The boy that the blank-eyed pretty Ellen Janecek had seduced was almost two years younger than Adam when his brother died. Better to be seduced by a pretty young woman than raped by a bear-faced middle-aged man, if that could be considered a choice.
It would have been better if he had been able to complete the ritual within the twenty-four hours of the anniversary of his brother's death. But he could do it today. Lots of time today. He couldn't wait too long. He couldn't kill on his brother's birthday. That wasn't a day for revenge. It was a day to honor a short life.
He had to kill Ellen Janecek. The police would be watching, but he had to do it. His task was unfinished. He couldn't leave it that way. For the sake of Adam's memory, he couldn't leave it that way.
He didn't know what he would carve into her soft white flesh. He knew it would come to him at the moment he needed to know. He was inspired by his brother's memory, his parents' agony and his own rage. It would come to him, but first he had to find a way to get to Ellen Janecek.
French green clay is used for external cosmetic treatments by practitioners of alternative medicine. French green clay belongs to a subcategory of clay minerals known as illite clays. Rock quarries in southern France had a monopoly on its production till deposits were identified in China, Montana and Wyoming. The clay is green because it comes from a combination of iron oxides and decomposed plant matter, mostly kelp seaweed and other algae. Other components include montmorillonite, dolomite, magnesium, calcium, potassium, manganese, phosphorus, zinc, aluminum, silicon, copper, selenium and cobalt. Water removed. Clay sun-dried. French green clay stimulates skin and removes impurities from epidermis. Clay absorbs impurities from the skin cells, causes dead cells to slough off and stimulates flow of blood to epidermis. As clay dries on skin, it causes pores to tighten.
And that clay was what Lindsay found in one of the epidermal surface specimens taken from the people at the Wallen School.
French green clay, easily and inexpensively purchased at most health food stores, supposedly has curative powers when ingested. It is simply one kind of processed dirt, but Lindsay knew that people all over the world ate dirt, believed it was even a staple for health. The practice went back at least to medieval times.
In addition to being eaten, French green could be applied to the skin to bring up impurities. It might also bring up fragments of glass.
Lindsay needed a volunteer to spray glass fragments on and into his skin and then see if French green clay would pull the fragments out. There was only one readily available volunteer: Lindsay Monroe.
If it worked, she and Danny would have a suspect.
Stella got the call just before noon. She recognized the voice.
'I just talked to the arson investigator,' Devlin said. 'He confirmed what you found. Professionally placed explosives.'
'Good,' said Stella.
She was wearing her lab coat and gloves and sitting in front of a microscope examining a minute fragment of debris from the bomb site. Hawkes had gone to the DNA lab. He was now standing in the doorway, motioning to Stella.
She held up a hand, indicating that he should wait while she took the call.
'There's more,' Devlin said. 'Our investigator checked on the insurance. Doohan had a two-hundred- thousand-dollar policy on Doohan's. He could have sold the place for six times that much.'
'Maybe he needed money fast,' she said.
'An insurance company fast? He could have sold the bar today, cash, for four hundred thousand.'
'It doesn't make sense,' she said.
'No,' said Devlin. 'It doesn't. Unless your talkative man in with the broken ankle is lying to you.'
Hawkes stood in the doorway, arms folded, looking at her.
'I should be hearing this from your arson investigator,' Stella said.
'I asked him if I could make the call,' said Devlin. 'Ulterior motive. Dinner and a movie. You pick the movie. I pick the place we eat.'
'When?' she asked.
'Tuesday or Sunday,' he said. 'My nights off.'
'Two questions,' she said.
'Sure.'
'Are you married?'
'No. Never even been close. What else. My father was a fireman. So is my brother. I have a sister, lives in Teaneck, has three kids. I'm a practicing Catholic and will remain so till I get it right. I've been a fireman for seven years. Joined the day I finished college. NYU, pre-law. I'm a Yankees and Knicks fan. That's it. Life story.'
'That could have waited,' she said, looking at Hawkes who was yawning.
'Saves time,' he said. 'I don't mean it saves time so we can- '
'Understood,' said Stella. 'Devlin, I'm older than you by at least four years.'
'How do you know?' he asked.
'I'm good at estimating ages. Part of my job, though I usually do it on dead people.'
'It's part of your intrigue,' he said with a laugh she liked. 'I mean the age difference, not your working with the dead. I work with the dead a lot too. Gives us something in common.'
'Dinner and morbid conversation?' she asked.
'Your life story?'
'Tuesday night maybe,' she said. 'I'll find a comedy, something with Will Ferrell or Owen Wilson.'
'Sounds good. You like Greek food, right?'
'I like to eat,' she said.
'Give me an address and I'll pick you up at seven.'
'I'll pick a place and meet you there,' she said.
'Deal,' Devlin said.
She hung up and walked over to Hawkes.
'Houston,' he said. 'We've got a problem.'
That was all he said on the walk down the hall to the DNA lab where Jane Parsons was waiting for them.
'Two of your building explosion victims are related,' Jane said. 'Identical twins, as you know, are the only people who have the exact same DNA, but close relatives- siblings, parents, even first cousins- have enough markers to confirm a relationship.'
'Enough to go to court with?' asked Stella.
'We could,' said Jane, 'but a decent defense attorney can always create doubt. So this is just for you.'
'The cook, Malcom Cheswith,' said Hawkes. 'He's related to Connor Custus.'
Jane nodded her agreement.
Stella was too weary to be stunned, but not too weary to be very curious.
'It's all relative,' said Stella.
'What is?' asked Jane.
'That's what Custus said to me in the hospital. Said it three times. He was playing with me.'
'Let's go talk to Custus,' said Hawkes.
'Let's,' said Stella.
As they headed for the door, deep thunder rolled outside and lightning cracked somewhere not far away and the rain came down.
Stella was confident that she would come up with the right questions for Custus. What she wasn't confident of was what she would wear on Tuesday night for her date with Devlin. That would depend on whether or not the rain stopped by then. Like so many others in the five boroughs, she was beginning to think that the deluge might not end for a long, long time.
