Chasing Tomorrow

“Murder.”

The playful smile on Gunther’s lips disappeared.

“Twelve murders, to be more precise.”

Jean Rizzo filled Gunther Hartog in on the Bible Killer’s victims, and the link he’d discovered between the murders and the string of robberies. He explained how he’d tracked Tracy down, suspecting that she might be the missing link that would lead him to the killer. Tracy had helped him to find Elizabeth Kennedy, but that was where the trail had gone cold.

At the mention of Elizabeth’s name, the old man became quite animated.

“Vile woman. So she’s still working, is she? I suppose I’m not surprised, although I’d rather hoped she might be rotting in a Peruvian jail by now.”

“You’re not a fan?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Inspector. She’s a class act, very good at what she does. But she’s typical of the younger generation.”

“In what way?”

“She’s heartless and greedy. Utterly devoid of principles, never mind romance.”

“Romance?” Jean frowned.

“Oh yes!” Gunther cried. “There was terrific romance to our business in the old days, Inspector. Tracy and Jeff weren’t thieves, they were artists. Each job was a performance, a perfectly choreographed ballet, if you will.”

Jean thought, It’s a game to him. To all of them. But no one told Sandra Whitmore or Alissa Armand or any of the other girls the rules. Somehow they got caught up in the dance and paid for it with their lives. There was no romance in their lives, or their deaths, God help them.

Gunther was still talking. “Tracy and Jeff only ever took from the undeserving. They weren’t in the business of mugging old ladies. Not like Miss Kennedy. Money’s the only thing that motivates her and she’ll stop at nothing to acquire it. She destroyed Jeff and Tracy’s marriage, you know. From what I could learn at the time, she was paid to do it. Someone with a grudge against one or both of them hired Elizabeth to wreck things. Can you imagine such a thing? In my day such behavior was considered beyond the pale.”

He slumped back on the chaise longue, exhausted by the effort of such a long diatribe.

Once Gunther had caught his breath, Jean asked, “Did you ever hear about Elizabeth working with a partner? A man?”

“Years ago, yes. But I haven’t exactly followed the young lady’s career. Why?”

Jean shrugged. “The Bible Killer’s male. I’m looking for a man connected to Elizabeth Kennedy or Tracy Whitney. Or both. Of course, there is one person who fits that description perfectly.”

Gunther frowned.

“You don’t mean Jeff?”

“Jeff Stevens was intimate with both women. He’s also still active, traveling all over the world looting antiquities.”

“Whatever else Jeff’s doing, it isn’t looting,” Gunther protested.

“The point is he’s out there, using a string of aliases. He could have been in any of the cities in question at the right time.”

Gunther shook his head. “Jeff had nothing to do with this. I’d bet my life on it.”

“According to his FBI file, he regularly uses prostitutes. Did you know that?”

“No,” Gunther said truthfully. “I didn’t. What I do know is that Jeff wouldn’t hurt a fly, still less a woman.”

“People change,” said Jean. “Maybe the split with Tracy pushed him over the edge. He could have had some sort of psychotic break. It happens.” He added, seeing Gunther’s skeptical expression, “When did you last see Jeff Stevens?”

“Some time ago,” Gunther said carefully. “I don’t remember exactly.”

“Months? Years?” Jean prompted.

“Years. Unfortunately.”