“Okay, it’s target specific. You can’t discount that bullshit dog emergency that had the person sitting beside her leaving the theater for several minutes. The timing of that, the fact the killer sat right behind her, which indicates he either followed her there or knew she’d be there. That’s no random stab in the dark. Literally.”
He nodded as he ate. “And again, but?”
“There had to be countless, less risky ways to kill her. She’s a night creature, right? Either coming out of the theater after a performance at night, or from the restaurant. Walking home from the restaurant after shift, from the theater after a show. Grab her, stab her, and book it. But this was dramatic, right? And really risky. And it depended on everything falling into place.”
“Which it seems to have done.”
“Yeah.” She stabbed at another meatball. “But. What if somebody decides to sit beside the killer? What if the friend decides to ignore the call, even for a few minutes? What if somebody else walks out at the same time as the killer? If you’re going to plan as well as he or she did, those are risks that have to be weighed in. So why go to all that trouble, take all that time to find that moment, when there are easier ways?”
“The killer enjoys or craves the risk and the drama?”
“Maybe, yeah, and I’ve got to tug on that. And maybe the method, the precision of it, the moment of it, were all as specific as the victim. Maybe, shit, maybe they had sex during that scene sometime in the past. And it meant more to him or her than it did to the victim. Maybe he’d seen her in that theater before, and something she said, did, the way she looked triggered something.”
“How long before the showing are the layout of vids announced?”
Sitting back for a moment, she picked up her wine, lifted the glass toward him. “That’s a good question, Mister Civilian. Three months. They set the classic vids up three months ahead, advertise them in-theater and online. And before you ask, the victim and her friend had a routine, and going to that vid, on that night fell right into it. Plus both of them blasted it on their social media feeds. ‘Going to Psycho with my bestie.’ ‘Girls’ night at the Bates Motel.’ I’ll never understand why people do that stupid shit, but they do.”
Eve paused, ate a little more. “She’s coming across as a decent human being, one who enjoyed her life, her work, had a nice circle of casual friends—and that bestie. He ended that, and so far, while the method says she was a target, nothing’s popping to show why.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m not sure there’s much at this stage with this one.”
“Throw me a bone.”
She sat back with her wine again, studied him as she sipped. “You could just go back to your book.”
“Or?”
On a half laugh she sipped again. “Okay, or. You could run the background on the ex, check any travel over the last couple days. Eliminate him or nudge him onto the list. Damien Forsythe, currently living and working in the Calgary area of Canada. He’s a regular on some series. The Enduring.”
“That’s simple enough. What’s on your agenda?”
“A deeper look into the vic. So far she’s not telling me much. Some basic checking on her friend, the pet clinic and staff, a few runs on staff at the restaurant, and the play, the other contenders, she was auditioning for.”
“That’s quite a bit.”
“Mostly just routine.”
“Well then, I’ll see to my assignment.” Rising, he looked back at the board. “Sometimes there’s just no logical reason.”
“But there’s always a reason.”
3
With a pot of black coffee, Eve settled into the work. Routine, yes, and some of it tedious. But routine mattered, demanded structure and direction, and tedium could lead to rewards.
Not so much this time, she thought as she worked her way through the life of Chanel Rylan.
Nothing stood out, nothing rang a bell. Other than a handful of traffic violations, including a minor accident, no injuries, prior to moving to New York, she had no bumps.
Slightly above average student—with stellar marks in drama, theater, dance, music. Starring roles in school plays, some community theater.
No medical issues that showed up on a standard run. No pregnancies, no rehab.
Financially, Eve mused, she’d done okay, and obviously wasn’t in it for the dough. Her outlay for clothes, rent, the voice, acting, and dancing lessons she continued ate up most of her income.
Eve shifted to Lola Kawaski.