by Estelle Ryan
“We can’t do it if we’re too tired to think, Doc.” Manny reached for Francine’s laptop monitor. “Close this down or I’m doing it.”
“Get your grubby hands away from my baby.” Francine slapped at his hand until he withdrew it. She gave him a hateful look and started typing commands. “I need to get the programs to continue running without me monitoring them. It’s going to take a few minutes. Go bother Genevieve.”
“No.” I didn’t want to be bothered.
Colin and Andor laughed and I noticed for the first time how tired both of them looked. Upon closer inspection, I realised everyone showed evidence of fatigue. Manny was right. We would not be as effective in our work if we were exhausted.
Yet a part of me longed to continue my work. I wanted to deepen my analysis of the victims. I was sure there was something else that would connect them. Something else that would lead us to the killer. But when Francine hid a yawn, I carefully gathered my notes. It was time to rest.
Chapter FIFTEEN
“Losers!” Pink’s face lit up with pleasure and he stared straight into the camera. “I told you I’m better than you, Nix. You too, Vinster.”
Vinnie muttered a vicious swearword and pushed his back deeper against the sofa as he continued to move the video game controller thumbsticks. “Don’t get too comfortable in your new level, Pink. I’m coming and I’m pissed off.”
“You boys are both going to weep like little schoolgirls when I’m done.” Nikki’s lips were in a thin line, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration.
It was seven minutes past eleven and no one had gone to bed. We’d arrived at the villa to a delicious, but light dinner. Like me, the others had too much internal energy to settle down to sleep. Colin had been the first to excuse himself from the dinner table. He was sitting next to me on the sofa, working on his laptop. He was looking into the art dealership’s history. Every now and then I saw a painting on his laptop monitor. He would zoom in on the paintings and then open another tab that he’d told me was one of his ways to check an artwork’s provenance.
Manny was slumped in a recliner chair staring at the very large screen television where Vinnie was playing Drestia against Nikki and Pink in Strasbourg. Olivia shared the sofa with Vinnie, settled against the arm, her feet tucked under her. She was reading a mystery novel on her e-reader. She’d started telling me the storyline, but had giggled and told me that fiction was just that when I’d asked a sixth question about the probability of the plot. Roxy was in the bathtub. She’d taken a glass of red wine with her and had declared the need for tub time.
Francine had set up a workstation on the dining room table. She’d confiscated Manny’s laptop as well as mine. I had argued hard against her using my device, but she’d rightly countered that finding the IP location of the killer was important. More important than my desire to find out more about the victims. She hadn’t been interested in Colin’s laptop because his had a slower operating system. I’d relented only after I’d candidly expressed my displeasure at the situation.
She’d winked at me, blown me a kiss and walked away with my laptop. So here I was. Sitting next to Colin on one of the three comfortable sofas, watching Vinnie, Pink and Nikki playing an online game. They’d been at it for two hours and appeared to be two-thirds through the levels.
My initial interest had been to observe Nikki, not the game. Pink had been delighted when Vinnie had Skyped him and told him to get his lazy butt in front of the television. They’d then set up videos and computers so that Pink and Nikki could see Vinnie and vice versa.
Vinnie and Pink had had to wait half an hour for Nikki while she was putting Eric to sleep. She had the baby monitor Francine had bought next to her on the sofa and glanced at it frequently, even though it had been quiet the entire time. It was a top-of-the-range monitor—one that even Vinnie hadn’t known about. He’d inspected it, then had called Pink to hear his opinion. Only then had he approved of Francine’s gift, which, of course, had then ended in another one of their inane arguments.
Nikki had accepted the gift and used it all the time. I was relieved to see that she was completely relaxed and having fun playing against Vinnie and Pink. The only tension I saw was her concentration as she worked the controller. I’d closely observed her for most of the first level of the game. Then the clues and battles to the next level of Drestia caught my attention.
It was a truly smart multiplayer game. Vinnie’s avatar was an old man who looked very much like Colin’s disguise when he pretended to be an eighty-year-old poet. Nikki’s avatar was a woman who resembled Francine. The animated figure had long dark hair and a lithe body and was dressed in designer outfits. Pink’s avatar was a short teenage girl with spiky pink hair and thick black-rimmed glasses. She was dressed completely in black. Even her nails were painted black.
I was fascinated by the care everyone took when they’d created their avatars. There had to have been studies about the psychology behind the decisions people made when choosing how they would be represented in this online world. I made a note to look it up once we returned to Strasbourg and I settled into my usual routine.
“I got it!” Nikki wiggled in her seat, but didn’t take her hands off the controller or her eyes off the television monitor. “Eat my dust, you Y-chromosome losers.”
Vinnie chuckled and shook his head. “We can’t let her get away with this, dude.”
“We’re not.” Pink’s pink-haired girl turned the handle on one of the castle’s interior doors. The wall disintegrated, revealing a new room. “We’re taking a shortcut.”
“Huh.” Vinnie’s old man followed the young girl into the room. It was decorated in an eighteenth-century style. I didn’t have the same expertise as Colin when it came to art and historical correctness, but the décor appeared to be true to that period. Including the masterpieces on the walls. I recognised a Turner landscape and two portraits by William Blake and Goya respectively. I was impressed.
“Find the key, Vin.” Pink’s girl ran to a large wooden wardrobe and stopped in front of the door, staring at the lock. “We need to get in there.”
“Hey, dude.” Vinnie stretched and kicked Colin’s feet. “We need you here.”
“Yeah.” Pink looked to the side for a moment. I assumed he was looking at the computer monitor streaming the video that showed our living room. “We could do with your expertise, Colin.”
“Busy.” Colin waved absentmindedly with one hand, then returned to working on his laptop.
“You’re going to need more than the unbeatable Master Colin to catch up to me today.” Nikki leaned forward on the sofa, her brow furrowed in concentration. “I’m destroying it over here.”
“The key, Vin! Look for it on your side. I’m going to the left.” Pink’s girl turned to her left and walked to the elegant writing table in front of the window. Another thing that amazed me was the quality of the graphics in these games. The avatars’ movements were smooth, almost human-like. The detail worked into each room was equally impressive. The view from the window showed extensive grounds, manicured lawns that led to a high wall surrounding the castle.
I looked from the beautiful summer garden back into the room and frowned. Vinnie’s old man was opening, then closing all the drawers in a chest. What had caught my eye was the bouquet of white roses in a round red vase. Unlike most of the vases from that era, this one didn’t have any detailed painting on it. But the design on it sent a rush of adrenaline through my body. “Lift the red vase.”
“Huh?” Vinnie glanced at me, then shrugged and got his old man to lift the red porcelain vase.
The wardrobe doors swung open to reveal an entrance into a room. Vinnie’s avatar reached the wardrobe first, but was immediately followed by the pink-haired girl. This room had no windows, yet it was remarkably light inside. The dark red, blue and green striped wallpaper should’ve made the room even gloomier, yet all the furniture and decorations were clearly visible.
Including the only
painting on the opposite wall.
“It’s the Netscher.” Olivia shook her index finger at the television screen, her voice breathless. Her frontalis muscles lifted her eyebrows high on her forehead, her mouth slightly agape. “What’s Nathan’s painting doing in this game?”
“Shit.” Colin put his laptop down and leaned forward, staring at the screen. “It’s an exact copy.”
“What the hell?” Manny straightened, his expression fierce.
In an ornate frame and illuminated as if spotlights shone on it, Caspar Netscher’s A Woman Feeding a Parrot hung on the wall. This was the painting that had brought Olivia to Hungary and had been the catalyst for this investigation into a serial killer.
It was beautiful. A young woman wearing a gold-coloured dress was feeding an African Grey parrot sitting on her hand. She was glancing straight at the viewer. Her expression and body language was made to be flirtatious. I could now see what Colin meant when he’d said Netscher had been a master as a portraitist.
“What the fuck is happening?” Vinnie’s fingers tightened around the controller, but he didn’t move his old man.
“Colin?” Pink moved closer to the screen, which moved him closer to the camera.
“I don’t know what this means.” Colin pushed his hands through his hair.
“Doc?” Manny looked at me. “Does this game have anything to do with...”
His question was interrupted by the ringtone of his smartphone. With a grunt he removed the phone from his trouser pocket and answered. Another rush of adrenaline entered my system. After his initial greeting, Manny didn’t say anything, yet I recognised his expression. I immediately thought of the effect this news was going to have on Colin.
Manny ended the call and sighed heavily. “We have another dead body. Garas is at the victim’s house. We’d better get there immediately.” He turned towards the dining room. “Francine!”
“Yes, master?”
Manny’s lips thinned. “Get in here!”
Francine walked into the room a few seconds later. She was wearing light blue pants and a gauzy top over a white sleeveless t-shirt and sandals. It looked as if she’d just had her morning shower. Her playful expression changed the moment she registered our nonverbal cues. “What’s happening?”
Manny shook his index finger at the television. “Is that bloody thing hacked? Is this house hacked?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Francine put both hands on her hips and raised one eyebrow. “Want to tell me I’m not good at my job?”
Colin got up and stood between Manny and Francine. “There’s something about this game that might connect to the case. Millard is as usual being an arse, but the question is real. Are you very sure no one was able to sneak past your security?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation, no doubt. “When we took out that game the first time, I ran my three best antivirus programs on it. Our internet, our computers and that game are not hacked. But I will double-check. Again.”
“Do that later.” Manny moved towards the front door. “Get your things. We’re going to another crime scene.”
“Yoohoo!” Nikki was waving both arms. “What’s happening, guys? Are you safe?”
When we’d first connected to Nikki and Pink, she’d told us that she knew we were working a case. I hadn’t responded, but she’d pointed at the camera and boasted that she could read Vinnie and Colin’s body language and that it had confirmed her suspicions. Then she’d rolled her eyes and muttered what bad liars everyone was.
“We’re safe, punk.” Vinnie put his controller on the sofa next to him and got up. “But we’ve got to get to work. Sleep tight, little punk.”
She snorted. “No way I’m sleeping now. I’ll wait until you check in with me.”
“Pink.” Francine walked into the camera’s range and faced the monitor showing Pink and Nikki. “I’m going to connect you to my system here. Double-check my findings, would ya?”
“Sure thing. Anything you want me to look for?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Just make sure that I’m right.”
“Yes, my queen.”
She laughed and blew him a kiss. Then walked over and kissed Manny full on the mouth when he scowled at her exchange with Pink. “Come on, grumpy. Let’s go and catch this bloody serial killer.”
“I don’t talk like that.” He wasn’t quick enough to hide the slight lifting of the corner of his mouth at Francine’s attempt to copy his British accent.
“No, you make it sound much sexier.”
Manny took his hand off her back and walked to the front door. “I’ll be in the car. We’re leaving in five minutes. Doc, you’d better get your butt over here too.”
“I’ll tell Roxy and help where I can.” Olivia got up and walked with us to the front door. “Please be careful.”
It took us twenty minutes from the villa to reach the victim’s house. The neighbourhood was quiet just before midnight. This suburb was on the northern border of Budapest, the houses large and the cars parked in the driveways expensive.
We stopped in front of a white three-story house with a sloping green roof, a large veranda overlooking the front garden and spacious balconies on each floor. Vinnie drove the SUV into the property and stopped next to Andor’s old sedan. Andor was waiting for us.
He spoke as soon as we opened the doors. “Sorry to get you guys out here so late, but I thought it best if you saw it as soon as possible.”
“You did the right thing.” Colin waited for me to get out and walked to Andor. “Whose house is this?”
“The victim’s.” Andor nodded at Vinnie, Manny and Francine when they joined us. “Tibor Bokros is... was the Minister of Human Resources. He’s only been in that position for the last eighteen months. Before that he was the chairman of the Committee on Budget, Finance and Audit Office. Before that he was in some committee overseeing the registration of national and international businesses.”
I liked that Andor was giving information that we could use to better form a history of the killer. I wondered where this victim would fit in the timeline of the killer’s experiences. What this victim had done to the killer to have warranted the ultimate revenge.
“Who found him?” Manny followed Andor up the three steps to the veranda.
“His personal assistant.” Andor opened the front door and entered after Manny. “The minister was supposed to attend an important function tonight. When he didn’t arrive and didn’t answer any of his phones, his assistant came here.”
“I’m the assistant.” A woman was standing in a doorway leading from the entrance. She was wearing an evening dress, her hair elegantly styled. Her professional makeup didn’t hide the lack of colour in her face, her mascara lightly smeared under her eyes. “I have a key to his house. I came in and found him on the floor in his room.”
“His bedroom?” Manny asked.
“No.” She looked up and left. “I think the Americans call it a den? Or is it a man-cave?”
“Ah.” Colin turned to me. “Got it?”
I nodded. I’d argued with Vinnie about the terminology once. I maintained that it was ridiculous.
“Does he have a television in that room?” Francine lifted her tablet.
“Let’s just go there.” Andor walked to the third door leading from the entrance. We walked through a formal sitting room. There was something incomplete in this room, as if the element that was supposed to bind the décor together was missing. I’d seen this before in the homes of people with newly acquired riches. They would hire professional decorators, but would not fully take their advice. In their ambition to appear as if they’d come from old money, they would insist on adding or eliminating certain suggestions. The result would be the room we were about to exit.
The next room we entered had a completely different atmosphere. It reminded me of the previous victim Antal Udvaros’ living room. This was even more welcoming, less elegant. A bulky sectional s
ofa faced a large screen television mounted on the wall. The difference between this and the previous crime scene was that this wall was filled with photos. I stepped closer, then froze.
A man wearing a crime scene protective suit was on his knees next to the prone body of who I supposed was Minister Tibor Bokros. When the kneeling man noticed us, he got up and spoke to Manny in Hungarian. Andor interrupted him midsentence with a question. He shook his head, then continued to address Andor. While they were talking, I turned my attention back to the minister.
He was lying in an awkward position. It looked like he had tried to get up, then had hit his head on the coffee table when he’d fallen forward. He had landed half on his side, half on his stomach. It looked like he had clutched his chest when he’d gone down. I wondered if the man talking to Andor was a doctor and if his preliminary findings would include a heart attack.
Colin was standing next to the sofa, grief pulling the corners of his mouth down.
“Stop being a ninny, Frey.”
Colin’s head jerked up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Manny pushed his hands in his trouser pockets, his shoulders slumping forward. “I can see on your ninny face that you’re feeling responsible. There was no way you could’ve predicted that this person was going to be the killer’s next target. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“My God, Millard. You are an unbelievable bastard.”
“I know.”
“Thank you.” Colin’s words were quietly spoken, his expression grateful. I had been correct in expecting Colin to be particularly affected by this murder. He’d been the one to see the pattern in the dates of the murders. Yet he’d also been the one to acknowledge that it was impossible to foresee whether someone else was going to be murdered on the very next birthday of a Romanian artist.
“It was still streaming when we got here.” Francine walked into the room, looked at the dead body, shivered and walked to the television. She didn’t notice the tension between Colin and Manny. “I’ve blocked all data flow from this IP address, so the killer doesn’t know that we’re here and what we’re doing.”
