The Mermaid Murders (The Art of Murder 1)

They had left the prison and gone for coffee, although by then Jason could have used a real drink. He was glad to sit out on this patio, glad of the open air and sunlight. Even the exhaust of cars circling the small parking lot was refreshing after the gray atmosphere of MCI Cedar Junction.

“I think at the end he was trying to make me think he did,” Jason replied.

Kennedy’s face was grim, and no wonder. If he had missed this—missed an accomplice to Pink’s crimes—there would be no living that down.

Jason was pretty sure that was not the case. He said, “I think, belatedly, he wanted to create the illusion he’s the one in control. He’s still the mastermind. He’s the important one.”

Kennedy drummed his fingers on the pink melamine surface of the patio table, thinking. “Not bad, West.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t sound so surprised. I did graduate from the academy.”

All at once he seemed to have Kennedy’s complete and critical attention. “I know. And you did very well. Top of your class. You’re on the fast track to promotion from everything I hear. I’m curious as to why someone with a Masters in Art History would want to go into law enforcement.”

“I like to keep busy.” Jason crumpled his cup and tossed it into the trash bin.

Kennedy, continuing to eye him, offered one of those humorless smiles.

Jason wasn’t sure if he was flattered or alarmed Kennedy had bothered to check up on him. Especially now.

“And a Harley to boot.”

Jason narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I have no idea who the Harleys are. Nor do I care.”

Now that Jason believed. He asked, “What’s the real reason you sent me in there to talk to Pink rather than interviewing him yourself?”

Kennedy’s blue appraisal grew unexpectedly chilly. “The real reason? I needed an impartial judge.”

Jason thought this over. “To determine whether Pink really was the Huntsman?”

“You got it. It’s what you’re here for, right? To make sure I didn’t screw up that earlier investigation—and that I don’t screw up this one.”

“No one suggested you screwed up the earlier investigation.”

Kennedy’s gaze grew mocking. “Tactfully put. You’ll do well in management.”

“Fuck off,” Jason said quietly.

Kennedy’s pale brows rose.

“Sir,” Jason added.

Kennedy laughed. It was a sound of genuine amusement. “Or maybe not. Anyway, don’t sir me. I’m not your supervisor as you know very well.”

Yes, they were both aware of their roles. Even so, Jason was a little startled by his reaction. Kennedy had a way of getting under his skin. But then, Kennedy had a way of getting under everyone’s skin. That was part of what made him good at his job.

It was also part of why he didn’t have a lot of friends to back him up when he needed it.

Jason said, “If you really were worried, you can relax. I’ve got no doubt Pink is the Huntsman. I don’t believe he ever had an accomplice. I believe he acted alone. And as far as acquiring an apprentice, it was clear to me in the initial part of the interview he was floored at the idea that there could be a successful copycat.”

Kennedy said, “That doesn’t rule out the possibility that he’s got one.”

“If he does, it’s news to him. And not good news either.”

“Maybe.” Kennedy seemed unconvinced. Was he genuinely afraid he had missed something crucial in that initial investigation? Self-doubt seemed out of character for him.

Jason said, “I don’t think Pink plays well with others. And I don’t just mean the homicidal maniac thing, though that’s an obvious factor. I don’t think he’s the type to share the glory or the gory. He’s a one-man show.”