The Movie-Town Murders (The Art of Murder 5)

Sam’s expression grew bleak. “Ethan’s not alive.”

“Are you one hundred percent sure the body you identified as Ethan was Ethan?”

“As sure as I could be, given the state of the remains.”

“For the sake of argument, what if he was alive?”

Sam shook his head.

Which was not the most reassuring response. Did that mean so what? Or you’re out of your tiny mind? Jason was silent, watching Sam work through it.

Sam said suddenly, as if it had only occurred to him, “Are you— Do you think Ethan turning up alive would have anything to do with you and me?”

“How could it not?”

Sam’s expression was so… In fact, Jason couldn’t make sense of that expression.

Sam said crisply, “First of all, if Ethan was alive and let me go on thinking he was dead all these years, let his father think he was dead all these years, he was never the person I thought he was. Secondly, Ethan and I were… I don’t know we’d still be together. That was decades ago. We were practically kids. We didn’t have a hell of a lot in common then. What would we have in common now? We’d be strangers.”

“It doesn’t mean you wouldn’t—”

Sam cut right through that. “Thirdly, I loved Ethan. Yes. But what I felt for Ethan was—it isn’t comparable to what I feel for you. Do you still not understand that?”

The answer was right there in Sam’s eyes, and so was Sam’s exasperation. The funny thing was, the more reassuring emotion was the exasperation.

“Yes. I do. But you can’t deny there would be, I don’t know, unfinished business?”

“Some business finishes by default whether through time or circumstance. In this case, we have both time and the circumstance of you.”

“I appreciate that, and I’m not pushing for—I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say. It’s just that this is the guy whose death changed the direction of your life. Obviously, you have to have some feeling about—”

Sam said wearily, “And you’re the guy whose life is changing the direction of my life.” He put his mostly untouched milky drink on the nightstand. “We should sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be another busy day.” He pulled the chain on the blue-green Tiffany lamp by the bed, plunging the room into hazy moonlit gloom.

Sam hiked his shoulders more comfortably against the pillows and sighed.

That weight-of-the-world sigh got to Jason. He shifted, put a protective arm around Sam. Sam responded, wrapping his arm around Jason. They settled against each other and made peace with small, soft kisses.

“No. Not child pornography.” Sam was definite.

Jason argued, “How can you be so sure?”

They were on their way out the door early Saturday morning, laptop cases slung over their shoulders, travel coffee cups in one hand, car keys in the other.

Sam gave him a look of disbelief. “This is what I do, remember?”

“Right, but—”

“I’m drawing conclusions based on what you’ve told me. The personalities you’ve described. The scenario you’ve detailed. You’re not dealing with pedophiles. This is not a child pornography ring.”

Jason locked the side door to the bungalow and joined Sam on the brick walkway. “But films are part of it. Watching films for sure. Probably distribution.”

“Snuff,” Sam said succinctly.

Jason stared.

Sam was bleak and brisk as a December churchyard. “Given what we already know of Shepherd Durrand? I don’t think there’s any question. You’re dealing with snuff films. A snuff film ring. Something small and exclusive. Not another Wonderland Club. The victims will not be children. And this is not happening over the internet. This will occur in real time, up close and personal. These are people with a lot to lose. They will be very cautious in who they permit into their inner circle. They will lawyer up immediately.”

As rare as snuff “art” films were, snuff film distribution rings were even rarer—though there had been a couple of highly publicized international busts in 1998 and 2000. However, as Sam pointed out, given what they knew about Shepherd Durrand and his extracurricular activities, masterminding a snuff film ring was easily within his wheelhouse. In fact, it was the most likely explanation for Ono’s ever-changing charges against Eli Humphrey with LAPD, as well as Alex’s suspicion that there was another tier of membership at the cinephile club.

It also confirmed Jason’s instinctive unease on meeting Eli Humphrey. Nice to know his creepy factor receptors were in working order.

Sam interrupted Jason’s thoughts. “Phone Jonnie and bring her up to speed on Durrand. This is one of the missing pieces in our case.”

“Will do.” He was more amused than offended at Sam throwing orders at him like he was his PA. He got it. This was a big development in the BAU’s investigation into Shepherd Durrand. It was possibly a major break in Jason’s investigation as well. If Ono had somehow discovered this particular interest of Humphrey’s—and Humphrey knew it—it gave him a strong motive for wanting her out of the way.

Granted, nothing much seemed to have come from Ono’s concerns, partly because she’d backtracked after approaching the police. Per Hick, she’d started out with a complaint regarding unspecified illegal materials, which eventually turned into pirating copyrighted materials.

In fact, Jason needed to talk to Hick as well as Jonnie. But busting a snuff film ring was not going to fall to the FBI’s Art Crime Team or LAPD’s Art Theft Detail. This one belonged to Violent Crimes. Jason and Hick would play their roles, but they would not be the ones slapping on the bracelets.

That was acceptable to Jason. So long as someone managed to bring down Durrand, he could live with it. He’d sure as hell like to be there, though.

Sam, having delivered his pronouncement, was already on his phone and headed for the wooden side gate. Jason opened his mouth to ask if Sam knew yet whether he was staying over in California, then shut it. Clearly, he was dismissed.

His smile was derisive and aimed at himself. A tiger couldn’t change its stripes, but you had to give it credit for trying. He glanced up at the wall of bamboo and tropical banana palms. The banana trees were in bloom, and their sweet, fruity fragrance filled the morning air. He realized this was the first time he and Sam had been together that he hadn’t grilled Sam about Jeremy Kyser.

The truth was, you could get used to anything, if you tried.

Speak of the devil, Hick phoned Jason’s cell as Jason started down Carroll Canal. Sam’s G-ride loan was a yard or two ahead, Sam still on his phone, addressing the troops. Jason noticed the two-story contemporary on his left was once again officially up for rent. Which could be good or bad news. The last tenants had owned a cockatiel that kept escaping into Jason’s backyard. He’d had to “rescue” the damned bird twice, and both times it had tried to bite him. But that could still be preferable to someone who played lousy guitar all night.

“GOA,” Hick said bitterly. “Gone On Arrival. We’re still trying to get the warrant. He didn’t go back to his place last night, and he’s not at the gallery. As far as anyone can tell, he’s in the wind.”

Jason swore. “Could he be headed back to New York?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe? There was a falling out between him and big brother Barnaby after everything that went down on the island. Plus, Cape Vincent PD have more on him. Not that they want to use any of it.”

Jason brought Hickok up to date on recent events, including Sam’s theory that Durrand had probably partnered up with Humphrey in a snuff film ring.

“Jesus Christ. Is he going for Gotham City Villain of the Year?”

Jason watched Sam’s vehicle turn and disappear around the corner. “I mean, this is a weirdo who used his art gallery as a torture chamber, so I don’t think we should be surprised.”

“Okay, well, this changes everything,” Hickok said grimly. “I’ve got to kick this upstairs ASAP.”

“I figured.”

“You’ve got a knack for walking into the lion’s den, West.”

“Fools rush in,” Jason said.

“Does this mean you’re pulling up stakes at the college?”

“Yes. Even before Durrand entered the game, I thought another look into Ono’s death was probably warranted. That’s what my report will say.”

“I’ve got to admit, I feel bad about writing the lady off as a crank. I wish she’d just come out and told us what she thought was going on.”

“If she didn’t have proof, and she probably didn’t, she’d have been afraid of being laughed out of your office. I mean, if Shepherd Durrand wasn’t a player in all this, I’d have trouble buying it. For years I thought snuff films were strictly urban legend.”

Hickok said, “Ono didn’t seem like someone to back down in a fight, but if she went up against Durrand, she’d never know what hit her.”

“I agree,” Jason said. “The MO is pure Durrand. The way her death was staged? It’s got his fingerprints all over it.”

“Too bad not literally,” Hickok said.

“It’ll different now that you guys know what you’re looking for. Someone will talk.”

“Someone always does,” Hick agreed.