Big Jack

“My God, I would love to go shopping with you.” This time Mira’s laugh flowed over the cranky noises of the Eatery. “And you look as if I’ve just stabbed you with my fork under the table. One day I’ll rope you into it, but for now rather than ruin your appetite, why don’t I ask you how Mavis is doing?”

“Good.” Though Eve wasn’t sure talking about pregnancy was any less of an appetite blower than shopping. “You wouldn’t know she was, ah, cooking anything in there if she didn’t advertise it. She and Leonardo might rent blimp space. He’s designing her all kinds of pregnant-chick clothes, but I can’t really tell the difference.”

“Give them all my best. I know you want to get to business. Why don’t we order first? I’m having a Greek salad. You can usually trust those here.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Mira ordered two from the menu. “Do you know I remember bits and pieces about the robbery at the Exchange? It was very big news at the time.”

“How? You’re too young.”

“Now that has set me up for the day. Actually, I was only, what… oh, how depressing. I’d’ve been about four, I suppose. But my uncle happened to be dating a woman who had a booth in the Exchange. She was a jewelry designer and was there, on the main floor, when the robbery happened. I remember hearing my parents talk about it, and when I was a bit older I developed such an interest in crime that I looked up the details. The family co

“Is she still around? The designer?”

“I have no idea. It didn’t work out between her and my uncle. I do know that she didn’t know a thing until security shut the place down. She didn’t know the inside man. At least that’s what I got from my uncle when I asked him about it later. I could get you her name, I’m sure, if you want to try to track her down.”

“I might, but it’s probably the wrong direction. At least at this point. Tell me about the killer.”

“Well. The act, the murders themselves, aren’t his priority. They’re a by-product. His victims and his methods are different, each suiting his needs at the time. He would be most interested in his own needs. The fact that they were both women, even attractive, isn’t important. I doubt he has a spouse or serious relationship as either would interfere with his self-absorption. There was nothing sexual, despite his romancing of Tina Cobb, and that romancing was not only a means to an end but on his own terms.”

“Taking her places he preferred in order to show off his superior intellect and taste.”

“Yes. There was nothing personal in either murder. He sees the big picture, from his own narrow view. Cobb could be utilized and exploited, and so she was. He plans and considers, so it follows that he knew he could kill her when her use to him ended. He knew her, set out to know her. He knew her face, the touch of her hand, the sound of her voice, may have been intimate with her physically if it moved him toward his goal, but there would be no personal co

“He destroyed her face.”

“Yes, but not out of rage, not out of personal emotion. Out of self-preservation. Both murders were a result of his need to protect himself. He will remove, destroy, eliminate anything or anyone who gets in the way of his goal or his own personal safety.”

“There was violence in his elimination of Cobb.”

“Yes.”

“He hurt her. To extract information?”

“Possibly, yes. More likely to attempt to mislead the police, to make them think it was a crime of passion. It may have been both. He would have considered. He has time to consider. He took Cobb to crowded places, away from her own aegis. But his choices reflect a certain style. Art, theater, a trendy restaurant.”

“Reflecting his aegis.”

“He would want to be comfortable, yes.” The first salad plate slid out, and Mira set it in front of Eve. “He entered Ga

“Because it had already been done? Because Alex Crew used that method with Laine Tavish?”

Mira took the second plate, smiled. “It reflects a powerful ego, doesn’t it? ‘I won’t repeat, I’ll create.’ And a respect for art and antiques. He didn’t vandalize, didn’t destroy the artwork, the valuable furniture. He’d consider such a thing beneath him. He has knowledge of such things, likely owns such things himself. Certainly he aspires to. But if it was only aspiration, he would have taken what appealed to his sense of aesthetic or avarice. He’s very focused.”

“He’s educated? Cultured?”

“Art galleries, museums, West Village theater?” Mira shrugged a shoulder. “He could have taken the girl to Coney Island, to Times Square, to a dozen places a young man of her same sphere might take a girl on a date. But he didn’t.”

“Because, like stealing art pieces or electronics, it would be beneath him to munch on a soy dog in Coney Island.”

“Mmm.” Mira nibbled on salad. “He isn’t looking for glory, fame or attention. He isn’t looking for sex or even wealth in the traditional sense. He’s looking for something very specific.”

“Alex Crew had a son.”

Mira’s brows winged up. “Did he?”

“A kid at the time this all went down.”

She filled Mira in, then let the doctor absorb the new data while they ate.

“I see what you’re considering. The son hears of the book, or reads it, and learns one of his father’s former partners’ ancestors is right here in New York. That she has enough information for a book, and very likely has more. That she may very well have access to the diamonds. But why, if he’s known of them all this time, hasn’t he tried to find them, or get to the Ga

“Maybe he didn’t know the whole story until the book. Maybe he didn’t know the co

“It could give him what he’d consider a proprietary right to them. They were his father’s property, so to speak. But if his father brought them to him when he was a child-”

“It wasn’t in the book,” Eve reminded her. “And we can’t know what Crew did or didn’t do or say or take when he paid that last visit.”

“All right. From what we know of Crew, he felt entitled to the entire booty, and killed for it. They were an obsession for him, one he pursued even though he had enough to ensure he’d live well for the rest of his life. It’s possible the son is working with the same obsession, the same view.”

“My gut tells me it comes from Crew.”

“And your gut is usually right. Does it trouble you to take that line, Eve? To play the sins of the father in your head?”

“Yeah.” She could say it here, to Mira. “Some.”

“Heredity can be a strong pull. Heredity and early environment together, an almost irresistible pull. Those who break it, who make their own despite it, are very strong.”

“Maybe.” Eve leaned forward. No one around them would listen, but she leaned closer, lowered her voice. “You know, you can just sink down, you can sink and say it’s somebody else’s fault you’re down there in the piss and the shit of the world. But it’s just an excuse. The lawyers, the shrinks, the doctors and social reformers can say, ‘Oh, it’s not her fault, she’s not responsible. Look where she came from. Look what he did to her. She’s traumatized. She’s damaged.’ ”

Mira laid a hand over Eve’s. She knew she was thinking of herself, the child, and what the woman might have become. “But?”

“The cops, we know that the victims, the ones who are broken or shattered or dead… or dead, they need somebody to stand up for them, to say, ‘Goddamn it, it is your fault. You did this, and you have to pay for it, no matter if your mother beat you or your father… No matter what, you don’t have the right to damage the next guy.’ ”