Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Yes, I’d agree. What do you know about Grange?”

“Peabody’s digging into that now.”

Mira nodded, sipped her tea. “To kill the innocent in order to strike at the ones he’s determined are guilty. He wants them to suffer, to mourn and grieve and live with great loss. He may perceive they caused him to suffer, grieve, and live with loss. There may be a personal as well as professional tie with Grange, or someone else who was pushed out—student or staff—during that timeline.”

“And if that timeline’s right, he’s had about eight years to stew over it, to plan it, to create or access the agent.”

“It’s not impulse,” Mira agreed, “but calculated. Highly organized and intelligent, and at the same time dispassionate. The kill is dispassionate,” Mira corrected. “A painful death, yes, but quick—and calculated so no one else is harmed. That element must have taken extra time, more work, so it matters that only the person addressed is killed.”

“He knows when to send the package,” Eve added, “so it arrives when the target’s alone. Or is scheduled to be alone.”

“Again, a calculated risk.” Considering that, Mira tapped a finger on the side of her pretty teacup. “Accidents happen in shipping, mistakes are made, plans change. But it’s a carefully calculated risk, and what would he lose if something happened, someone else opened the package, or it was damaged? Nothing really.

“He has knowledge and skill,” she went on. “He’s certainly worked with toxic chemicals.”

“Or is working with someone who has.”

Mira angled her head. “Yes, very possible. He or they must have a lab where he can create the agent. He’s loved,” Mira added. “Or believes he’s loved. Whether or not he’s experienced it himself, he understands the pain of loss. He uses it.”

“He may have lost a spouse?”

“Possibly, or a child, or a parent, someone he loved or believes he loved. Even the removal of the person he loved—a breakup, moving away. But I see him as an observer. Someone who watches, documents—scientifically—more than participates. Again, if your timeline is correct, he’s patient. He knows good work and positive results take time. Or she, of course. Poison’s often a female weapon. Most of us, present company definitely excepted, lack the physical strength and skill to confront an opponent physically.”

“He—or she—is also a coward.”

“Yes.” Mira offered the smallest smile. “Not only because you’d find them so, but in none of the statements is there any mention of any sort of physical confrontation or argument. No threats, no rivals or enemies. This rage, however cold, has been bottled up, hidden, and hidden well. When you find him, those who know him will be shocked.”

“Yeah, the typical, he seemed like a nice, normal guy.”

“And a fastidious one, that will factor in. The way he packed the shipment, so carefully. The strapping tape perfectly straight. You’ll find his residence, his work area immaculate.”

Now Mira sat back, recrossed her legs. “I’d pondered over the egg—until you found the connection.”

“Gold egg, Gold Academy. That didn’t just happen. It’s a message.”

“Yes, a reference back to what lit the very long fuse. And there’s killing the goose that laid the golden egg, you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs, all that glitters isn’t gold, and so on. It’s a cheap trinket, like the box—but he painted the interior painstakingly, added the sealant.”

“Both the box and the egg were dirt cheap, and available from half a million places online. We’ll never trace them, but we will track them back to him once we have him.”

“It’s the economy of it. He didn’t want to waste money on them. The chemicals had to have cost considerable, and the equipment unless he’s able to access it from a workplace.”

“Nothing we’ve found so far, but there are thousands of medical and research and educational labs in New York and New Jersey.”

Sipping tea, Mira considered. “The economy tells me he values money, respects it. He spent it where necessary.”

“But he sends them a cheap trinket because why waste good money.”

“Very good,” Mira said approvingly. “He lives alone. If he’s working on the agent in his workplace, he has some autonomy. If he’s working at home, he’d want privacy. He’s driven, Eve. There’s no time or room in his life for real relationships. He’s not one to confront or debate directly, but to retreat where he can work toward his revenge. He may have done so many times before, in less lethal ways. Undermining a colleague or rival while carefully staying out of the fray.”

“And observing, documenting. Keeping an account.”

“Yes. He’ll have everything documented. He’s a scientist, whether by trade or inclination. Everything he’s done and will do, all the data he’s accumulated on his targets and his victims—as they are separate things—will be documented.”

“So far his targets and victims have families. Grown children with children in the first hit, younger children in the second.”

“It may be satisfying for him to shatter a family. If he had one, he no longer does. Why should they have one, intact and happy? Somewhere, at some time, in some way, they caused him grief. And now he gives them grief.”

“Back to the school. Rufty first—he was in charge, he made the changes.” Eve checked the time. “My interview with him’s coming up.”