CHAPTER FOUR
Kate crossed her arms and read the cipher again. Or rather one of the ciphers. The killer had used four different codes that she could identify, and those codes were scattered randomly throughout the message, preventing her from decoding any one part of it.
She’d figured out one of the ciphers so far, using the seventh commandment as a reference. That cipher was a simple substitution cipher where each letter of the Aramaic alphabet was replaced with its opposite: one was replaced with twenty-two, two with twenty-one, and so on.
The cipher she’d decoded confirmed that the killer was punishing people for violating the seventh commandment, but it hinted that the Carltons were killed not just for their own sexual deviance but for leading others to sexual deviancy.
The door to the hotel room flew open, and Kate stiffened, then huffed irritably as Marcus stormed inside. “God, Marcus! Could you not do that?”
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “I’m just frustrated.”
“At what? We just got here. Did you think we were going to solve this in a couple of hours?”
Instead of answering, Marcus walked to the balcony window of the high-rise and threw it open. “Hot in here,” he mumbled.
It was also hot out there. Miami was famous for its warm summers, and at five in the afternoon, there were several more hours of sunshine left. Kate left it alone, though. “Marcus, talk to me. What happened?”
“Lawyer’s giving me shit,” he explained. “Says the guest records are proprietary information, and he’s not required to provide them to me.”
Marcus was working on the hypothesis that the killer attended last night's sex party as a guest and either remained on the property after the party or returned later after everyone left.
He tried to find the guest records on the Carltons' bedroom computer, but the device and the files were password-protected, and Rivera balked when Marcus suggested he deliver it to the Miami Field Office's cybercrimes unit.
Now, apparently, the Carltons' estate lawyer was stepping in.
“We need to subpoena the records,” Marcus said. “I guarantee the information we need is there.”
He was pacing the room, scowling like an angry bear. He looked adorable but now was probably the wrong time to tell him that.
“We can do that,” Kate said, “but I’m not convinced that the killer is a member of our guest list.”
“Why?”
She turned to her notes, which covered the entire surface of the hotel room’s table.
The notes were laid out in imitation of the code as it appeared on the headboard of the Carltons’ bed with photos of the cipher placed where Kate hadn’t decoded them yet and written translations taped down where she had.
Marcus approached and scowled down at the cipher. Seeing what she’d translated so far didn’t improve his mood. He really had hoped this wouldn’t end up being related to Cox.
“The cipher uses multiple codes,” Kate explained. “Four, I believe. I’ve only decoded one of them, and it appears to have been used mostly for Bible verses. The top one here is the obvious one: ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery.’”
“And the rest follow the same theme,” Marcus said. “So do we think this is a legit commandment killing?”
“It’s too early to tell,” Kate replied, “but I think it is. Look at these verses, though. I don’t think the killer’s just punishing people for being freaky.”
She pointed at one of the ciphers and the translation next to it.
“This is an excerpt from Proverbs 9. ‘She sits in her doorway on the heights overlooking the city. She calls out to people minding their own business. “Come in with me!” she urges the simple. To those who lack good judgment, she says, “Stolen water is refreshing! Food eaten in secret tastes the best!” But little do they know that the dead are there. Her guests are in the depths of the grave.’”
She looked expectantly at Marcus, who returned her gaze for a moment, then said, “Okay, uncle. What should I be noticing here that I’m missing?”
“Well, it’s clearly a condemnation of the Carltons, but I don’t think it’s because of their own infidelity.”
He raised an eyebrow. “All right? Continue.”
“That part about calling to other people makes me think their real crime wasn’t sleeping with other people but hosting these parties. They were the foolish woman calling to others to join her in her folly.”
Marcus nodded, finally getting it. “Encouraging other people to fall.”
“Exactly. I don’t think the killer murdered them for being adulterers. I think he or she killed them for facilitating adultery.”
“Okay,” he said. “I can buy that. Kind of like the first commandment when Cox went after ministers who were leading people astray rather than the people led astray.”
“Yes.”
Marcus crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Why cut their genitals off, though? If their crime is leading others astray, then it’s not really their hoo-hahs that are the issue.”
She glanced at him. “Hoo-hahs?”
“Would you prefer I use the medical terms?”
"Genitals are fine," she replied drily.
He lifted his hands in an exaggerated apology. “Okay, fine, but my question still stands. Why such brutal torture? The killer did that before the Carltons died, remember.”
“Cox burned people alive, cut out their tongues, and nailed their hands to the desk. Extreme violence is definitely something he preaches.”
“Okay, fair enough. I still want that guest list, though. Maybe the killer’s not on the list, but I’ll bet anything they know someone on that list. For the record, I still think the killer was a guest. I’m just saying that even if they aren’t, I think we should pursue that angle.”
Kate frowned. He looked tense, almost jumpy. And he was coming pretty close to being defensive with her when she wasn’t saying anything that justified him being defensive. “Are you okay?” Then, because she knew he wasn’t, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just frustrated.”
“And again, we’ve been here for a few hours. Even on my most optimistic days, I’ve never expected to solve a case on the first day.”
“Yeah, I know, I just don’t like lawyers.”
“You’ve never liked lawyers. You still don’t get all grumpy and growly on the first afternoon of an investigation.”
He sighed. “Kate, drop it.”
A knife stabbed her chest. She pursed her lips and looked away.
That wasn’t good. Marcus was being an asshole, but in the past, that kind of behavior from her partner would have just been worth an eye roll, a snappy retort, and an encouragement to shape up so they could get the job done.
Since she and Marcus were more than partners, or trying to be more than partners, it stung Kate a lot more deeply than it normally would.
Was this going to be her new normal? Walking on eggshells around him because they were dating?
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Look, I… There’s a lot going on.”
Ah. “Cheryl?”
“Yeah. It’s no big deal. Just frustrating.”
That eased some of her concern. Marcus wasn’t with Cheryl anymore, but they were technically still married.
Knowing what she did about Cheryl, disentangling himself from that relationship was going to be a long, frustrating process.
“I understand,” she said. “Do you need to talk to her and let me run with things for a while?”
“No,” he said curtly. Then, softer. “No. No, I need to think about Cheryl later and the case now.” He took a deep breath, then smiled apologetically at her. “Sorry.”
Now she wasn’t upset anymore. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “No worries. Let’s talk to a judge and get that subpoena. Then we’ll take it to the Miami field office and start digging.”
“Right,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.” He nodded at the cipher. “You want to keep working on that while I handle the records?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve hit a dead end. I’m gonna give my mind a break and come back to it with fresh eyes later.”
“Fair enough. We’ll grab some dinner after we talk to a judge. All this relationship drama has me starving.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”
“Yeah. How’d I do?”
“Not well.”
“I figured. I’ll buy dinner as penance.”
***
Two hours later, they found themselves in the Miami Field Office munching on Cuban sandwiches (roast pork, ham, dill, and Swiss on toasted bread) and drinking Cuban coffee (coffee but with brown sugar instead of white sugar) and looking at a screen with records that put the FBI to shame.
The Miami Field Office continued the trend by putting the Portland Field Office firmly in its place.
No poor high-school faded red-brick here.
The Miami office was a six-story glass and steel structure with gleaming white tile floors and computers that actually looked new.
Their breakroom had a full kitchen, which was where Marcus had made the sandwiches and coffee after hearing from Rivera that the restaurant stop wasn’t necessary.
Perhaps most telling was the fact that a single call from Rivera to the Eleventh Judicial Circuit had netted them their subpoena with an hour, and the Carltons’ estate lawyer had meekly turned it over within another hour rather than filing an appeal and making the Bureau slog it out in morning court.
The FBI had power here. Miami was a hub for trafficking of all sorts: drugs, weapons, humans, you name it.
To address those systemic issues, federal agencies were afforded an almost unlimited leash.
That boded well for their case, but it still bothered Kate a little to notice the difference between the big-city office and her little podunk regional office.
“I don’t want to say the name,” Marcus said, “but this reminds me a little bit of another well-known collection of records facilitated by another well-known island-living billionaire.”
Right. Bigger things to worry about than her jealousy.
“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Rivera replied.
“It’s not a stretch to say that keeping detailed records of people’s indiscretions is a possible motive for murder,” Kate said.
Indiscretions was right. The Carltons didn’t just keep the minutes of their parties. Nor did they just throw swinger parties. The team of analysts studying the records had identified patterns that showed the Carltons were using their parties as a sort of elite matchmaking service.
The swinging thing was legitimate, and a lot of happy couples showed up just to have fun, but there were numerous notes about "connections," and several guests were noted as either "looking," "potentially looking," or "found connection on" followed by a date and the names of both parties.
Other records identified which people attended the swinging parties with people other than their known partners.
The Carltons, it appeared, had mapped out the extended love lives of most of Miami's upper class.
“It’s blackmail,” Marcus said. “It’s got to be.”
“It’s looking more likely,” Kate admitted.
“Rivera, start getting alibis from the guests marked as attending last night. Have your team look through records of each attendee and see if any of them show up on these ‘connections’ lists. Bonus points if they’re people who are married to other people and extra bonus points if they’re people who are no longer married to other people, and a big cherry on top if the dissolution of those marriages occurred sometime after they popped up on the Carltons’ connections list.”
“Keeping us busy tonight, huh?” Rivera said. “What are you guys gonna do?”
“I’m going to keep working on the cipher,” Kate replied.
“I’m going to stay here and help you,” Marcus said. He glanced at Kate. “If that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Kate said.
It was better if he kept busy. Anxious as he was, he would only get worse if left with nothing to occupy himself with.
“Well, we’ll get to it,” Rivera replied. “By the way, the coroner’s report came back. They confirmed that the Carltons were mutilated prior to their murders. They also confirmed that the Carltons were drugged.”
Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Barbiturates. Enough to make them mellow but not enough to put them out.”
Marcus’s lips thinned. “The killer wanted them awake to suffer but not resistant.”
Kate shared a grim look with her partner. “Good to know. Maybe put an asterisk that prioritizes people who are prescribed or otherwise have access to whatever medication was used to sedate them.”
“You got it,” Rivera agreed.
Kate processed this new information as she made her way downstairs. The killer had taken pains to ensure the Carltons suffered before they died. They weren’t correcting sinners. They were seeking satisfaction for their own suffering.
This wasn’t just punishment. This was retribution.