The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [207]
Though she didn’t buy it, she rearranged her murder board into two sections, one for Flores/Lino, one for Jenkins.
Sipping coffee, she studied the results.
“On the surface, sure. On the surface,” she muttered. But it didn’t go deep enough; it ignored the subtleties.
The simple priest—who wasn’t a priest—in a predominantly Latino parish, and the big-time, wealthy, media-savvy evangelist. Different faiths, different cultures, different doctrines.
Considering, she circled the board. If the computer was right, and she was wrong, the media itself might be part of the motive. The first murder got plenty of coverage, and with this one, that was going to explode. Both murders had been executed in front of witnesses, both during what could be termed a well-staged, rehearsed performance, and both weapons had been planted backstage. Where, even with the security for Jenkins, people could and did move fairly freely.
Both victims had secrets, and neither was as good and pure as he professed. Or his image professed.
She turned as Roarke came in. “Probability hits mid-eighties I’ve got one killer, two vics.”
“So you predicted.”
“Here’s a thought: If it’s one killer, could that killer have discovered the duplicity of each vic? Flores’s fakery, Jenkins with his liquor and his sidepiece.”
“Killed for hypocrisy?” Roarke studied her revised murder board. “Then many thousands of religious leaders best mind what they drink.”
“Yeah, and more than that. Why these two, in this city? Because, the killer lives here. Jenkins didn’t. Multiple homes, but none in New York. Plus he traveled extensively, so he could have been killed pretty much anywhere. Anytime.”
“But was killed here, and now. Only a couple of days after Flores.”
“Yeah. After. Fanatic psycho-killer? Then why start with the obscure priest, and not the biggest target? And where’s the killer’s claim for credit?”
Eve shook her head as she circled the board. “Sure, a lot of serials and signatures manage to keep their mouths shut, at least for a while. But it follows, for me, that if you’re going to target religious leaders, you’re the fanatic. You believe. And when you’re a fanatical believer, you, by God, just have to spread the word.”
“Or what’s the fun of being a fanatic?” Roarke agreed.
“Oh yeah. But there’s no word. And you kill the fake priest hoping, trusting the cops will discover he’s not who he says he is? You, the fanatic, don’t make damn sure he’s exposed? I don’t think so. You leave a sign, or you rent a goddamn ad blimp to denounce him.”
Roarke held up a finger, then moved to her kitchen to get his own coffee. “We’ve substantiated you don’t agree with your computer.”
“I think the computer’s full of shit.” She sent it an annoyed glance. “There was ritual in the first killing. It felt personal as well as hinging on the ceremony. The second? It feels . . .”
“Expedient,” Roarke suggested, and Eve shot a finger at him.
“Exactly. An opportunity seized. I sent the report to Mira, asked to be scheduled in for a consult.”
“Want to hear my opinion?”
“Yes, I do.”
“The probability doesn’t hold for me, not once you scrape away the thinnest top layer. Both victims were, ostensively, men of God. But, with the first, there’s no gain—nothing known, in any case.”
Roarke tapped a finger to Lino’s photo. “As Flores,” he continued, “while he was liked by those he worked with, and popular among the members of the church, a parish priest can and will be replaced. With the second, there’s considerable gain—monetarily, and the potential for some loss. At least potential for some loss in the short run. A replacement there will need to be cultivated. But, Jenkins ran what was, under it all, a business. Moves will be made to protect that business. If steps aren’t already being taken to do so, I’d be very surprised. In both cases, I’d say the murders were personal, in that they were target specific. The killer, or killers, accomplished precisely what they’d set out to do.”
“To eliminate the targets. But not, necessarily,