"That's bullshit!" Mason exploded. "The killer probably grabbed her when she was out for a run. She was a runner, we know that. If the creep saw her in shorts, he wouldn't be able to control himself."
"There are shorts and running bras in her closets. We don't know yet if any are missing. The cleaning woman might be able to tell us. Chances are a busy professional woman like Vinney might not do her own laundry," Gwen said
"Has this cleaning lady been located yet?" Chris asked.
"Yes. Her name is Mary Lunn. She claims to have been very fond of her employer. I'm going to question her when we're finished."
"We are finished." Chris pulled back his shirt cuff to glance at his watch. "The Chief has called a press conference for a half hour from now. He wants me there."
"Lucky you," said Gwen, grinning.
chapter three
Later that day, alone once more, Chris pondered the possibilities. At this stage, there were three. A sex killing by a serial killer. That's what the evidence pointed to. Except for the cross being on the wrong hand. And the breast implants left untouched. The killer couldn't have missed them. He must have felt them when he was slicing off her nipple. Everything else was consistent with the previous murders. The second possibility was a bitter ex-lover. Adrienne Vinney had been a remarkably attractive woman. The cleaning woman might be able to fill them in on that side of the victim's life. If there was one. In her mid-thirties, a partner in a prestigious law firm, she could have been wrapped up in her career to the exclusion of everything else. Her work as a corporate lawyer was the third possibility, and this was his line of country. Since her identity was already in the public domain, he was free to talk to those who might have known her. Chris picked up the phone.
Tom Forsyth's expression was bemused as he watched Chris fill out the bar chit in the Petroleum Club's lounge. "You're sure as hell not the average policeman, with your membership in the Petroleum Club and—"
"It's very useful for making contacts," Chris interjected to forestall any further discussion of his lifestyle.
"Of which you make very good use." Forsyth took an appreciative sip of his martini. "Is this a purely social occasion, or are you here to swab me down about the delectable, recently deceased Adrienne Vinney?"
His friend's casual, almost light-hearted reference to the gruesome murder surprised Chris, but he made no mention of that as he replied, "A bit of both, actually. It's been a while since we've had a drink together, and I'm sure you would have known the delectable Adrienne, as you call her. You were both in the same line of work."
"Were. Funny how the past tense bring things home, isn't it? Well, you're right. She and I did work together on a number of corporate files, representing different parties to the transaction. Mergers and acquisitions mostly. We also did a couple of income trust conversions. In a nutshell, she was very bright, worked like hell, and was a pleasure to work with. A couple of her partners at McKinley are good buddies of mine and they tell me she is—was, rather—one of the highest billers in the firm. Right up there with old Pettigrew himself."
"Have you worked on any files with her recently?"
"Not since the Freeholders royalty dispute six months ago. We were on the same side in that one." Forsyth's smile was reminiscent. "We won a million-dollar settlement for our clients. The fair Adrienne showed no mercy. The lady is one tough negotiator."
Chris could see that Tom was growing restive under the questioning, but he persisted, "Can you think of anyone who might have thought she was too good a negotiator? Someone who felt she had cheated him out of his rights, and resented her for it?"
"No, I can't. And that's highly unlikely in any case. Her practice is exclusively corporate law: mergers and acquisitions, public share offerings, that sort of thing. No disputes. No adverse interests. Just a matter of satisfying the security commissions and stock exchanges. Difficult, I grant you, and frustrating at times, but not adversarial, if that's where you going."
"I'm not going anywhere in particular. I'm just casting about. And I appreciate your patience. Bear with me while we have another martini."
"This one is on me." Tom handed a chit to a passing server and tilted back in his chair to regard Chris with a quizzical look. "How come this interest in her legal career? I thought she was a victim of our serial killer. I can't see him being interested in what she did for a living. It would be that awesome body of hers that would turn him on."
In point of fact, none of the killer's previous victims had been what you would call ravishing beauties. Young, wholesome, and healthy, yes, but nothing like the Vinney woman. Except maybe for the third one, the one with the breast implants. But even she wasn't in the same class as Adrienne Vinney. No need to mention that, though. "How well did you know Adrienne, Tom?"
"What kind of question is that? I'm a married man!" Tom was making a joke out of it, but there was an under-tone of something else—regret, maybe?—in his voice.
"You wish." Chris grinned, keeping it light.
"You're not asking these questions for the fun of it, are you?"
"No. I'm investigating a murder."
"So you are. Well, what do you want to know? There's not much I can tell you."
"Any information on her personal life would be helpful. Boyfriends, girlfriends. That sort of thing."
"You'll have to ask someone else about her friends. But what I can tell you is that men were a distant second to her career. Very distant." Forsyth sighed. "You know Scott Millard, don't you? The criminal lawyer?"
"He's cross-examined me a couple of times on the witness stand. He's very good. Very well prepared. No wonder he gets so many high-profile cases."
"He speaks highly of you, too. He admires the way you analyze situations. Says you make a deadly witness for the prosecution."
"You and Scott are good friends, aren't you?"
"Have been for years. We play squash together twice a week at the Glencoe. He almost always wins. And we're both Benchers of the Law Society."
Tom paused, and Chris prompted, "You were saying?"
"This is so far out I feel silly even mentioning it. Scott and Adrienne had an affair, but she broke it off not long before we worked together on the Freeholder claim. She never mentioned it. She wouldn't. But I heard all about it from Scott. He was devastated. I even managed to beat him a few times at squash. He hated that. He hates to lose."
"That's what makes him a good defence counsel. You say he was devastated?"
"Absolutely. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it was all over. I think he expected to marry her. That's how serious he was."
"Do you know how long their affair lasted?"
"Six or seven months. They weren't living together or anything like that. I can't see Adrienne ever living with anyone. Do you intend to interview Scott?"
"As soon as I can arrange it. It's just a process of elimination."
"I would just as soon that Scott doesn't know I was the one who told you about him and Adrienne."
"He won't. Their relationship must have been known to a number of people. It won't be necessary to identify my source. I'll simply be relying on the well-known ‘general knowledge.'"
Calgary's brief rush hour was over by the time the two friends left the club and stood for a moment on the sidewalk outside its 5th Avenue entrance.
"I can see the thrill of the chase in your eyes." Forsyth smiled as they shook hands. "That's why my offer of a partnership in the firm goes begging."
"It's not so much the thrill of the chase, as you put it, as it is finding the correct answer."
As always, Chris took pleasure in walking home along 4th Street,