‘I think you do.’ Emma bites her lip, then decides to go for it. ‘Marlowe Drury – your first victim. He was a friend of your sister. You gave him a soporific and then cut him open under a tree. The investigators described the homicide scene as a “display.” ’
‘Oh,that.’
Emma pushes on, persistent. ‘Flora Dearborn and Gregory Northam, in a wilderness area near Exeter. You arranged them on a picnic blanket, in a kind of embrace. That’s when the press started calling you the Artist.’
She leaves out the part about how the intestines of the two victims were twined in the embrace, too. It’s not necessary to give Simon information he already knows.
Simon makes a snort, but his expression is of someone who’s been found out. ‘All right. Point taken. Tell me about Pittsburgh.’
Emma feels a soft fluttering in her stomach, like you get after you bet big and win. ‘Three girls, so far. There are some resemblances to the Huxton case.’
‘Interesting.’ Simon tilts his head, presses one forefinger against his bottom lip. ‘I can see why the FBI called for you. But don’t you get tired of it, Emma? Being dragged into Quantico every time they need a bloodhound with a good whiff of the scent? It must be hard to concentrate on the smell of the quarry with all that police machismo radiating around you, brimming with repressed aggression …’
Dealing with Simon Gutmunsson can be tedious sometimes. Emma forces her expression to stay the same. ‘Can we simply talk about this case?’
‘Did the FBI tell you theyneededyou?’
Emma’s tone is flat. ‘They told me that my life was at risk.’
Simon makes a rude noise. ‘Pfft. That old chestnut.’
‘I don’t think I’m in danger,’ she says evenly, ‘but I’d rather be with the FBI, and helping solve the case faster, than worrying about it under guard somewhere.’
His smile turns vulpine. ‘You turned them down, didn’t you? They tried to recruit you, and you turned them down.’
‘Yes.’ She makes an effort to relax her posture.
Simon leans forward, against the bars. ‘I’d very much like to know why.’
Emma controls her instinct to recoil when he comes closer. She’s glad for the gap between the yellow line and Simon’s cell. ‘And I’d very much like you to tell me what you think the posing of the victims signifies.’
‘The posing is the primary difference between our new friend and your old friend Daniel Huxton, isn’t it.’
‘Daniel Huxton was never my friend,’ Emma says, unhesitating.
‘Would you shoot him, if he was in front of you now? You’ve learned to shoot since September of ’79.’
She pushes against the invisible weight on her chest. ‘What does the posing mean, Simon?’
Simon straightens and looks toward the other side of the cell, seeming to consider his reply. Emma knows he’ll only tell her a deconstructed version of the truth. But somewhere along the way, he’ll drop pearls of information she can use. It’ll be up to her to sniff them out and grab for them.
‘Posing has a number of meanings,’ he says finally, ‘and those meanings depend, to a large extent, on the personality of the individual artist. Posing originates in fantasy, of course – fantasies of control, fantasies of power. The artist seeks to exercise control over the subject, or the investigation, or both. A certain percentage of posed crime scenes are designed to divert attention to an alternative suspect.’
Emma squints. ‘To confuse investigators?’
Simon smirks. ‘Hmm. It’s a bit gauche, isn’t it? It happens, though. Along with a percentage of posed scenes that are about controlling the subject even in death – to make them into exactly the thing you think they should be.’
‘I can see how you would get off on that.’ She has a policy of speaking honestly with him as much as possible.
He examines his nails. ‘I am a sadist, true, but I don’t really “get off on it” in the sense you mean. I find it heightening, but not arousing. My creations were never really part of a sexualized power fantasy, although there are people who are considerably less particular.’
‘This case involves sexual violence.’
‘Yes, well. Is he mutilating them in some way? There’s a seventy-one percent chance that he is.’
‘Yes,’ she says. She wants to know how he knows this, but she doesn’t want to interrupt him mid-flow.
‘Some artists pose the subject as a form of retaliation,’ Simon explains. ‘To degrade them. I admit that many of my models were people I didn’t particularly like.’
