AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She sighed, shuffled her feet. “Okay, not exactly. I didn’t move fast enough when he was in the zone. Didn’t anticipate, and yeah, anticipation’s part of my job. He yelled, I yelled back. I got a temper, too. He threw the bottle, and okay, so he didn’t actually throw it at me. He just winged it through the window. Then he says how I’m paying for it, and starts hurling insults. I walked out, didn’t go back. Lucia sent me my pay, in full. She keeps things sane around there. As much as possible.”
Eve detoured back to Portography to pigeonhole Lucia.
“I won’t say a bad word about Hastings. I’m sure you’ll find plenty who will. If he’d listened to me he’d have a lawyer and he’d be suing you for false arrest.”
“He hasn’t been arrested.”
“All the same.” She sniffed, then sat at her desk. “The man is a genius, and geniuses don’t have to abide by the same rules as the rest of the world.”
“Would one of those rules include murder?”
“Accusing Hastings of murder is so ridiculous I won’t respond.”
“He threw one of his assistants, bodily, into the elevator. Heaved a bottle at another. Threatened to pitch another out of the window. The list goes on.”
Her red, red lips bowed up. “There were reasons for all of that. Artists, true artists, have temperaments.”
“Okay. Putting Hastings’s genius artist temper aside for the moment, what about security on his files, his records, the image discs?”
She shook her head, fluffed at her white hair. “All but nonexistent. He won’t listen to me, or anyone about it. He can’t remember passcodes and procedure and gets upset when he isn’t able to access an image when he wants it.”
“So anyone can.”
“Well, they have to get up there first.”
“Which narrows that down to models, clients, the revolving assistants, the staff, and employees of the retail end.”
“Cleaning crew.”
“Cleaning crew.”
“Maintenance.” She shrugged. “They’re only allowed in when he’s not. They make him edgy. Occasionally he allows students. They have to pay, and aren’t allowed to speak.”
Eve bit back a sigh. “Do you have a list of the cleaning crew, the maintenance crew, the students.”
“Of course. I have a list of everyone.”
Back at Central, Eve closed herself in her office. She put up a board. She hung the images of the victims, the texts Nadine had received, the lists of people she’d questioned, and had yet to question. Then she sat down, spread out her notes, and let her mind drift.
She’d re-interviewed Jackson Hooper and Diego Feliciano, and this time their stories were almost identical. Didn’t know nor recognize Kenby Sulu, and had been home, alone, on the night in question.
Possible connection between Hooper and Feliciano?
Eve shook her head. She was letting her mind drift too far, she thought, and reined it back.
The killer wanted something from the victims. Their light. Hastings had said he wouldn’t put that light out. Was the killer putting it out, or was he transferring it? Into himself.
For what purpose?
Glory, he wanted glory, acknowledgment, acclaim. But that wasn’t all.
The victims had been chosen for specific reasons. Youth, vitality, innocence. Both had been bright, of mind, of spirit, of face.
Bright lights.
The killer used the data club to transmit. So he frequented the club. He knew how it worked, knew it drew the college crowd.
Was he one of them, or did he want to be?
