In Death 31 - Indulgence in Death

army of very slick attorneys.”
    “I don’t care if they’re—”
    “Lieutenant.” Baxter stepped back in. “Sorry to interrupt. I need a minute.”
    She walked to him, listened, nodded. “Tell the room.”
    “I just got off the ’link with one of the most respected and renowned makers of whips—that’s your bull, your snake, and so on. He verifies making the murder weapon for a Leona Bloom—who was buying it as a gift for a friend. Buying the whip and a package of lessons. The whip guy keeps very specific records as he takes large pride in his work. The lessons were given to Winston Dudley the Fourth six years ago, in Sydney.”
    “That’s good,” Reo said.
    “Whip guy remembers Dudley,” Baxter continued. “Remembers he took the lessons seriously. He not only took the package, but added to it with another round of lessons. Whip guy says Dudley was damn good with a whip by the end of it.”
    “That’s very, very good,” Reo added.
    “It’s bull’s-eye,” Eve countered. “What do you need, to actually see them kill somebody? We can link the weapons to the men, the victims to the men. Moriarity’s going to have the crossbow and harpoon gun, Dudley’s still got the sheath he used for the bayonet. Believe it. A case for the whip. They’d want part of the weapon to keep, to gloat over.
    “There’s no way to know who they’ve targeted next, but there will be a target.” She pressed that button, pressed it hard. “These are addictive personalities, and they won’t stop. They can’t stop,” Eve insisted. “They like it too much, and they’re at tie score. They won’t stop until one of them misses, and even then, they won’t stop. After an entire life of playing at work, at playing at sport, at just goddamn playing, they’ve found something they’re really good at, something that they can share as intimately as lovers. The people they kill are only important because they’re important—but every one of the victims lack what these men would see as their pedigree, their privilege to be important by birth.
    “They’re addicts,” she repeated, “and won’t give up this drug. And they’re freaking soul mates, so they won’t give up this union. They may take it elsewhere—Europe, South America, Asia, mix their pie a little when they’re bored of New York.”
    “I think they’ll stay until they’ve finished this particular contest.” Mira spoke quietly. “I agree with the lieutenant’s evaluation. These men need to feed their desires, their whims, their sense of intimacy with each other. They need to indulge themselves, and this is their ultimate competition, and partnership. They work together, even as they compete. Killing two people, one after another, using the same alibi would have been yet another kind of rush. A new thrill, and codependency. They may continue that pattern, or escalate. And once again kill together. I believe that’s how they plan to indulge themselves with you, Eve.”

21
    HE’D WONDERED IF SHE’D FOLLOWED THOSE dots, but Roarke could see now she hadn’t gone there. Oh, her ego was healthy enough, but it simply hadn’t clicked how precisely she fit their victim profile.
    She was the best at what she did, and well known for it, particularly well with the success of Nadine’s book. She’d made herself what she was.
    She wasn’t for hire in a technical sense, but she served.
    And the connection, well fuck it all, it was through him, wasn’t it?
    She was going there now, and bloody buggering hell she was considering how she could use it, use herself.
    “It’s your opinion I’m a target,” Eve said to Mira.
    “It’s my opinion that you’re not only a perfect fit, but would be, to them, the ultimate prey. Their timing of the first murder played the odds, and they were good ones, that you would catch the case,” Mira reminded her. “If you hadn’t, you would certainly have been involved in some manner by the second murder, which also connected to Roarke through its location. You fit their target requirements. You’re known to be one of the best in your field, a field of service. You’ve gained notoriety for what you do.”
    “I don’t have any past connection with them.” But even as she said it, she glanced at Roarke.
    “Of course you do,” he said, equably, “because I do. My business dealings and theirs have crossed in the past. They have reason, if they take such matters personally, to resent me for some of those