Vito frowned. “That’s hard to believe. How could he be sure they’d accept?”
“It’s like he knew something else,” Nick mused. “Blackmail?”
“More like financials,” Brent Yelton said. “All the victims had overdrawn checking accounts, owed thousands on their credit cards, and had credit scores in the toilet.”
“So we still have nothing,” Nick said darkly, but Beverly was smiling.
“No, we said he didn’t e-mail anybody else as Munch,” she said, “but we kept thinking about what Jen said this morning. That E. Munch meant something. So we Googled and came up with this.” She pulled an art book from under the printouts. It was open to a painting Vito recognized.
It was a surreal, ghoulish-looking character whose mouth yawned open hideously. Just like Greg Sanders’s had this afternoon. “The Scream,” Vito said.
“Edvard Munch,” Scarborough added. “How apropos, given the way he made Gregory scream. This guy is one scary, very thorough sociopath.”
Beverly flipped to another picture, an even scarier one in a medieval style, with demons wreaking havoc on lost souls in grisly, macabre ways. “This is Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. A model named Kay Crawford got an e-mail from one H. Bosch yesterday afternoon. She hadn’t answered the e-mail yet.”
“And we got her computer before it fried,” Brent added with satisfaction. “Bosch wanted to hire her for a documentary.”
“She’s agreed to help us,” Tim said. “We could set a trap for this bastard.”
A smile started across Vito’s face. “I like it. A lot. I think her help will mainly be her silence, but let’s get her in here first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, if you’ve got her computer, can you answer the e-mail and say you want the job?”
Brent nodded. “I made a full sector image of Kay Crawford’s hard drive, so if the virus’s timer is triggered by a reply like I think it is, then we’ll have a backup.”
“Excellent. And Liz.” Vito turned to her. “You said you’d gotten a hit from Interpol.”
“It might mean nothing to us.” She slid some faxed pictures from an envelope. “Apparently the guy in Europe who died, Alberto Berretti? He owed huge back taxes to the Italian government and they were watching his assets at the time of his death. They expected his children to try to divert some of his collection for their own private sale. They’ve had agents watching Berretti’s grown children for quite some time. This is one of Berretti’s sons with an American of unknown identity.”
Vito looked at the pictures. “His face is clear enough, but until somebody recognizes him it doesn’t help us. But it’s a start.”
Bev and Tim gathered their printouts. “Vito, we’re calling it a night,” Tim said. “We got no sleep last night, and we’re seeing double from all these printouts.”
“Thanks. Can you leave that art book? I want to look at it later.”
“I’ll write up a detailed profile for you,” Thomas said. “This killer used some very specific language. I’ll see if any patients like this have been documented.”
“And I’ll do the gunshot, the shrapnel, and Greg Sanders’s autopsies tomorrow,” Katherine said. “Oh, here’s the photo you wanted of the brand on Sanders’s cheek.”
Vito took it and put it on the table. “Thanks, Katherine. I didn’t want Sophie to have to go to the morgue.”
“’Cause he likes her,” Nick said slyly, and Katherine smiled.
“Of course he does. She’s my little girl.” She slanted a look up at Vito. “Remember that, Vito. She’s my little girl.” With that warning, Katherine left with Thomas.
“I’ll get Sophie back up here so she can look at the picture, then we’re headed out,” Vito said. He went to the door and stopped short. “Oh, shit.”
Wednesday, January 17, 7:10
P.M.
Sophie and Katherine sat side by side on a bench outside the conference room.
Vito crouched in front of Sophie, who looked pale. “What happened?”
She looked down at him, her eyes stark. “I was on my way to the cafeteria and got a call on my cell, something you needed to know. When I came up to knock on the door…” She shrugged fitfully. “I heard the screams. I’m all right now. Just shaken up.”
Vito took her hands, found them cold. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to hear.”
Katherine urged her to her feet. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you home with me.”
“No, I need to see Gran.” She saw the others watching and scowled, embarrassed. “Stop it. I was just shocked. Where’s the picture you wanted me to look at?”
“Sophie, you don’t need to do that tonight,” Katherine said.
“Stop it, Katherine,” Sophie snapped. “I’m not five anymore.” She caught her temper and sighed. “I’m sorry, but don’t treat me like a child. Please.” She pulled away and went into the conference room, leaving Katherine looking hurt and forlorn.
“It’s hard when your babies grow up,” Liz murmured and Katherine chuckled weakly.
“Maybe I do treat her like she’s five, but that’s how I remember her best.” She looked at Vito. “I have sharp implements at my disposal. Don’t make me use them.”
Vito winced. “Yes, ma’am.” He went to the conference room where Sophie was looking at the photo from Interpol. “That’s not Sanders.” He started to move the Interpol photo from the table, but her hand came down to clamp his wrist like a vise.
“Vito. I know him. This is Kyle Lombard. Remember Monday night, when I gave you Brewster’s name, I gave you Lombard’s, too.”
“I know. We’ve been searching for him but haven’t found him yet. Liz,” he called, “come here, please. Are you sure, Sophie?”
“Yes. And it’s also why I came up to talk to you. I got two calls, actually. The first was from Amanda Brewster. She was screaming that she knew Alan was with me. Apparently he didn’t come home for dinner. I hung up on her. Then not two minutes later, my cell rings again. This time it’s Kyle’s wife.”
“Kyle’s wife?”
“Yes.” Sophie sighed. “She accused me of having an affair with Kyle.”
Vito narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“She said she’d heard Kyle on the phone, talking about me, and said she’d be damned if she let me steal her husband like I tried to steal Amanda Brewster’s.” She shrugged when he lifted his brows in question. “Amanda was very vocal about the hussy who tried to break up her happy home. There, um, weren’t a lot of people who didn’t know. Kyle’s wife said that Amanda had called yesterday to tell her I was back in the picture. They’ve circled the wagons to protect their happy marriages.”
“I guess Kyle and Clint learned a lot more from Alan Brewster than archeology,” Vito said dryly, and was rewarded with a wry smile from Sophie.
“I talked to Clint Shafer on Monday. You saw Alan on Tuesday. Tonight Kyle didn’t show up for dinner, so his wife checked his caller ID and saw he’d talked to Clint. She called Clint’s wife, who went through his caller ID and gave Kyle’s wife my number at the museum. Incidentally, Kyle’s wife says Clint didn’t come home for dinner either.”
“But both wives called you on your cell.”
She frowned. “You’re right. How did she get my cell? Well, you’ll figure that out. My point is, now you have a photo of Kyle Lombard taken… where?”
“Bergamo, Italy, was what Interpol said,” Liz answered from behind him.
“That’s less than a half hour by train from where Berretti lived. You now have Kyle’s photo, who doesn’t come home two days after I asked a question. Coincidence?”
“No.” Vito looked at Nick and Liz. “Let’s get an APB for Clint Shafer in-”
“Long Island,” Sophie supplied.