‘Maybe the killer wanted to teach him a lesson for his greed.’
‘I don’t think money is a likely motive here, or if it is, it’s only part of it.’
‘Hold on a second, Kate. I have another call coming in.’
Kate’s attention went back to the images on the laptop. She noted the various pieces of art work in the hotel room, most likely mass-produced copies. Was there anything of importance to the killer? She knew she was clutching at straws with a copy of a Monet. She recognised it as Women in the Garden, a scaled-down version of the original. When Monet had painted it, the canvas was so large he had had to work on the upper half with the lower section positioned in a dug-out trench, maintaining a single point of view. It was as she was thinking about the painting that her eye was drawn to another image, which showed the victim reflected in a side mirror of the dressing table. It framed him perfectly, the scale reduced because of the distance, but the image was set within the parameters of the frame, almost as if it was picture perfect.
‘Kate, are you still there?’
‘The dressing table in the hotel room, Mark. Was it moved?’
‘How did you know? It was pulled out slightly from the wall on one side. I thought it might have been shifted as part of a struggle. One of the techies noticed the indents on the carpet from the more permanent position.’
‘It wasn’t moved because of a struggle, Mark. The killer adjusted the angle.’
‘Meaning?’
‘If I’m right, because she wanted to frame Rick Shevlin’s reflection in the glass.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘A photograph I took yesterday. From memory, I was standing at the windows … If the killer purposely formed a trajectory between the victim and the window, perfectly angling Rick Shevlin’s dead body in the dressing-table mirror, she wanted to layer the scene, multiply and reproduce her deed.’
‘I’m not getting you.’
‘She isn’t only creating a replica of the Hangman card. She’s creating an image within an image.’
‘Any idea as to why?’
‘No – at least, not yet. I’ll need you to double check the angle for me, to be completely sure, but this case is complicated. Our killer is extremely clever. Right now she is any number of steps ahead of us, and if I’m correct, unravelling this case won’t be easy.’
PART 2
SANDRA
I STARE AT my strained image in the bathroom mirror: I look like I’ve aged a hundred years. I pull the skin on my cheeks upwards, wondering about a facelift. Who are you kidding? I can’t stop thinking about last night with Edgar. How I felt I was sleeping with a stranger.
It’s already a quarter to eight, and the girls will be here soon. They’ll sense something isn’t right – they always do. Karen is like the proverbial bull in a china shop, shooting off at the mouth before her brain tells her otherwise. Lori is the opposite, quiet, nervous, but with the listening skills of an electronic device. But it’s Alice I fear most. She can read me like a book. It’s been the same since we were children. I bite my lip, pulling at my earlobe, the way I always do when I’m nervous.
I’d better put another bottle of white wine in the fridge, just in case – Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio? It’s good to offer variety. What’s wrong with you? Your life is falling apart and all you can concentrate on is the stupid wine.
I tell myself I have no real reason to doubt Edgar. Maybe it’s all in my head. Sometimes I over-think things. Edgar says so all the time.