and was there, on the main floor, when the robbery happened. I remember hearing my parents talk about it, and when I was a bit older I developed such an interest in crime that I looked up the details. The family connection, however distant, added to the excitement for me.”
“Is she still around? The designer?”
“I have no idea. It didn’t work out between her and my uncle. I do know that she didn’t know a thing until security shut the place down. She didn’t know the inside man. At least that’s what I got from my uncle when I asked him about it later. I could get you her name, I’m sure, if you want to try to track her down.”
“I might, but it’s probably the wrong direction. At least at this point. Tell me about the killer.”
“Well. The act, the murders themselves, aren’t his priority. They’re a by-product. His victims and his methods are different, each suiting his needs at the time. He would be most interested in his own needs. The fact that they were both women, even attractive, isn’t important. I doubt he has a spouse or serious relationship as either would interfere with his self-absorption. There was nothing sexual, despite his romancing of Tina Cobb, and that romancing was not only a means to an end but on his own terms.”
“Taking her places he preferred in order to show off his superior intellect and taste.”
“Yes. There was nothing personal in either murder. He sees the big picture, from his own narrow view. Cobb could be utilized and exploited, and so she was. He plans and considers, so it follows that he knew he could kill her when her use to him ended. He knew her, set out to know her. He knew her face, the touch of her hand, the sound of her voice, may have been intimate with her physically if it moved him toward his goal, but there would be no personal connection for him.”
“He destroyed her face.”
“Yes, but not out of rage, not out of personal emotion. Out of self-preservation. Both murders were a result of his need to protect himself. He will remove, destroy, eliminate anything or anyone who gets in the way of his goal or his own personal safety.”
“There was violence in his elimination of Cobb.”
“Yes.”
“He hurt her. To extract information?”
“Possibly, yes. More likely to attempt to mislead the police, to make them think it was a crime of passion. It may have been both. He would have considered. He has time to consider. He took Cobb to crowded places, away from her own aegis. But his choices reflect a certain style. Art, theater, a trendy restaurant.”
“Reflecting his aegis.”
“He would want to be comfortable, yes.” The first salad plate slid out, and Mira set it in front of Eve. “He entered Gannon’s home when he knew she was out. He was careful to shut down the security, to take the disks. To protect himself. He brought a weapon—though he believed the house empty, he brought the knife. He prepares for eventualities, takes detours when necessary. He didn’t attempt to make the break-in and murder appear to be a burglary gone wrong by taking away valuables.”
“Because it had already been done? Because Alex Crew used that method with Laine Tavish?”
Mira took the second plate, smiled. “It reflects a powerful ego, doesn’t it? ‘I won’t repeat, I’ll create.’ And a respect for art and antiques. He didn’t vandalize, didn’t destroy the artwork, the valuable furniture. He’d consider such a thing beneath him. He has knowledge of such things, likely owns such things himself. Certainly he aspires to. But if it was only aspiration, he would have taken what appealed to his sense of aesthetic or avarice. He’s very focused.”
“He’s educated? Cultured?”
“Art galleries, museums, West Village theater?” Mira shrugged a shoulder. “He could have taken the girl to Coney Island, to Times Square, to a dozen places a young man of her same sphere might take a girl on a date. But he didn’t.”
“Because, like stealing art pieces or electronics, it would be beneath him to munch on a soy dog in Coney Island.”
“Mmm.” Mira nibbled on salad. “He isn’t looking for glory, fame or attention. He isn’t looking for sex or even wealth in the traditional sense. He’s looking for something very specific.”
“Alex Crew had a son.”
Mira’s brows winged up. “Did he?”
“A kid at the time this all went down.”
She filled Mira in, then let the doctor absorb the new data while