Ru walked through the Lower Manhattan precinct where he’d once been the lead detective, still reeling from what Vanessa had told him. This was now officially a homicide investigation. One that involved a killer who was not only highly technically skilled, having managed to attach an injector to a hair clip, but also took a perverse pride in their work.
‘Good to have you back, Hoshino,’ one of the detectives said as Ru headed into what they all referred to as the ‘squad room’, the large, open-plan space where all the precinct’s detectives conducted their daily work. The space was a maze of desks, each cluttered with the personal flotsam of its occupant: family photos jostling for space with stacks of case files, mismatched mugs holding a rainbow of pens, and the occasional potted plant struggling for light. In the far corner, a worn-out sofa and a coffee table laden with yesterday’s newspapers and a constantly full ashtray served as a makeshift break area.
Was it good to be back? Ru wasn’t sure. The precinct, with its rigid bureaucratic structures, had never been his natural habitat. Even when he was a regular a year ago, he preferred to get out as soon as he could to continue the rest of his work at home.
Ru’s phone buzzed. He looked down to see it was a message from his mother.
Ru-kun, hope all is well. I know you’re always so busy-busy, but I haven’t seen you this month. Will you make time for dinner Saturday evening at the restaurant? I will make your special katsudon. It would be good for you to take a break and eat good food 🍢 🍚 🌸
He quickly replied: Probability of attendance remains uncertain due to case variables. But the allure of your katsudon is noted. Will keep you updated. 🎲
Harris strolled over with a cup of coffee in his hand and fell into step beside Ru. ‘A fashion designer, huh? You think it’s all linked?’
‘My guess would be definitely.’
‘So it’s a bad batch of drugs?’
‘Unlikely.’
Harris frowned. ‘There’s been a development?’
‘There has. Everyone gathered?’
‘Yeah, they’re inside with Haworth.’
They both entered a room at the back. Inside, the blinds were drawn tight over the windows to keep the room’s secrets from prying eyes. A central table was surrounded by chairs and a large screen had replaced the whiteboard that had once dominated the back wall. Clearly, some money had flowed into the department since he’d been gone. Next to the screen was Lieutenant Haworth. Her journey to the precinct after a return that morning from a holiday to the Dominican Republic had been a traffic-heavy scramble, meaning she’d barely made it to the precinct in time to give this briefing. At least it had afforded her time to make all the important calls, including one to Ru. He hadn’t been surprised to see her number flash up; he knew he’d be having a conversation with her soon. He just didn’t realise he’d be pulled right into a case.
Of course, he’d said yes straight away, half out of intrigue when he heard the details, half out of respect for the lieutenant. He’d always liked her. She was the epitome of dedication, her years on the force and her experience growing up in the Harlem River Housing Project in the sixties and seventies instilling in her a profound understanding of the fine line between hardship and community. This experience had cemented a deep respect for her, not just within the precinct walls but also across the whole of Manhattan.
She gave Ru a nod now when he walked in and gestured to the desk beside her. He headed right there, hopping onto its surface and sitting down with crossed legs just like he used to.
A dozen or so officers were gathered around the table; some Ru recognised, others he didn’t. A few exchanged bemused glances, but Harris and Ramos both just rolled their eyes. They were used to Ru’s strange ways.
‘Right. Let’s evaluate what we’ve unearthed so far,’ Lieutenant Haworth began. ‘Harris, if you could run through what you know about the victim?’
Harris nodded as he peered down at his notebook. ‘Sure, Boss. Cordelia Montgomery. Twenty-five. Well-known actress. Found dead in her Tribeca apartment this morning. Body may have been there for approximately one week. Fast-forward to over an hour ago. Maximilian Rossi, supposedly an icon in the fashion world, collapses and dies in the nightclub above the Seraphim Garden Hotel at the same time Hoshino was visiting Nils Thorsen with Dr Vanessa Marwood, the forensic entomologist on the case.’ He looked up at the room. ‘That’s Bug Lady,’ he said, adding an explainer.
‘Wait,’ Ramos said, ‘isn’t that the name on the torn-up fashion show invite we found at Cordelia’s apartment?’
‘Indeed it is,’ Ru said. ‘I have just come off the phone from Dr Marwood and it appears we are closer to ascertaining Cordelia’s cause of death. She may have been poisoned by the distinctive hair clip that was found on her person.’
The looks on the faces around the room were predictable. Surprise. Disbelief.
‘You mean the hair clip made from a live beetle?’ Ramos asked, as the officers around the room wrinkled their noses in disgust.
‘That very clip,’ Ru replied. ‘Upon closer examination, Dr Marwood discovered that a small injector had been fitted to it.’
‘That is fucking crazy,’ Harris murmured.
‘Life is stranger than fiction,’ Ramos said as she shifted position in her seat, cradling her large belly. ‘We’ve all seen that to be true in this messed-up job.’
The officers around the room nodded.
‘So what, some sicko tampered with the hair clip to kill Cordelia?’ the lieutenant asked.
‘Possibly,’ Ru said. ‘Furthermore, at the time of his death, Maximilian Rossi was wearing a watch featuring an endangered species of butterfly.’
‘A live butterfly?’ Harris asked with a look of horror on his face, glancing down at his own watch.
‘Not this time,’ Ru replied. ‘Dr Marwood will be taking a look at it to see if there is a similar device.’
‘It’s gotta be the Thorsens,’ Ramos said.
Looks of displeasure crossed the officers’ faces at the mention of the Thorsens. Many had had dealings with the family over the years.
‘Definitely has my antennae buzzing,’ Harris joked as some of the other officers laughed.
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Haworth remarked.
Ru uncrossed his legs and stood up, pacing slowly up and down the room as the officers’ eyes followed him, some twisting in their seats to watch him. ‘Adiche,’ Ru said, addressing an intelligent-looking woman with bright blue glasses framing her big brown eyes. She was the kind of investigator who didn’t just scratch the surface; she mined it. Originally a computer science graduate, a relationship with a fellow student who was training to become an officer had drawn her into the world of policing. Her computer training didn’t go to waste; instead, it became her greatest asset. ‘You should dig deeper into the rare insect trade,’ Ru instructed her. ‘Check for any recent busts, known players, exotic imports. See if anything connects with the Thorsen family. And find out if we can subpoena the Thorsens’ financials, too. You might want to get in touch with the US Fish and Wildlife Service. If you come up against any problems, let me know. I’ll see if I can get the funding for NovaScope to look into it. They have a strong financial forensics team.’
Adiche nodded. ‘Sure thing.’
‘As for the rest of you,’ the lieutenant said, turning back to the room, ‘deep dive Cordelia Montgomery and Maximilian Rossi’s personal lives. Friends, enemies, frenemies, business associates. We need to build a digital footprint of their last days, too.’
‘We should also map out all and any connections the two victims have to each other,’ Ru suggested. ‘We know Cordelia featured in Maximilian’s fashion campaigns. But let’s see what else we can find.’
‘Did you know they share the same agent?’ Adiche asked as she looked up from her iPad. ‘Heidi Stone.’
‘Interesting,’ Ru murmured.
‘Ramos, any luck tracking this agent down?’ the lieutenant asked the officer.
Ramos nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m going to see her at the end of the day. I tried to get in earlier but she said she’s on the other side of the city and won’t be back until then.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Ru said.
The door opened then, and Captain Williams strode in. He headed up the whole precinct so of course he was making sure to show his face for a case as big as this. He was a hulking figure with a thick-set neck and broad shoulders. The redness of his cheeks painted the picture of a man accustomed to excess – too many late nights, perhaps a few too many drinks. His uniform, though impeccably neat, seemed to strain slightly at the waist, no doubt bearing the impact of countless dinners with officials and VIPs.
Ru was slightly annoyed to see him looking so relaxed considering the day’s developments. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, and there was a placating smile playing on his lips as he approached the centre of the room. But he hadn’t been informed yet about the hair clip injector development. He hadn’t seen Ru, either. The lieutenant had told Ru she’d discussed assigning him to the case with the captain. To Ru’s surprise, he had agreed. However, the actual sight of Ru would be another matter entirely.
As if tuned into Ru’s thoughts, the captain’s gaze found the detective, his expression turning sour. ‘I’ve been following up on the developments with the fashion designer,’ he snapped, ‘and I’m leaning towards a narcotics angle on this one.’
Ru shifted slightly, feeling the room’s gaze on him.
‘Captain, there has been a development that might change things,’ Haworth said. ‘Detective Hoshino, can you explain?’
Ru shared Vanessa’s findings with the room, the captain’s expression increasingly incredulous as he did.
‘That seems preposterous,’ Williams said.
‘A scientist doesn’t think so,’ Ru replied.
‘What scientist?’ the captain asked.
‘The forensic entomologist from Bronagh Thompson’s firm that you agreed for us to bring onto the case,’ Haworth replied.
‘Bronagh?’ the captain asked. ‘Doesn’t she work in the labs in Queens?’
‘She did,’ Haworth replied with more patience than Ru felt. ‘But she left to set up her own firm, which happens to employ one of the world’s leading forensic entomologists in the world, Dr Vanessa Marwood.’
‘Entomology? Isn’t their area maggots and pollen?’ the captain asked.
‘Dr Vanessa Marwood also has a detailed knowledge of insects,’ Ru said, ‘and given the hair clip was made from a live insect – and that hair clip is now looking likely to be the murder weapon – she will be playing a very important role in this case. In fact, she will soon be receiving the watch Maximilian Rossi was wearing.’
‘Watch?’ the captain asked, the officers around them all observing the interplay between Ru and Williams in fascination. ‘What watch?’
‘At the time of death, the designer was wearing a watch that had rare insect elements,’ Ru explained.
‘Do you realise how ridiculous this all sounds?’ the captain asked, visibly irritated. ‘Until we get definitive evidence, I do not want a word of this getting out to the press. We do not need the city panicking over some deranged jewellery-making, insect-loving serial killer.’ Ru opened his mouth to protest but the captain continued. ‘For now, we pursue the narcotics angle. These young, rich types are well known for getting caught up in substances. Let’s not see bizarre patterns where there are none. It’s not our main stage.’
Main stage. Interesting choice of words from the captain considering narcotics was his main stage, big drug hauls and dealer arrests being the area where he’d made his name.
‘But to ignore patterns could be a mistake,’ Ru said calmly, ‘especially in a high-profile case such as this.’
‘By all means look into your theories,’ the captain said dismissively, ‘but have the narcotics team on speed dial. And Hoshino, let’s keep the theatrics to a minimum, shall we? The last thing we need – the last thing you need,’ he added pointedly, ‘is more drama.’ Then he stormed from the room.
‘That man is living in a world of denial,’ Ramos said with an eye roll.
‘Since when hasn’t he been?’ the lieutenant added.
Ru’s phone rang. It was NovaScope’s number. He put the phone to his ear.
‘Detective Hoshino?’ It was Bronagh. ‘Maximilian Rossi’s watch just arrived. I think you need to come take a look for yourself.’