A Perfect Obsession. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ pass a fire code that way,” McBride grumbled.

      “That’s just it. An alarm to the fire department goes off when they’re opened,” Mike said.

      “Something had to have happened—a technical failure?” McBride posited. “And of course there are no alleys.”

      “It’s Manhattan,” Mike said. “Buildings wind up flush together because real estate is prime. No alleys,” he added, looking at Craig.

      “No. No alleys,” Craig agreed.

      “The cameras had to have been tampered with. Someone had to have jimmied the alarm system,” McBride said. “It’s looking like the owner himself might be guilty in this thing. Who the hell else could have done all that?”

      Craig had to admit that it seemed the detective was right.

      How had someone gotten into the church, carried the body downstairs and gotten it into the coffin without being seen?

      “She was killed by a ghost,” Mike muttered.

      “Seems that way,” McBride said, shaking his head. “But she’s still a real corpse. A ghost would have had to have carried in a real corpse!”

      Craig’s buzzer rang then; he hit the intercom.

      “Special Agent Frasier,” one of the secretaries said, “Dr. Fuller and Ms. Finnegan are here. I’ve taken the liberty of sending someone down to get them. Do I hold them out here or send them in?”

      “Send them right in,” Craig said.

      “Good. The shrinks can explain how ghosts work and make victims invisible, too,” McBride said, his sarcasm a cover for his exasperation. “Something’s wrong—film, tape, digital images. They had to be manipulated.”

      “We have the best techs in the world,” Mike said.

      “I don’t care how good you are, there’s always someone better,” McBride argued.

      That was true enough, Craig thought.

      “And that would point to someone who knew Le Club Vampyre,” he said aloud, glancing over at Mike.

      “Or the church—when it was a church,” Mike said.

      “It’s probably a new system. It’s different being a church and a nightclub,” Craig pointed out.

      He was glad then to see Bentley Fuller walk in with Kieran.

      “Guy looks like he’s in great shape. He’d make a solid FBI guy,” McBride commented beneath his breath, and he stood to greet Fuller.

      Craig thanked them for coming. Kieran nodded at him and took a seat, but he picked up on her vibe right away. She looked uncomfortable. He wondered why. She hadn’t appeared so miserable the first time she’d come down to the FBI headquarters, back when they barely knew one another. By now, of course, she’d been here often enough. But still, there was something off about her.

      Fuller walked right up to Craig’s board and stared at the image of Cary Howell.

      “Wow,” Fuller murmured. “Same work—as in what the killer seemed to do. Same hand, too. I would be stunned if it wasn’t.”

      Kieran was looking at the image, too.

      “But here’s what different. Cary Howell was in a mausoleum. The old lady who died might have lived on for years, and Cary wouldn’t have been found until then. Why hide one girl and put the other where she’d be found the next day?” Craig asked.

      “He thinks he’s an artist,” Kieran said.

      “What?” Mike asked.

      “He’s creating something with these women—art, in his mind. Temporary exhibits, if you will,” Dr. Fuller said. “I think he realized with his first victim that no one saw the true beauty of his creation since he didn’t make sure that the body was found quickly enough,” Fuller explained. “I do believe that Cary Howell was his first victim—or, I hate to say it—an earlier victim. He has been experimenting and learning.”

      “Why put them in a coffin then, period?” Craig asked.

      “Because they’re dead, and the dead belong in coffins, but their beauty should be remembered, honored,” Dr. Fuller said.

      Craig glanced at Kieran. She was staring at his board. Her face was white.

      “Kieran, are you all right?” he asked her.

      “Fine,” she told him. She leaned forward. “I was looking at your suspect list. And the thing is—everyone in New York knew about the historical find.”

      “Yes, but, everyone in New York didn’t know the layout of the church or where the wall had been broken,” Craig said.

      “You have ‘mystery lover’ on the list,” she said.

      “Yes.”

      “I don’t see Jeannette Gilbert dating anyone who wasn’t young, her age, say. Probably someone appealing. I don’t see that as John Shaw or Henry Willoughby or...”

      She paused, her voice trailing.

      “Or Roger Gleason?” he asked.

      “Gleason is...interesting,” she admitted.

      “I think most young women would find him appealing,” Mike said.

      “Slimy,” McBride said, shaking his head.

      Kieran glanced at McBride and nodded. “Some women are drawn to men like him, though. He keeps himself fit, he has a quick smile and—here’s something important—he had something to offer them. He must have seen plenty of young women coming in for a job at the club.”

      “Rich as Croesus, he is. He owns the building,” Mike pointed out. “The whole old church. Man, that’s some mean property in Manhattan.”

      Craig looked at Dr. Fuller. “What about Miss Gilbert’s manager, Oswald Martin? The man is in his late thirties. He made her rich. But she grew up, and maybe she wanted to go her own way.”

      “Possible, but unlikely in my mind. She was making a fortune for him. He tried to rule her life, yes, but she was getting what she wanted. She could slip away when she wanted,” Fuller said. “She gave impromptu press interviews—without him around.”

      “He might have been furious over the mystery lover,” Mike said.

      “And she might have just made up the mystery lover for good press,” Fuller said.

      Kieran looked at him quickly. “A mystery lover is always good press,” she said.

      “We’re all speculating now,” Craig said, putting an end to the talk. “I have agents out to find Oswald. I plan to speak with him tonight. Can you, at the moment, give us anything helpful?” he asked Fuller.

      “Yes, СКАЧАТЬ