“He could have had help. Or hired somebody.”
George mulled this over. “He could. Why did he wait so long, though? Why didn’t he kill them in their prime?”
“Perhaps he wanted to wait to make sure they couldn’t be traced back to him? You saw and heard him when you told him how we found him. He hadn’t thought anybody would make the connection.”
“True. By waiting he eliminated the chances of being found out.” George drew a red circle around Gartner’s name. “Could he have used a contract killer?”
“That’s what I would have done if I were him.” Andi was now pulling at the spring inside the pen, turning it into a straight piece of cheap metal. He had blue stains on his fingers. “Then again, if I were him, I would have hired a contract killer much sooner and told him to make it look like an accident or natural causes. Plus, a contract killer would never go through the trouble of tampering with their beer, then hauling them up to the lake and drowning them.”
“Unless he was told and paid to do so.” George tapped the pen against his chin. “Until now we have assumed they were roofied to keep them docile, but what if that’s not the case? Or more precisely, what if that’s just a nice bonus and the whole thing is more about symbolism?”
“Keep talking.” Andi was done with the spring and now busy pulverizing the plastic casing by breaking it repeatedly with his hands.
“Do you agree that this wasn’t a murder on impulse?”
“Absolutely. It has none of the classical signs, and the insects didn’t report any of the anger that usually goes with this kind of murder. Which makes it so hard to distinguish between all the people who have been at the cabin.”
“If a murder is committed in cold blood, it’s either done by a pro or well planned. In this case, it could be both. What if Gartner gave the contract killer he hired clear instructions how to take the victims out?”
“I’m with you, George. But why have them roofied? What kind of symbolism is that? Wouldn’t Gartner rather have their backs broken?”
“Too obvious. On the off chance the connection between him and the victims would be found. Perhaps he wanted them to be as helpless as he felt back then? He said it himself—he had no money, no connections. There was no other choice than to accept whatever the fathers of the victims were offering.”
“I could get behind that reasoning. Can you also explain why he had them brought to the small lake? If he wanted them found, the probability would have been higher in Lake Moultrie. It was pure chance we found them when we did.” Andi was done with the plastic, his fingers pushing the sad remnants of a once proud pen over his desk, using the straightened spring to plow lines into the bits.
“Don’t forget, Berta said they would probably have found them eventually because the lake is too small to hold three corpses without the poison affecting the surroundings. Perhaps that was factored in?” George drew a line from Gartner’s name outward, made a circle with a question mark and wrote “contract killer” into it.
“To get rid of the ketamine. Makes sense. And Gartner would have the means to find a pro to do the killing for him.”
“You don’t sound entirely convinced.” Actually, George liked that about his partner. Andi was a skeptic and always willing to poke holes in theories. Others’ as well as his own. Andi reached for the bin next to his desk to sweep the dead pen into it.
“I’m still a bit hung up about the time factor. Even if Gartner wanted the victims’ deaths to have symbolic value, he could have had that sooner. And a pro would have no problem hiding the bodies long enough for any evidence to be gone or to see to it there wasn’t any to begin with. So why now? What has changed?”
“That’s something we definitely have to look into.” George drew a clock next to Gartner’s name. “We also have to ask Shireen to search the darknet for any contracts on the victims.”
“She’s going to be so happy with us.” Andi yawned. A quick glance at his watch told George it was time to call it quits for the day. He capped the marker.
“Let’s get you home. You can send Shireen a text message in the car.”
Andi grinned. “Good thinking, man. She won’t be able to complain to us until tomorrow morning.”
After shutting their PCs down, they went out into George’s car. The drive to James Island was swift. Andi looked like he would fall right into his bed when he left the car, and George had to suppress the urge to follow his partner into the house and make sure he got upstairs all right. There were days when Andi allowed and appreciated such a gesture, and there were days like this one, when he didn’t. Being able to tell them apart was one of the greatest accomplishments George had made in the past months. After the door to Andi’s house was closed, George turned the car to drive back to his own home, deep in thought. Not only about the case but also about Andi and where their partnership was going. George was as good at avoiding topics he didn’t like as Andi, and just like Andi, he had moments of weakness or clarity—he wasn’t sure which term he wanted applied—where he had to face the facts.
The partnership with Andi was the deepest one he ever had with a partner. George was aware the main catalyst for that was Andi’sgeschenk, the huge, unbelievable secret George was now helping him to hide. Such a thing tended to bind people together. But that wasn’t all there was to it, which worried George. He genuinely cared for Andi, not only as his partner but also as a friend. He wasn’t sure if Andi in turn saw him as a friend. He wasn’t even sure if Andi was familiar with the concept. George could also feel how Andi was trying to maintain a certain distance between them. It didn’t take a genius to realize Andi was waiting for George to leave him. Which he would do. Definitely. He had a career to make, goals to achieve. Yes, he had.
George thumped his forehead against the steering wheel, hitting the horn in the process. Luckily, he was already parked. A quick glance around showed nobody was paying him any attention. Sighing, he got out of the car. For a long while, he just stood next to it, wondering why what had been meant to be just another stepstone in his career was suddenly becoming so much more. He needed to go on a run, he decided, to clear his thoughts. The air was still reasonably warm for late fall, and it would be light outside for at least another hour and a half. With new determination, George went into his apartment, put on his running gear, grabbed a bottle of water, put in his earbuds, and started his favorite running music, a vicious mix of German Power Metal bands and some Epica and Nightwish thrown in for good measure. His feet hit the asphalt outside his apartment, and for the next hour George lost himself in the pounding of his heart and the steady rhythm of his feet eating the miles. Back home, he managed a shower and dinner before the thoughts came back with a vengeance. The whole thing had been bothering him on and off for the last three months. It seemed it was time to grab the bull by its horns. George knew he had to talk to somebody about it, and that somebody was his brother Daniel, a member of the MP and currently stationed in Hawaii. He answered the phone on the third ring.
“George, my sweet little brother! I thought you had gone and died in a ditch.”
“You could have called as well, you know.”
“Yeah, I just wanted to give you some mom vibes here.” Daniel sounded as if he was in a ridiculously good mood. Well, George could remedy that. “How are you?”
“If everything were peachy, I wouldn’t be calling.”
“I’m fine, thank you very much.”
“You’re in Hawaii.”
