Jonathan Kellerman - Survival Of The Fittest

“A brush,” said Milo.

“Painting with a child's blood,” said Sharavi, looking at me. “Maybe he sees himself as an artist.”

Milo cursed silently.

“One thing that interests me,” said Sharavi, “is the fact that the writing was done first and then the blood was added. So even back then, when, as Dr. Delaware has pointed out, he was still impulsive, those letters- leaving a message- meant something to him and he planned carefully. He's always had a definite agenda.”

“What else interests you?” said Milo.

“Just the elements that you're aware of. The variability in methods and body positioning, the geographic scatter, two girls, one boy. The lack of pattern to throw us off, but despite that, a pattern, as Dr. Delaware has suggested. Retardation's obviously an issue, so maybe DVLL has something to do with that, or handicaps in general- D for defective. Defective devils, something like that.”

He took out his bad hand and looked at it. “Until the match between Irit and the Shaver girl came up, I was skeptical about Dr. Delaware's theory of linkage. Even now, there's a disconnected feeling to these killings.”

“Disconnected, how?” I said.

“I don't know.” The smooth face tightened and lines showed around the eyes. “Not that my opinion means much. I have only dealt with one serial killer. In Israel that makes me an expert. Here…” He shrugged.

“How'd you get the shoe?” said Milo.

“I didn't get it, I got to it. Please don't ask more.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can't tell you.”

“Open communication, huh?”

“From now on. The shoes are in the past. With three killings on your hands, maybe more, why bother?”

“More?”

“At this level of subtlety,” said Sharavi, “there could be DVLL messages never detected. Don't you think?”

Milo didn't answer.

“I understand your not trusting me,” said the dark man. “In your position I'd feel the same way-”

“Cool it with the empathy, Superintendent. That's Dr. Delaware's territory.”

Sharavi sighed. “All right. Would you like me to remove the bugs tonight or tomorrow?”

“Where are they?”

“All in Dr. Delaware's home.”

“Where else?”

“Just there.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“No reason,” said Sharavi, “except I have no interest in lying to you. Check for yourself. I'll provide debugging equipment.”

Milo waved him off. “How many bugs are there in Dr. Delaware's home?”

“Four. In the phone receiver, under the living room couch, under the dining table, and the kitchen table.”

“That's it?”

“Hook me up to a polygraph if it'll make you feel better.”

“Polygraphs can be fooled.”

“Sure,” said Sharavi, “by psychopaths with abnormally low levels of arousal. I'm not a psychopath. I sweat.”

“Do you?”

“All the time. Now, shall I disconnect the bugs or do you want to do it yourself? Nothing complicated. Four little black discs that pop right off.”

“Where's the feed?”

“A phone at my place.”

“What else do you have there?”

“A police scanner, various equip-”

“A scanner with tactical lines?”

Sharavi nodded.

“What else?”

“The usual. A fax machine, computers.”

“You're hooked into all the police data banks,” I said. “DMV, NCIC.”

“Yes.”

“State offender files, too?”

“Yes.” He turned to Milo. “I'm aware of all the work you've done looking into alibis-”

“Who else are you working with besides Ms. English-as-a-Second-Language?”

“I'm working completely alone. Irina is employed by the consulate.”

“Big shot's daughter gets killed and they send just one guy?”

“I'm all they have,” said Sharavi. “For this kind of thing.”

“Just how big is Carmeli?”

“He's considered… very talented.”

“What kind of case was this Butcher?”

“Sexual psychopath, organized, a careful planner. He murdered Arab women- runaways and prostitutes at first, then he progressed to less-marginal victims- a woman who'd just left her husband and was socially vulnerable. He gained their trust, anesthetized them, then dissected them and dumped their bodies in hilly areas around Jerusalem, sometimes accompanied by pages from the Bible.”

“Another case with messages,” I said. “What was his?”

“We never had a chance to interview him but we suspect he had some kind of racist agenda, possibly trying to cause a race war between Arabs and Jews. The FBI was informed fully. If you'd like, I'll get you copies of the VICAP case file.”

“You never had a chance to interview him,” said Milo. “Meaning he's dead.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I killed him.” The golden eyes blinked. “Self-defense.”

Milo looked down at the damaged hand.

Sharavi raised his arm and the limp flesh bobbed. “He doesn't get all the credit for this. I was partially disabled in the Six-Day War. He destroyed what function was left. I would have preferred capturing him alive in order to learn from him. But…” Another blink. “After it was over, I read all I could about people like him. There wasn't much, the FBI was just getting the VICAP program started. Now, they offer profiles but Dr. Delaware's point about profiles relying upon the past is well-taken. What's to stop some clever boy from doing his reading, too, and using it against us?”

“Us?” said Milo.

“Policemen. There is a certain… contrived feeling to these killings, don't you think?”

“Self-defense,” said Milo. “So now you've been brought over to “defend' yourself against our guy.”

“No,” said Sharavi. “I'm not a hired assassin. I'm here to investigate Irit Carmeli's death because Consul Carmeli thought I could be of use.”

“And Consul Carmeli gets what he wants.”

“Sometimes.”

“He said you were in the States. Where?”

“New York.”

“Doing what?”

“Security work at the embassy.”

“Self-defense work?”

“Security work.”

“You speak excellent English,” I said.

“My wife is American.”

“Is she here with you?” said Milo.

Sharavi gave a low, soft laugh. “No.”

“Where's she from?”

“L.A.”

“Lots of L.A. connections,” said Milo.

“Another point in my favor. Shall I disconnect the bugs?”

“Ever been tapped yourself?”

“Probably.”

“You don't mind?”

“No one likes the loss of privacy,” said Sharavi.

“You guys are big on that, aren't you? Gadgetry, top security, high tech. But all the Mossad crap didn't help your prime minister, did it?”

“No,” said Sharavi. “It didn't.”

“That was an interesting one,” said Milo. “I'm no conspiracy buff, but it made me wonder: The guy shoots Rabin in the back, from two feet away. Next day there's video footage on TV showing him heckling Rabin at a bunch of rallies, frothing at the mouth, having to be carried away. And within hours of the assassination all his confederates are rounded up. So he was well known to the authorities, but the security guards let him get right next to the target.”

“Interesting, isn't it?” said Sharavi. “What's your theory?”

“Someone didn't like the boss.”

“There are people who agree with you. Another theory is that even experienced security people couldn't imagine a Jewish assassin. Yet another is that the original plan was to use blanks, make a public statement, and the assassin changed his mind at the last minute. In any case, it's a national disgrace. And it's caused me additional pain because the assassin was of Yemenite descent and so am I- shall I disconnect now or later? Or would you care to do it yourself?”