“Yeah.” He might’ve been agreeing to do-it-yourself root canal.
The three of us powwowed in the Parnells’ spotless kitchen. Someone had put money into the decor: matte- black Euro cabinets trimmed in chrome, white marble counters that appeared unused, copper pots hanging from a cast-iron ceiling rack, everything else brushed steel.
Maria Thomas plinked a counter with a fingernail. “Marble’s good for rolling pastry dough, not cooking. No one did serious food, here.”
“Didn’t know you were into the culinary arts, Maria.”
“I’m not, my daughter is. That translates to she’s the one gets addicted to Top Chef, I’m the one pays tuition at some overpriced institute in New York. Now she wants to spend next summer in France, learning how to properly slice onions. This is a kid who survived the first four years of her life on hot dogs and chocolate milk.”
She fingered a crisp tweed lapel. Her hair was sprayed in place. Not helmet-stiff, a higher level of fixative that lent the illusion of softness. An expensive-looking phone dangled from her other hand. “Some mess, huh?”
Milo said, “It’s a step up.”
“From what?”
“Not from, for,” he said. “The offender. He took risks with the husband in order to get to the wife. Earned himself a two-fer, kicked up the thrill level. But you know that, already. Seeing as you’ve been here for a while.”
She stared at him. “Someone’s touchy.”
He turned his back on her. Interesting move; she outranked him significantly. He’d been there when she’d screwed up, had never exploited it. Maybe Maria figured that gave him a certain power. Maybe that would eventually work against him.
“Okay,” she said, “let’s clear the air right now so we can go about our respective businesses?”
“Thought we were in the same business.”
Thomas’s gray eyes turned to pond pebbles. “I’m here because the chief has been following this since the second one, Mister”-consulting her phone-“Quigg. The reason the chief was informed early is someone thought a serial pattern might be forming and that the details were sufficiently out of the ordinary for the chief to need to be apprised. Don’t ask who informed him, that’s irrelevant.”
“I couldn’t care less about any of that, Maria, all I want to do is clear four murders.”
“That’s what we all want. Think there’s a remote chance of your accomplishing it anytime in the near future?”
“You betcha, boss,” he said. “Everything will be gift-wrapped and presented for your approval by”-reading his Timex-“nine forty-three tonight. Give or take a nanosecond. Also on the schedule is the capture of Osama’s entire organization but in the meantime be sure to warn His Amazingness to treat any packages from Pakistan with caution.”
“Hey-”
“Is there a remote chance? What kind of question is that, Maria? You think this is writing traffic tickets?”
“Ah, the temper.” She winked. “The classic Irish temper and I can say that because half my family traces back to County Derry.”
“Whoopee for genealogy, Maria. Is there a point to this conversation?”
Thomas caressed marble, ran a finger under the counter rim. “Indulge yourself, Milo, keep venting. Get all the bad feeling out so we can both do our jobs like grown-ups.”
She turned to me, seeking confirmation of something.
I kept studying the double-wide refrigerator. No magnets, no memos or photos. Nothing like a blank panel of steel to keep one fascinated.
Maria Thomas turned back to Milo. “You bet it’s a reasonable question. When’s the last time you dealt with a serial remotely similar to this, Milo? A necktie of guts? Jesus, it’s beyond disgusting.”
He didn’t answer.
She said, “I can’t see any common thread among the victims other than they’re all white. Can you?”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet,” she repeated. To me: “ You ever see anything like this? A sexual psychopath who throws such a wide net?”
Milo said, “It’s not necessarily sexual.”
“Then what?”
“Some kind of grudge. The first victim was engaged in a big-time lawsuit and I just found a financial complaint in Mr. Parnell’s desk.”
“I saw that,” she said. “You can’t seriously think a money thing led to that. And what about Mr. Quigg? He sue anyone or vice versa?”
“Nothing’s come up yet.”
“You should’ve checked his financials.”
“I have.”
“And you haven’t found anything. So the answer’s no, not ‘nothing’s come up.’ Meaning there’s no common thread. Meaning a money thing’s less than unlikely. You go along with his theory, Dr. Delaware? You don’t see this as a sexual psychopath?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I don’t see the point of guessing.”
“So far I’ve heard nothing but guessing-all right, enough of this pleasantry. I’m expected to go back to the boss and report something. What do you suggest, Milo?”
Milo said, “Tell him each time the killer strikes he increases the possibility of a lead. In the meantime, I’ll be concentrating on the Parnells.”
“Each time,” she said. “Maybe by the time we get ten, eleven victims, we’ll be in great shape. Very reassuring.”
Milo grinned in that lupine way: teeth bared in anticipation of ripping flesh.
Maria Thomas said, “You always see humor when no one else does. When were you planning to go to the public?”
“His Perfectness thinks I should?”
“Word to the wise, Milo: You really need to stop with the obnoxious nicknames, one day it’ll get back to him.”
“He doesn’t like being perfect?”
“The public. When? ”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“No? That’s too bad because the chief thinks it might be useful.” She looked over her shoulder, in the direction of the bedroom. “Given the steadily rising corpse count. And something tells me he won’t find your lassitude reassuring.”
Milo walked away from her again. Her face tensed with anger but before she could speak, he circled back. “Okay, here’s something to tell him: If this was a confirmed sexually motivated psychopath, some rapist who escalated to murder, I’d have been talking to Public Affairs as soon as the second one surfaced, hoping an earlier, live victim would come forth. The same goes for a serial asshole targeting a specific victim population-hookers, convenience clerks, whatever. In that case there’d be a moral as well as a practical benefit: letting high-risk targets know so they can protect themselves. But what do we go public on, here, Maria? A bogeyman stalking and butchering random citizens? That risks setting off a panic with very little upside.”
“What’s your alternative?” she said. “A nice collection of murder books?”
“I haven’t even started working these two victims. Maybe I’ll learn something that will change everything. If you let me do the damn job.”
“ I’m holding you back?”
“Wasting time explaining myself is holding me back.”
“Oh, so you’re different from anyone else?” Back to me: “What’s with the question mark on these two, Doctor?”
