chu’s family.
So he turned their faces away from the violence.
Destroy the computer, it’s again part of the work.
But destroy or damage personal items, because it’s personal. ”
“Chu betrayed him, or cost him something vital. Maybe betrayed his sense of what the work should be, but way more than that. I keep coming back on this one to: ‘You destroyed my life, now I’m taking yours.’ ”
“And doing so in his home,” Mira added. “Your killer is almost certainly male, extremely strong, very likely on a chemical enhancement. He respects family, he separates them from the blame he casts on his victim. He may have a family to protect, or a family he’s lost. Either could play into this level of fury.
He’s smart, organized, and focused. Until the fury takes over. ”
“I’m not sure he loses focus. I think the fury’s part of his focus. He could probably kill without the rage, but not in the way he wants and needs to kill.”
Mira angled her head, lifted her eyebrows. “That’s an interesting take.”
“Ever been in a serious fight? Physical hand-to-hand?”
“No, fortunately.”
“Take my word, to pound someone, another human, to this extent, to inflict this kind of damage, and keep inflicting it after death is achieved? It takes some fucking focus, and you have to be either driven by terror or rage to have it.”
“I’ll take your word.”
“Will he do it again?”
“If Chu was his target, as it seems, unlikely. But if he considers more than Chu involved in whatever drives him to this? That’s open. If he is on a substance, that may also drive him, the need to release the rage.”
That echoed Eve’s thoughts. “I’m leaning toward the second and third.”
Even as she spoke, her communicator signaled.
“Sorry,” she said to Mira, and answered, “Dallas.”
Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, see the officers at 562 Riverside Drive. Possible homicide, possible connection to current investigation.
“On my way with Detective Peabody, requesting EDD assistance, will contact Captain Feeney.”
Acknowledged.
“Well, shit, hold a second,” she asked Mira, and tagged Feeney.
His basset hound face topped by his electric-charged ginger hair came on-screen. “Yo.”
“I caught another, possible connection to the one I caught yesterday. Can you spare McNab?”
“He’s buried, but I can spring you Callendar.”
“Have her meet us in the garage, my level. Thanks.”
“No problem. I’d take it myself, but I’m buried with McNab. Good hunting.”
Eve pocketed the communicator, turned to Mira. “Depending on what we find, I may want to talk to you again.”
“I’ll make myself available.”
“I gotta go.” She strode out to the bullpen. “Peabody, with me, we’ve got another DB.”
“Hell.” Peabody stood, then scrambled to catch up, as Eve was already halfway to the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“Riverside Drive. Officers on scene. Callendar’s meeting us in the garage for EDD assist.”
“Yeah, McNab and Feeney are closing in on a hot one. Looks like we are, too.”
“Mira says male, smart, strong, organized, focused. Likely on a substance, and that both helps fuel the rage, and it adds enough so he can kill the way he wants to kill.”
“Without a weapon, personal, even intimate contact, and a hell of a lot of it.”
Since the elevator was only half full, Eve risked it.
“Could be Zeus or another kind of steroid mix. But even if it’s ’roid rage, he—in my opinion—stays focused on the task at hand. Kill, destroy, eradicate.”
“If this one’s his, too?”
“Then he’s got a list, and a plan, and maybe a pecking order.”
Eve tolerated the stops and starts because she wanted to think.
“If this victim has a connection to Banner-Wyst, we can be damn sure that’s the center of it. If it goes back thirteen years, there’s a reason he’s waited this long, or something in the now set him off.”
When they finally reached the garage, she headed straight to the car.
“You brief Callendar on the way. We’re looking for connections, patterns. How did the assailant get to the victim, how did he gain access? If there’s home or building security, was it bypassed, and if so, how?”
“I got it. Dallas, they wouldn’t bring us in on this unless the victim was beat to crap and back again. Baxter and Trueheart were up, and clear.”
“Agreed. But we go in without preconceived.”
She wanted to pace, wanted to get going, and glanced toward the elevator a few times.
Then it opened and Callendar emerged, bold and bright in baggies of screaming red, a shirt that looked like one of those weird paintings kids did with their fingers, and a hip-length jacket striped with red and brilliant blue.