Ru looked at the photo of Jimmy Tandy, the latest victim – though he was not the latest to die, given he had actually passed away the day after Valentine’s Day, of a suspected heart attack. He’d had heart problems for a decade, so when his daughter found him dead in his bed, she’d presumed it was that. It appeared the coroner had, too.
But then Jimmy’s daughter had recognised the gift box on the news. It was the same one she’d found at her father’s house with a pair of cufflinks discarded on the side made from metallic spotted beetle shells.
And now here they were in the producer’s luxury high-rise apartment in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, on the other side of Central Park from Jacqueline’s apartment, in an area known for its museums. The apartment was modern, with high-end finishes, a spacious open-plan living area and state-of-the-art technology.
‘Tell me about Jimmy,’ Ru said to Harris as the forensics team bagged up the gift box and cufflinks in the bedroom.
‘He’s a producer,’ Harris said, checking his notes. ‘Worked on a tonne of films.’
‘Another victim linked to the world of entertainment and celebrity.’
Harris nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘Any connection with the other victims?’
‘Nothing obvious from a quick search but his daughter said he knew anyone and everyone.’
One of the forensics team walked past with the gift box Jimmy had received in a see-through evidence bag. Ru frowned as he noticed something.
‘Stop,’ he said to the officer. ‘Hold it up to the light, just like you did a second ago.’
The officer obliged, holding the gift box up under the light streaming in from the main window. Ru leaned in closer. Yes, there appeared to be a barely noticeable watermark on the side of the box. Specifically, the same Japanese symbol he’d seen on the envelope in Heidi Stone’s office.
He got his phone out, his fingers working deftly as he opened his browser and entered the symbol along with the word ‘packaging’. The results brought up a host of content related to luxury packaging with Japanese design elements. Ru combed through them, looking for the distinctive kanji that matched the watermark. But he could find nothing.
When they got back to the precinct, Adiche was waiting for him. ‘We’ve had another person come forward as a result of the captain’s press conference,’ she said.
‘Alive, I hope?’ Ru asked.
‘Yes, thank God,’ Adiche replied. ‘It’s the actress, Ali Perkins.’
Ru frowned. ‘Who?’
‘She’s no Cordelia,’ Ramos called over. ‘She’s in that Netflix series about dog groomers.’
‘He still won’t know,’ Harris said. ‘Hoshino’s allergic to his TV, remember?’
‘Whatever, it’s not really important,’ Adiche said. ‘What is important is she sold the item she received to someone at a craft fair in Williamsburg two days ago.’
The officers in the room exchanged looks.
‘Shit,’ Harris said.
‘Does she know who?’ Ru asked.
‘No,’ Adiche said. ‘She got a photo of the item, though, as she tried to sell it on eBay first. I’ll get our press team to circulate it. Plus I'm trying to see if there’s any CCTV at the venue where the craft fair took place.’
‘We need to be all over this,’ Ru said.
‘I know Williamsburg,’ Bouchier offered. ‘I’ll head there with some uniforms, get canvassing and track down any other fair stall holders and attendees. We’ll alert the media, too.’
Haworth nodded. ‘Perfect.’
Ru got his notepad out and looked at the names he’d written down of the victims so far. ‘So far we know the following received gifts: Cordelia, Maximilian, Jerry, Kendra, Madeline, Jimmy and now Ali Perkins. They key is learning what connects these people. Why have they been targeted? We have an actress, a fashion designer, a billionaire, a celebrity journalist, a producer, an actress. All New York natives from what I can see, all high-profile.’ He frowned. ‘I keep coming back to AuthenticAegis. All these people will represent these “luminaries of New York” that AuthenticAegis refers to. This “decadence that they wear as a mask”.’ He mulled over it for a moment, and nodded. ‘I’m going to look at these videos again, try to find some clues to who this person is.’
An hour later, Ru was hunched over his computer in the squad room as he re-watched AuthenticAegis videos, jotting down notes. The timing of the video uploads tended to happen after 4 p.m. on weekdays, and clustered around weekends and school holidays. It was a pattern that suggested the creator had other primary commitments, like attending school, or maybe they were a teacher. It also suggested they lived and breathed New York, someone who saw its beauty and its flaws up close.
He noticed one scene looked like it had been filmed from a window. But it was hard to make out the view properly, overlayed as it was with effects and text. He downloaded the video then uploaded it to a video editing tool he had. With a few clicks, he began the meticulous process of stripping away the layers of digital manipulation, reducing the video to its raw form. As he did, the cityscape became clearer. He zoomed in, noticing the unmistakable outline of One World Trade Center and the Empire State Building, angled in such a way that they appeared almost side by side, a perspective not possible from most parts of the city. This unique juxtaposition, coupled with a sliver of the Brooklyn Bridge peeking into the frame, suggested the video was shot from an elevated position to the south-west of these landmarks. Only a few neighbourhoods could offer such a view where these icons aligned so distinctly – areas like Red Hook, Gowanus, or … Park Slope.
Wasn’t that where Bronagh Thompson lived?
He frowned, slumping back into his chair as he steepled his hands together, leaning his chin on his fingertips.
Haworth walked over then, an excited glint in her eyes. ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ she said. ‘Guess who Cordelia’s therapist was?’
‘Who?’
‘Joe Thompson. Dr Bronagh Thompson’s husband.’