Ru stepped away from his bike, leaning down to rub at his heels, which were sore from wearing a pair of leather brogues he only usually got out for weddings and funerals. But the media relations team had been insistent he at least swapped his trainers for shoes for the press conference later. They also emphasised the importance of being ‘approachable yet authoritative, confident yet humble’. When Ru had pointed out the contradictions, they’d looked at him like he was mad.
Before the press conference, though, he had one task: to update Cordelia’s mother, Felicity, on the latest developments. Harris was handling Maximilian and Rhoda’s families, and Ru had already been to the hospital to visit Madeline, where the doctor confirmed she would recover, especially now they had an idea of the kind of toxin that may have been used on her, following work carried out by Bronagh’s team.
‘If we hadn’t got to her when we did,’ the doctor had said, ‘it’s likely she wouldn’t be alive right now. Time is of the essence with any toxin, but particularly with something as potent as botulinum toxin, if that is indeed what was used on her. We’ll need to see how her body responds to treatment in the coming days and weeks. But she’s young and healthy. I’m confident she will make a good recovery. For now, though, she needs peace and quiet … and she’s certainly not ready for questions,’ he’d added pointedly.
Ru was fine with that. He was just relieved she’d survive. He wished he could have done the same for the other victims, including Cordelia. Instead, he was visiting her grieving mother.
Felicity lived in a smart-looking apartment building in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, between a synagogue and a family-run deli. Ru imagined Cordelia would have earned enough money for her mother to live somewhere a lot flashier, and yet it seemed Felicity had chosen to remain where she had brought up her family. Ru’s own mother was the same, still in the Astoria apartment she had bought from proceeds from her restaurant.
He pressed the buzzer and waited. Levi answered.
‘Detective Hoshino, do you have news to share?’ Levi said through the speakerphone in his usual clipped tones.
‘I do,’ Ru replied, wondering if he’d seen the news about Madeline’s poisoning. It would have been hard to miss.
‘I’ll let you in,’ Levi said.
With a soft buzz, the door clicked open. Ru pushed through into the lobby and across a floor of black and white tiles, worn down by the comings and goings of the building’s residents. He took the lift to Felicity’s floor to find Levi already waiting for him at the open door of the apartment, wearing smart trousers and a white jumper. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flicked over Ru.
‘Please, come in,’ he said, holding the door wide.
Felicity was already waiting for him in the small hallway. She looked even more worn down since the last time Ru had seen her, as though she had been holding herself together for the funeral. Her greying hair was in disarray and her face was make-up free, revealing sallow and tear-drenched skin.
‘Detective Hoshino,’ she said. ‘Is this connected to that poor girl’s collapse in Central Park?’
‘Yes, plus a few other developments.’
‘Please, come through.’ She led him down a corridor. The apartment was spacious and homely all at the same time, featuring bookshelves lined with a mix of literature and Judaica art, and family photos gracing the walls – snapshots of birthdays, bat mitzvahs, and other celebrations, Cordelia’s pretty face beaming out at Ru from different stages in her short life with family and friends.
‘Can I offer you tea or coffee?’ Felicity asked Ru.
‘Tea would be good, thank you,’ Ru replied, following Felicity into the large kitchen.
Levi took a seat across from Ru at a small table, as Felicity busied herself with making tea. When she was done, she brought over three mugs and sat next to her son.
‘Mrs Montgomery,’ Ru began, trying to inject some warmth into his voice. This victim family liaison side of things wasn’t his strength. ‘As you are aware, an associate of your daughter’s, Madeline Layton, collapsed last night. Luckily, we’re hopeful she will make a full recovery.’
‘Do you think her collapse is linked to Cordelia’s death?’ Levi asked. ‘And Maximilian Rossi’s and Rhoda Matheson’s, too?’
‘We do,’ Ru said, ‘and I’m afraid it’s looking even more likely that Cordelia’s death is part of a larger campaign of deaths. We now have strong reason to believe someone deliberately set out to harm not only Cordelia and Maximilian Rossi, but also Madeline Layton and Jerry Bowman.’
Felicity clutched her hand to her chest, face paling, while Levi looked down into his mug.
Ru explained about the insect jewellery, the gift boxes and, finally, the preliminary toxicology report he’d received from Bronagh a few moments before his visit.
Felicity stood up and walked over to the sink, clutching the edges as she gulped in breaths.
‘Are you OK, Mrs Montgomery?’ Ru asked. ‘Do you need anything?’
‘She’s just trying to wrap her head around it all,’ Levi said, going to the sink and pouring his mother a glass of water, encouraging her to take a sip.
‘Are there any leads?’ Levi asked. ‘Maybe a stalker? Cordelia had some trouble over the years.’
‘We’re following many avenues,’ Ru replied. ‘The reason I wanted to tell you today is because the police captain will be making a statement at midday. We preferred you heard it from us than on the news. I understand this is a shock to you both.’
‘To be honest,’ Felicity said with a sigh, ‘nothing can shock me as much as seeing Cordelia on her bed last week.’
As she said that, the intercom buzzer went. ‘That will be my wife,’ Levi explained.
Felicity excused herself briefly to answer it, her voice a soft murmur as she spoke to her daughter-in-law. Moments later, the apartment door opened and Levi’s wife walked in, bringing with her a waft of powerful perfume. She looked rather shocked when she saw Ru.
‘Here, let’s put this in the fridge,’ Felicity said, taking a large bag from her.
As the two women unpacked food, Levi turned to Ru, using the inch in height he had over the detective to full advantage as he loomed over him.
‘I’d rather have it that I were the main contact for this investigation from now on, Detective Hoshino,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘This is really taking a toll on my mother. She may look like she’s coping but she really isn’t.’
‘Understandably,’ Ru said. ‘But I’ll need to check that with your mother.’
‘She’ll be fine with it.’
‘Still, I’d rather check.’
Levi’s nostrils flared then he nodded. ‘Fine.’ He looked over at his mother. ‘I was just telling Detective Hoshino that I should be his main contact from now on.’
‘I think that’s a very good idea, don’t you, Felicity?’ Levi’s wife insisted, squeezing her mother-in-law’s shoulder.
‘Well, if you think …?’ Felicity began, looking between her son and daughter-in-law.
‘I do,’ Levi said, walking to his mother and rubbing her arm. ‘I think you’re taking too much on. Planning the funeral last week, and now the memorial gala.’
‘Memorial gala?’ Ru asked.
‘Yes,’ Levi said, ‘the organisers of an annual winter gala taking place on Wednesday have offered to include an element celebrating Cordelia’s life while raising money for a charity dear to her heart. My mother and my wife are helping.’
‘You should come, Detective Hoshino,’ Felicity said.
Levi and his wife exchanged disapproving looks. ‘Mother, we can’t just give tickets away willy-nilly,’ Levi said. ‘And I’m sure you are a very busy man, Detective Hoshino. Thank you for the update.’ He gestured towards the door. Ru watched Felicity, wondering if she was really happy about her son being the main contact. Then he looked at his watch. It wasn’t something he had time to push. He needed to get back to the precinct in time for the press conference, something he was dreading.
Ru’s fingers tapped an arrhythmic pattern on the surface of the lectern. In front of him, journalists jostled for the best position, their cameras flashing in rapid succession. Next to him, the captain was a bastion of composure. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the press,’ he began in a deep, authoritative voice, ‘I am here with Detective Ru Hoshino to update you on the ongoing investigation into the recent and tragic deaths of Cordelia Montgomery, Maximilian Rossi and Rhoda Matheson and the recent collapse of Madeline Layton who, as you know, is expected to make a full recovery thanks to the excellent work carried out by Detective Hoshino and his team.’ The captain paused, scanning the eager faces in front of him. ‘First and foremost, I would like to convey condolences to the families and friends of the deceased and injured, and ask that their privacy is respected at this time. I would also like to assure the public that my officers are working around the clock on this case.’ He paused, looking directly into the glare of the camera flashes, before continuing. ‘Preliminary toxicology results have confirmed Cordelia and Maximilian were both poisoned.’ There was a sudden burst of surprised murmuring in the room. ‘We suspect we will discover the same when the toxicology results come through for Rhoda and, more recently, Madeline. Now let me pass over to the lead detective in charge of this case, Detective Ru Hoshino.’
Ru pulled at the collar of his T-shirt and coughed into his fist. He wasn’t quite sure he’d ever forgive the captain for making him do this. But it was happening and there was nothing he could do to change it. On the screen behind him, an image appeared of the gift box and the card that came with it.
‘We believe all four victims received a box like this in the post on Valentine’s Day, with this note,’ he said, clicking the laptop in front of him to move onto the page with the note. ‘Inside each box was a piece of jewellery featuring illegally imported insects. Jewellery which was manipulated to deliver a lethal dose of poison to all four victims.’ There was more murmuring in the room, shocked glances, and camera flashes which made Ru blink. ‘It is of paramount importance that anyone who comes into contact with a gift, or indeed any jewellery item, made with real insects, immediately move themselves to safety and call this number.’ A number flashed up on the screen.
The captain nodded, looking relieved. Frankly, Ru was relieved, too. He’d done just as asked: ‘approachable yet authoritative, confident yet humble’.
‘In a moment,’ the captain said, ‘the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene will make a statement. In the meantime, we’ll take a few questions.’
A young female reporter immediately shot her hand up. ‘Tina Denman from the New York Daily. Reports suggest Cordelia was in a relationship with the owner of the Seraphim Garden Hotel, Nils Thorsen. It can’t be a coincidence that Maximilian Rossi then collapsed in his club, and Madeline Layton collapsed just outside Jacqueline Thorsen’s penthouse?’
‘No one is ruled out,’ the captain replied, ‘but our findings will be based on evidence, not speculation.’
The captain pointed to a well-dressed man, notepad in hand. ‘Jimi Kensington, the City Chronicle,’ the journalist stated. ‘Are the FBI involved?’
The captain nodded. ‘I am in conversation with our friends at the FBI due to the federal nature of some of the crimes committed.’
A blonde female reporter shouted over the murmurings: ‘Jenny Powell, New York Daily. Is it true Cordelia was seeing a therapist?’
‘Isn’t every celebrity?’ Jimi Kensington murmured as the other journalists laughed.
‘What I mean is,’ the young journalist said, irritated, ‘there are rumours she was experiencing quite challenging mental health issues in recent weeks.’
The journalists raised their voices as Captain Williams put his hand up, signalling for calm. ‘We urge the public and the media not to jump to conclusions. Every piece of information is being carefully examined.’
Another journalist raised her hand, a woman in her twenties with brown hair in a blunt bob and bright red lips. ‘Kendra Grey, the Chislington Post.’
It was the same journalist Ramos was due to visit that afternoon; the one who’d received the second item on Jacqueline’s handwritten note to Ru.
‘This one’s for Detective Hoshino,’ she said. ‘Your recently leaked blog post painted a dark image of society, particularly pointing out the roles of influencers like Madeline Layton as “modern-day jesters”. Given the nature of this case, there’s a growing concern on social media about your ability to remain impartial.’ Ru felt the captain bristle beside him. ‘In fact, some people are suggesting that YouTuber AuthenticAegis is you. How do you address these speculations, and can you assure the public that your personal philosophies have not influenced your conduct in this investigation?’
Ru thought of the advice the media relations officer had given to him should he get a question like this: Basically, ‘fluff’ – the kind of benign, noncommittal responses that could never be misconstrued or turned into sensational headlines. But fluff was the farthest from what Ru considered the truth – a concept he held in higher regard than his own comfort.
‘My writings reflect a personal philosophy I’m sure many normal New Yorkers share,’ Ru began, his voice calm. ‘They do not cloud my judgement as an officer of the law. In fact, they serve to sharpen it. After all, “modern-day jesters” are as much a part of our society as any, deserving of protection and justice. My commitment to protect and serve is unwavering.’
Beside him, the captain groaned under his breath.
‘I’ll take over from here,’ he hissed to Ru. The journalists continued their barrage of questions, each trying to get that exclusive angle, that one piece of information that would set their report apart. Through it all, Captain Williams stood firm, revealing nothing more than he intended. Ru had to admit, the captain was good at deflecting the press with non-answers.
When the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene took over, Ru quickly left the podium and found Kendra before she walked out.
‘Isn’t my colleague due to visit you this afternoon?’ he said. ‘Can you assure me that your personal experience has not influenced your conduct in this press conference?’ he said, copying what she’d said about him.
‘Nice,’ Kendra said, ‘very nice. Oh, and thank your forensics team, by the way, for royally messing up my apartment.’
‘I think a messy apartment is preferable to a contaminated one. I hear you were writing an exposé on the illegal insect trade,’ Ru said, ‘hence why you connected the packaging with the Thorsens, having bought items from them before which used the same packaging. Interesting topic for a showbiz journalist, illegal insect trading.’
‘Clearly not,’ she said, ‘considering the number of celebrities who wear these things.’
Ru observed Kendra’s demeanour, the defensive cross of her arms, the tilt of her head – classic tells of discomfort. She was lying. Even more noticeable as she moved under the window and into the afternoon light were the distinct tan lines – or, as they were sometimes referred to, ‘skier’s tan’ – where her ski mask would have sat.
‘You’ve been skiing recently,’ Ru observed. ‘Wasn’t your boss, Jerry Bowman, skiing too?’
A flicker of unease crossed her face. ‘Maybe,’ she said, trying to seem casual. ‘It’s ski season, what can I say?’
‘I’d say,’ he said, ‘as a serious journalist, that it’s better to control the narrative before someone else takes that control away from you.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘I better go.’
Then she made a sharp exit. As Ru watched her, he thought about those who had so far been targeted by this killer:
An actress.
A fashion designer.
A billionaire.
An influencer.
A journalist … and the billionaire’s lover?
A circle of people connected by … what?
‘What was that about?’ Harris asked as he strolled over. ‘Good job up there, by the way.’
‘Thanks. And that was Kendra Grey, the journalist who received the wasp ring. Something tells me she might be Jerry Bowman’s mistress.’
‘Interesting. So,’ Harris said as they watched the last of the journalists leave, the captain talking in low voices with the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene team, ‘wonder what this press conference will bring crawling out of the woodwork.’
‘More deaths, maybe,’ Ru replied. ‘Suspected heart attacks and drug overdoses will take on more sinister possibilities now that news has started to spread about these gift boxes. This could be just the beginning.’