“Nietzsche,” Doyle answered.
Larkin glanced up, happy that he was not surprised. “Yes.”
“Meanwhile, we keep looking at these ‘aversions to life’ because why?” Doyle emphasized by lightly shaking the film strip in his hands.
“We’ve become anesthetized to grotesque imagery.”
“So we keep upping the ante?”
Larkin considered, then nodded. “Yes, exactly.”
Doyle raised a thick eyebrow and asked with a sort of wry expression, “Then you consider a mourning portrait to be the artist’s ultimate act against man? Or could it be paradoxical in that an artist finds satisfaction in the misfortune inherent in such photosbecauseof the sense of peace they bring?”
Larkin frowned and lowered the magnifying glass. “Huh.”
Doyle smiled.
Larkin checked his watch and said, “You’re not to be trusted with philosophical conversations at 7:24 a.m.”
Looking rather pleased, Doyle thrust his chin toward the film strip and asked, “What do you see?”
“Much of what we expected, per Ms. Flouride’s testimony. We know, of course, the original artist—pseudonym, Archie Bunker—did not take these, and that Mr. Reynold has attempted to replicate the subject matter that arouses him by cutting corners. Namely, he did not commit murder. So while she’s not dead in these pictures, he does have her posed oddly.” Larkin shifted again to study the images farther along the strip. “Sitting on the floor with her legs splayed out and leaning back against the wall. There’s a… broken doll quality to her positioning.”
“Look dead,” Doyle said without a flicker of the amusement he’d shown a moment before. “Hell of a stage direction.”
“What Mr. Reynold did not replicate were any of the poses or tokens seen in the seven other portraits we’ve obtained. No clasped hands, no shoes, no flowers or leaves. Archie has very particular knowledge of postmortem photography and utilizes it in such a way that it’s… natural.”
“Overlooked in replication?” Doyle suggested.
“Yes. It’s so subtle that I don’t believe Mr. Reynold was aware of it as an element in the previous photographs he purchased.” Larkin lowered the magnifying glass and stared at Doyle. “What does that tell us.”
“Archie incorporates those details for himself, not his buyers,” Doyle replied. He brought the film strip down, turned, and clipped it to a hanging rack to dry. “Where he learned the specifics of a relatively obscure and misunderstood moment within the history of Western photography could prove a vital clue in discovering his true identity.”
Larkin put a hand to his own chest. “Tell me where I would learn about this.”
“A misleading article written by a content creator at Buzzfeed?”
“Going right for the jugular, I see.”
“Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with you.”
“Hardly. You give off a sort of wallflower-meets-slacker vibe to strangers, which leads to incorrect assumptions being made regarding both your intelligence and professional qualifications. But since I’ve known you, you meet that speculation head-on with quiet but fierce jabs. My presence is irrelevant.”
“A wallflower meets slacker?” Doyle repeated. “What am I, two-fifths ofThe Breakfast Club?”
Larkin’s mouth twitched, but he kept his expression a careful neutral and replied, “I rest my case.”
Doyle rolled his eyes.
Larkin asked, “Where would I learn about postmortem photography practices before the advent of digital media empires.”
Doyle was thoughtful, taking a moment to clean the counter of his developing process. “Societies, libraries, college courses, museums or historic homes….”
Larkin shook his head absently. “That’s still too many possibilities for narrowing down the most likely avenue of investigation. Pinning Archie’s identity is what’s going to lead to catching Marco’s killer. It’ll solve the current John Doe in the IKEA bag as well. I’m certain of that.” Larkin pushed his suit coat back and set his hands on his hips. “The problem is, I have too much information that means nothing, in the grand scheme of two unknown identities.”
“What would happen if the DB in the bag was identified first?” Doyle countered. “Would your thought process work in reverse?”
“In theory, I suppose it would.”
