The Mentor (10 page)

“So basically, we’ve got nothing,” Eric concluded.

Jane shrugged. “That’s what I’ve said.”

“There’s nothing left except to concentrate on motive and the deliberate scene the assassin took pains to create,” Eric said, then went back to looking at the photographs of the victims as the rest of the team talked with one another. At first he’d thought the motive might be linked with some sex crime from the past, but the second murder had muddied the water. Yet there was something here, some sort of scheme, something familiar . . . He just couldn’t quite make it out.

“Um,” came Miriam’s voice, rising up over the others and silencing them little by little. “The presumed rape victim from when Thompson was back in high school—well, she has a son, but he lives in Glasgow.”

“Is there any chance he was in London at the same time the crimes were committed?” This trail was lukewarm at best now, and he could already imagine her answer.

“For the first date he doesn’t really have a solid alibi. He says he was home alone, in Scotland, but on the second night he was on a plane, flying over the Atlantic toward New York. British Airways has confirmed he was on board. There’s no way he could have been in City at the time of the murder.”

“Okay, well it was worth running down just to be sure.” He took a deep breath. “Aside from the mask thing, dressing all in black, which I think the killer needed in order to hide his identity, I’m guessing we’re dealing with an assassin who has very precise motives. We need to figure out what those are.”

“Could it be a nut job who copycats other crimes? If that’s the case, we might be dealing with a serial killer.” This was the second time Miriam had suggested this, and once again there was a strange light in her eyes.

“Two homicides are not enough to start talking about serial killers,” protested Eric.

“It might be nice to keep him from committing a third,” Miriam added, not yet ready to let it go.

“If there is a third,” said Jane.

“I’m betting there will be.” Miriam seemed quite sure of herself, convinced of what she was saying. There was a challenging tone in her voice as she addressed the entire room.

“At this point we can’t rule anything out,” said Eric. He was working to calm down everyone in the room, since people were starting to get a little too worked up. “See if you can find some similarities with any other cases.”

“Good,” said Miriam.

“We have to consider two possibilities: either the victims’ identities are the keys to figuring out the motive, or the motive can only be identified in the killer’s modus operandi,” Jane said.

“What if both are important?” Adele’s voice rang out from the back of the room, making everyone turn around.

“What’s on your mind?” Eric said, not even trying to hide a smile.

“Vendetta!” said Adele, all but shouting the word. The colleagues closest to her started a little.

Eric said nothing for a moment, focusing on her. What was going through her mind?

“That might be the motive. Vendetta. These crimes are reconstructions, appropriate punishment for something the victims have done, not just the emulation of some psychopath.”

Every single person in the room was silent, hanging on her words.

“Let’s think about the murders separately for a moment and try to figure out what the assassin is trying to communicate. The pistol might simply be a symbol. We should examine unresolved cases and look for a murder where the victim was struck from behind, maybe with a knife or hand ax.” She turned her head and looked outside as if searching for inspiration. “Or a victim that was castrated or, if it’s a woman . . .” She lowered her head a bit. “Raped.” She accompanied that word with a nod. “And then”—here Adele drew one finger across her throat—“sliced open.”

Everyone in the room began talking among themselves, increasing the noise level a little.

“The same weapon,” said Adele, raising her voice to be heard above the hubbub. “This whole staging and the black costume all work to make us think that we’re dealing with the same assassin and therefore that the victims are somehow connected. But let’s just suppose for a moment that that’s not the case.” She stood up. Her look and the amused curve of her lips seemed to conceal some secret that only she was privy to. “Let’s imagine for a moment that two different people both killed their victims in a certain, specific manner in order to vindicate another crime. Two different people—but they know each other; they dress the same way and use the same weapon in order to make us believe that they’re one and the same.”

At this point it seemed like every single person in the room felt an irresistible urge to share his or her opinion, all at the same time.

“A picturesque theory,” said Eric, trying to bring the room back to order, “but interesting.” As often happened during those months, Pennington had managed to look at the case from a completely different point of view. She had an entirely creative approach to shuffling evidence around, which mirrored her behavior. She always sat separate from the others during these meetings, observing everything, absorbing data like a sponge before adding her two cents. Shaw expected her to chip in from one moment to the next, and when he heard her speak up, he was certain she would contribute some unusual and unexpected point of view.

“Or . . .” Adele’s face darkened, as if she’d been struck by a disturbing revelation. “If our victims really are connected to one another, then the assassin might just be a single person. But in that case . . .” She stared straight at Eric, as if to send him a private message, which he picked up on just a moment before she spoke. “The murders the killer is vindicating must have taken place together.”

CHAPTER 9

The key turned in the lock and the door opened.

“Eric?” said Miriam, putting one foot into the dark apartment. “You here?”

No response.

She went inside. A powerful gush of air blew past her, mussing up her hair. The door slammed shut behind her, making her jump.
“Putain!”
she swore to herself.

She walked into the living room, where the ambient light from the city softly came through the curtains. The French doors in to the balcony were still open. She walked over and pulled the curtains aside.

“There you are,” she said, stepping out onto the balcony.

Eric turned around quickly, startled.

“Sorry. You weren’t answering, so I used the keys.”

“Hey,” he said. He seemed distracted, preoccupied. Then he turned around and went back to staring out over the city.

She went over to him, leaning back against the railing so that she could look him in the eyes. “You okay?”

Eric closed his eyes for a moment and smiled a little. Then he turned to her. “Yeah, I’m all right. I’m just really tired.”

Miriam took one of his arms in both her hands and shook him ever so slightly. Then she pulled in close, laying her head on his shoulder in a gesture of affection that she’d started using ever since they’d become close enough for it to be okay. “Lately you’ve been working too much. You should take a little time off for yourself.”

Eric’s face relaxed. He caressed her hair a little with his free hand. “I remember back when I was the one who gave
you
advice.”

“I’ve grown. I’m wiser than you now.”

They both laughed. Shaw freed himself from her embrace and put his arm over her shoulder, pulling her in close again so that they could look out over the city together. The pair stood there for a few moments in silence, staring at London by night.

“I’m serious, though,” said Miriam. “I’m worried about you. Ever since my parents died, you’re the closest thing to a father I’ve got.”

Eric sighed. “Your aunt and uncle wouldn’t be very happy to hear you say that. They’re the ones who raised you, not me. They think of you as their daughter.”

“I love my aunt and uncle. They’ve been wonderful to me. It’s just that they were there before too, and I can’t bring myself to see them as mother and father. With you it’s different. You weren’t there before, but after, you were always there for me. You’ve always shown me the right way, given me sound advice.” She was winding one of her curls around her index finger. “You
saved
me. It’s as if you took their place. If I’ve become who I am today—Miriam Leroux, detective with the homicide investigative unit at Scotland Yard—it’s thanks to you. You’ve taught me everything I know about this job. You’re my guide, my leader.”

Eric hugged her tight but didn’t say a thing. He could tell she was emotional, but she seemed to be struggling with something as well.

One small, lone tear worked its way out of the corner of her eye. She reached up and quickly wiped it away. Miriam wasn’t herself either, but she couldn’t stand by and say nothing. “I can see you’re unhappy,” she said, knowing that she had to begin somewhere. “And I want to do something to help you, just like you’ve done for me all these years.”

“I’m okay, Miriam.”

“That’s not true!” she protested vehemently. “You’re so . . . so
alone
!”

Eric shook his head and snorted.

“I love Crystal like a mother, and it hurt a lot when the two of you got separated, but it’s been over two years since your divorce now. You have to move forward. You need to move forward.”

“Don’t you think I am?” he said at length, a trace of annoyance in his voice.

“No. Definitely not.”

Shaw pulled away from her and placed both hands on the balcony railing.

“I understand. Do you know that?” continued Miriam. “I can understand why you’re attracted to her.” Even though she hadn’t said Adele’s name, she could see a tremor run through his body. “She’s young, beautiful, intelligent, very good at her job, and plus . . . there’s this
thing
between the two of you. It’s really an irresistible mix, but even you must be aware that all this won’t do either of you any good.”

“There’s nothing between me and Adele.”

“Oh, yes there is.”

“I know what you’re referring to,” Eric said, finally turning to meet Miriam’s gaze. “That little scene with the key the other day. It’s not what you think. Nothing happened.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“You’re behaving like a jealous daughter.”

“I’m behaving like a concerned daughter.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“It doesn’t seem that way—not from the way you’re behaving,” she exclaimed, raising her voice a little too much.

“I already told you,” Eric murmured. “Nothing happened between me and Adele.”

“If nothing has happened yet . . .” said Miriam, pausing. “It’s because even you know that it wouldn’t be right. But if you don’t pull away from her, if you don’t at least try to get her out of your head, sooner or later something
will
happen. And then you’ll really risk getting hurt.” She moved back in close to Eric, running her hand along the railing. Her bracelet tinkled a little against the metal. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

“You don’t want me to be alone; you don’t want me to be with someone. What exactly am I supposed to do, according to you?”

“Oh, of course I want you to find someone.
Zut!
You’re a handsome man, intelligent, witty . . . There’s an army of women marching around out there who would tear each other’s eyes out just to be with you.
Maybe
even someone more your age.” She saw him open his mouth to protest that last jab, but she cut him off before he could. “Of course I want you to find somebody. It’s just that your somebody can’t be
Adele
.”

“Well, if that’s what you’re worried about, then worry no more. It’s not even an issue. She’s not attracted to me at all.”

Miriam burst out in sarcastic laughter and didn’t make any effort to hide it. “Sure, boss!”

“And while we’re on the subject,” continued Eric, “why don’t you tell me about you? Whatever happened to Jonathan?”

“Oh no, you’re not changing the subject!”

“Come again? You get to rummage around in my private life, but I’m not allowed to ask you about yours?”

Miriam put her hands on her hips. As usual, it was all but impossible to reason with Eric. He always plowed ahead, following his own path, ignoring other people’s opinions, especially hers. Despite everything she had gone through, he continued to view her as little more than a baby girl.

“So?” he said, provoking her.

And in the end she had to give in. “We’re not seeing each other anymore. He was always complaining about the late nights. I couldn’t take it anymore and I left him.”

“Ah. That’s a shame.” Eric flaunted a contrite expression. “You’re a beautiful girl, intelligent and witty,” he said in a singsong voice. “You really should find someone.”

“There’s time for all that. I’m not in any hurry.”

“Of course. You’ve got all the time in the world because you’re young. You can get together and break up again whenever you want. I, on the other hand, need to settle down with someone my age before it’s too late, right?”

She was hurt by the contempt in his voice. She hadn’t meant to make him feel like an old man.

“Did you ever stop to think that after having been married for almost fifteen years, maybe I’d like to have a little fun?”

“And you want to have this
fun
with Adele Pennington?” she said, her voice rising.

“Why not? I know you don’t like her very much, but you don’t have to be that way.”

That was too much. This was turning childish. “You know full well that’s not the problem.”

Eric gripped the railing in anger, making it vibrate. “I know, but it’s still my business.” He glared at her, furious, so much so that for a moment Miriam feared she’d pushed him too far. But then he turned on one heel and went back inside.

He was right. It wasn’t her business.

“We’d better get going,” said Eric from inside the apartment. “Jane must be wondering what’s happened to us.”

Miriam took one last, disconsolate look out over the dark sky. The clouds hung so low that they reflected the city light, creating a depressing reddish glow that seemed to mirror what she felt in her heart.

An unbearable cacophony of voices emerged from the pub, making it seem like the building was swelling, fit to burst. The enormous crowd inside only confirmed that impression. People were everywhere, elbowing each other for room, laughing, talking, drinking. The background music was a little loud, but even so it was impossible to tell exactly what song was playing.

While Miriam moved out into the crowd, Eric stood off to one side. He was already overwhelmed by all the different thoughts racing through his head, memories he’d thought he’d put away for good. He’d hoped that coming to this party would be a positive distraction, but now that he was here, his senses under assault from all sides, he felt even more alone and isolated than he had back home in his apartment. He would come away from this with a monster headache, just to end the day with a bang.

“Eric!” A familiar voice rose up above the others.

He craned his neck and looked around, searching for the voice’s owner before finally making out Jane’s contagious grin. He could only identify her by her smile, because the rest of her was unrecognizable. She didn’t look at all like he was used to seeing her.

Jane was wearing a long green evening gown covered with sequins. Her usually wavy hair had been ironed flat, and it seemed longer than before. She was wearing a headband adorned with a long green feather. It was an outfit that had nothing to do with the woman he usually saw dressed in elegant silk pants and pressed white shirts when they were together in the office.

“Wow! I didn’t know the circus was in town,” said Eric, smiling.

She laughed merrily and then gave him an enormous hug. “Oh, Eric, I’m so happy you came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Eric. He took a small red package with a beautiful gold ribbon out of his pocket and gave it to her. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” said Jane, snatching the package out of his hand. She seemed overjoyed. Given the way she was talking, Eric supposed she’d already enjoyed a few too many drinks. But that was fine. After all, it was her birthday and she deserved it.

Jane, wearing long, white silk gloves, had a little difficulty opening the gift. After loosening the ribbon, she unwrapped a pair of lacquered steel earrings—all the latest rage, or at least that’s what the jewelry saleswoman had told him.

“They’re fantastic! Thanks, boss.” She planted a big kiss on his cheek.

“You’re having a banner night, aren’t you?” said Eric, rolling his chin to take in the entire room. “I hope nobody calls the cops for an emergency tonight. Things could get embarrassing,” he added with a grimace.

His comment only made Jane laugh harder. “Impossible! I invited the entire Scotland Yard!”

“There we go. Now it all makes sense.”

“We’ll do it again in September when it’s your birthday. It’ll be great!” Waving her arms around in excitement, Jane accidentally struck a passing waiter in the face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said before grabbing a couple of glasses off the waiter’s tray.

“To tell you the truth,” said Eric, “I was planning on doing something a little more low key.”

“No, no, no . . .” Jane offered him one of the glasses, filled to the brim with an unknown liquor. “You only turn fifty once. You have to exaggerate.”

He looked sidelong at his second in command, throwing her an ironic smile before eventually accepting the drink. “Well, don’t get your hopes up. I’m certainly not wearing anything like that!” He gestured to his colleague’s outfit. Jane, her drink on her lips, started laughing so hard she practically choked on it. Eric start laughing too, but he studied his drink a little more carefully before imbibing. The last time he’d had something to drink when he didn’t know what it was, the evening hadn’t exactly been a success.

“Did you come with Miriam?” asked Jane, shaking her dress a little where her drink had spilled on it. She wiped it clean with the back of her hand that held the gift. Fortunately the cloth was resistant and she cleaned it off before the fabric absorbed so much as a drop.

“Yes, but I lost her in the crowd.” He craned his neck and looked around briefly to see if he could find his “adopted” daughter nearby. “The last time I saw her she was looking for the bar.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Instead of me, she’s looking for the bar.” Jane laughed again. This time Eric didn’t imitate her.

“Did something happen?” His second in command had a sixth sense for trouble, and apparently it worked even when she was a few sheets to the wind.

He waved his hand, minimizing it. “Nothing, nothing. You know how Miriam can be.”

Jane made a sound of agreement, but she seemed to be nodding to what Eric
hadn’t
said. “In any case,” she said, giving him an allusive smile, “Adele’s already here, if you’re interested.”

Eric shot her a reproving look, even though he found himself fighting off the impulse to start looking around immediately for the other woman.

“All right,” said Jane, throwing back what was left of her drink and plopping the glass down on a table where a few of their colleagues were hotly discussing some topic. “I need a mirror so that I can try out my new present!” She held up the little red box with the earrings and shook it. “You go ahead and mingle. Eat something. Have a drink. Have fun, Eric. That’s what I’m saying!” She gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned away.

Eric, still smiling, focused on the drink he was holding in one hand. Sure, why not? He took a sip, and almost instantly his mouth was on fire. He swallowed, and his entire esophagus went up in flames. The heat radiated, expanding in his stomach as his face twisted against the burn.

Better to move around a little. His eyes still watering, he located a table he could abandon his drink on so that he wouldn’t be tempted to have another sip. He wiped one hand across his forehead, where a light sweat had broken out, and took a deep breath.