Page 97 of Random in Death
“And what, Lieutenant, does that tell you?”
“He goes to a fancy-pants private school or he’s homeschooled with fancy-pants private tutors. Maybe a combo. Whoever’s in charge of him doesn’t see who he is. They only see what he wants them to see. He knows how to present himself to them—that’s easy. Smart, quiet, polite, well-dressed.”
“Trustworthy,” Roarke added.
“That’s key, yeah. So they’re not poking around in his stuff, demanding what he did when he went out. He can run his experiments, hell, maybe grow his own poppies.
“He’s got plenty of time to himself,” Eve murmured. “Plenty of time on his own. Nobody says, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a slice after school,’ or ‘Let’s party at my house.’”
“I’d have been lost without my mates as a boy.”
“You were getting your ass kicked daily. We both know how that feels. He’s not abused, not technically neglected. He’s just not seen. He’s cerebral, not athletic. Not that athletes can’t have good brains, but he’s short for his age. Maybe puny. Not chunky—kids notice that, too, so I think the wit would’ve said porky white kid, or something like that.”
“He had to use his feet to boost up to the window.”
Eve gestured with her fork. “Exactly. No core. He had to use his feet, enough pressure with them, to leave the marks on the wall.”
“There was cruelty in the entire thing, but an extra flourish of cruelty in the roofie and bacteria. Your sexual elements. If you’re right, and you no doubt are, and he’s particularly bright, knowledgeable, he added those for spite. He’d know the police lab would analyze the formula he used.”
“Making his point. The cops are scratching their heads, the media’s in an uproar.” Eve gestured up with her hand. “Everybody’s paying attention now.”
“He doesn’t think you’ll find him.”
After eating the last bite, Eve set down her fork. “No?”
“He’s so much smarter than you, than anyone with a badge. Cops are just low-paid public servants, after all. When they catch criminals, it’s only because the criminals are even less bright than they are.
“Add the arrogance of youth, Eve, to the rest. And all that testosterone. The only way he can satisfy his needs is using his own hand. These girls who don’t see him, don’t want him? They’re idiots who’d rather spread their legs for the barely literate jock because he can throw a football, or the bad boy in cheap boots and fake leather sneaking smokes in the loo.”
Fascinated, Eve leaned back. “Keep going.”
“You were a teenage girl. Would you have seen his type?”
“I did my best not to see anybody too close. You look too close, they look back. I didn’t even consider banging anybody until I was in the Academy.”
He blinked at her. “I don’t believe you’ve mentioned that before.”
“Not worth mentioning. But I’m not a good judge of what a typical teenage girl thinks about sex. And this is about him, and you seem to have an interesting take.”
“I knew his type back then. Not the murderous, but those who felt entitled to what wasn’t coming their way. You’re a bit obsessed with sex at that age—well, more than a bit.”
After picking up his wine, he leaned back.
“But there’s a lightness to it, an excitement, a wonder the first time you have a girl’s breast in your hand that doesn’t lessen with the next time. But for this type, the obsession darkens and hardens.”
“And the girls are to blame.”
“Of course. Who else? They’re frigid or teases or ballbusters, and their very lack of any respect only solidifies the resentment. What they want is subjugation, as the female’s inferior, a vessel for their use. So they hate and demean. But under all that, I think, is fear.”
“Fear of what?”
“The female, and their mystery, their otherness, and most of all, their power. I think, don’t you, that some of those who start out like this, when and if they find a woman, they become abusers. Because the fear’s always there, under it all. And the need,” he added, “to prove they’re in charge.”
“Yeah, some of them, but I’ve never wound it around just this way. I’m giving you some of your ‘intrigued.’ So you knew some of the type.”
“I don’t recall any being particularly bright, as this one.”
“You wouldn’t have had any trouble getting a girl’s tit in your hand.”