Authors: John Cutter
She didn’t follow up with the obvious question, but held his eyes for just a moment, long enough to make him think his comment had interested her in a decidedly non-professional way.
“Adam,” she said, appearing to brush off whatever thought had been going through her mind, “I want to apologize for the behavior of my colleagues. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go; this is meant to be a friendly conversation.”
“I’m glad they sent in somebody friendlier, then,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.
She looked up at him again, pretending to be momentarily mesmerized by his charms.
“Well,” she said more slowly, “I think they maybe just don’t understand people like you—”
“What do you mean?” he interrupted.
“Well, just someone
with
it all: I mean, you have money, and power, and looks”—she appeared to catch herself in a smile—“I mean, most of the people we talk to aren’t, uh, quite so—”
“I get it,” he said, smiling. This was obviously what he was used to: insecure girls who stroked his ego and went weak in the knees when he paid them any attention. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss—”
“Tina,” she blurted out; then seemed to recover. “Koreski. Tina Koreski.”
“Tina,” he said. “Lovely to meet you. You seem so
young
to be doing this, Tina.”
To cover her repulsion, she giggled a little and looked away, playing with her hair. “I mean, I guess,” she said. “This is sort of a trial run for me—”
“A trial run?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He looked at her warily. “Doesn’t sound like they’re taking this very seriously.”
“Well, I mean, it’s not like you’re under
arrest
or anything. Then it’d be different. And besides—” She faltered a bit, then gave a
What the hell
kind of laugh. “I sort of asked.”
He smiled again, and she knew his ego was hooked.
“Okay, Tina,” he said, giving her the up-and-down again. “Is it
Officer
Tina?”
“Detective,” she said.
“Wow, okay—Detective.” He raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean you still carry handcuffs?”
“Of course,” she laughed, then lowered her voice as she met his eyes again. “Day and night.”
“All right then,
Detective
Tina,” he said, “what do you want to talk to me about?”
She appeared to shake herself back to the job at hand. “Well, right
now
,” she said with a breath, “these women.” She nodded toward the pictures left on the table.
“Ugh,
these
bitches again,” he said languidly. “Well, go ahead.”
“Bitches?”
He sighed, catching himself. “They just
look
like bitches, is all; the type of women I’ve met a million of. That type of women, they never get me. Not many of them do, though—not like
you
seem to.” He smiled again, obviously used to this sort of thing working.
She smiled back. “Well, if you had to pick one of them out as most attractive, which would it be?”
He laughed. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Just
answer
it,” she said with a flirty laugh.
He looked at the photos again and picked up victim number four, Giovanna Palmiere.
“I don’t know about
most
attractive, but I can tell you,
this
one sure isn’t my speed.” He tossed the photo aside.
“All right, down to three, then. Which one?”
“I don’t know; they’re all pretty much the same to me.”
“Seriously? You’re telling me you don’t find
any
of them more attractive than the others? Don’t you have a type?”
He laughed, thinking he’d drawn her out. “Not in these photos,” he said; then added, “in this
room
, maybe.” Thinking he’d made her speechless with so brazen a come-on, he let it hang for a moment before going on. “To be honest with you, they all look like nasty, snobby bitches to me. I wouldn’t kick them out of bed, but none of them really do it for me.”
“All right,” she said. “I mean, you have to admit, they’re beautiful women.”
“Sure, they’re fine,” he said. “That shirt you’re wearing is doing more for me right now, though.”
She looked down, acting surprised, and went to button the top buttons.
“No, no,” he said, “leave ’em. You look great.”
She pretended to be flattered and sat up straight again, leaving the buttons undone. This guy was going to be putty in her hands.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said coyly. “What do you like to do when you come to the city?”
Morrison and the Coke Brothers watched from the other side of the two-way mirror. None of them could believe what was happening. Certainly none of them would be capable of interrogating anyone in this fashion. Yet they were all impressed. Unorthodox as it was, Tina’s improvised method had already brought out a few very interesting statements from Adam Rutherford—including an offhand mention of 63
rd
Street as a place where he’d parked his car, and an admission that he’d been to Jamaica Estates, apparently to visit a friend whose last name and address he couldn’t recall—and through it all, she hadn’t missed a beat. Better still, despite her traumatic past, even Rutherford’s most insulting comments and egregious pick-up lines had failed to throw her off or make her visibly uncomfortable; she’d somehow managed to weave them seamlessly into the increasing flirtation between them. And after hours of it, she still showed no sign of slowing.
“So, can you remember the last time you were in Manhattan?” she was now asking.
“Oh, I can’t remember the exact date, but it was a Wednesday.”
“Can you remember roughly the date range?”
“January—somewhere between the second and the tenth.”
“Did you come alone?”
“No, Brian came with me.”
This statement put both of them in the city during homicide number three. Tina brushed over it with a flirtation. “No lady friends?”
Rutherford bit. “None that I can remember.”
“Good,” she said faux-self-consciously. “And how about before
that—do you remember when you were there last?”
“We were in around Christmastime.”
“Do you remember what days, specifically?”
“Let’s see: we came down just before the twenty-fifth, and were there for a couple of days.”
Another bingo. This put both of them in the city during the Sutton Place and Jamaica Estates murders. The guy wasn’t getting any less cocky, that was for sure. Koreski remembered from her training that a lot of serial killers believed they were smarter than the police—or anyone else, for that matter—and often derived enjoyment even from getting caught, in that they were able to push the envelope with their adversaries just a little more.
“How about after that last time in January—did you visit the city after that?”
“No, that was the last time we were there.”
She noticed that he was looking again at the pictures spread out on the table, including the more gruesome crime-scene photos. It wasn’t lost on her that he invariably spent more time looking at those pictures than at the ones taken of the victims before they were killed. It seemed to her the appropriate time to start giving him some hardball questions—they’d just have to be gone about very delicately.
“Tina,” he said, interrupting her train of thought, “I need to use the men’s room, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course,” she smiled. “I’ll have someone escort you.”
“You could always escort me yourself,” he suggested with a sleazy smile. “You know, hold it for me.”
She laughed lightly, looking down in an effort to appear charmed. “I’d love to, but I don’t think my boss would appreciate that,” she said. “Just give me a sec; I’ll grab someone for you.”
She stepped out to ask two of the BPD detectives to escort him. When they’d brought him to the restroom, Morrison emerged from the next room where he’d been watching the interrogation, and called her out into the hallway.
“Tina, you’re doing great in there,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Cap—that means a lot, coming from you.”
“Forget me,” he chuckled. “Kasak and Marchioni can’t stop talking about how well you’re working this guy.”
Koreski smiled. “For real?”
“No bullshit. They’ll probably never tell you, but I wanted to let you know. You’re gaining some serious points. And by the way,” he added, “here’s some news that might help you. Medveded got the other guy to confess to everything—including a homicide in La Jolla, California, months before they started their killing spree out here.”
“Are you kidding me?
California?”
“Yeah. We already spoke to San Diego PD, and everything Brian told us matches one of their unsolved homicides to the letter.”
“Unbelievable. I’ll definitely use that—thanks, Cap. I’d better get back in there.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Keep up the good work, Detective!”
She went back into the room and waited for Rutherford to be brought back in.
La Jolla, California—!
She’d have to be careful with how she played
that
particular hand, but it was undoubtedly information she could use.
After a much longer interval than she’d expected, Rutherford reentered the room, and the two detectives closed the door behind him.
“You know, I missed you in there, Tina,” he said in an oily voice when he’d sat. “It wasn’t the same without you. You should’ve
come
with me.”
He winked as this last emphasis passed his lips, and a sudden lightheadedness came over Detective Koreski. Where had she heard that before—? At once it hit her. That filthy hotel room. They were the very words
he’d
said to her, that fat, disgusting pig from Scarsdale, as he pressed his weight down on her, the cheap bedcovers scratching against her face…
With an effort, she snapped back to the present.
“Listen,” she said, striving to keep the flirtatious edge in her voice,
“All jokes aside, I have to ask you something.”
“No jokes here,” he said, still smiling. “Go ahead, Tina.”
“You’ve said these women look like bitches, and I believe it,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Based on our time together today, I think I see what the problem was.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You’re not a man to be disrespected, and they disrespected you.”
Adam Rutherford sat stock-still, the smile still hovering on his face in an eerie mask of self-satisfaction.
“Now look, this is between us,” she went on. “When you went to the bathroom I told them we were done. I’m supposed to be finishing up with you now. Just tell me, because I need to know: am I understanding you right? Just yes or no; you don’t have to say anything.”
After what seemed an eternity, he gave just the quickest hint of a nod. She moved her chair closer to him. “I knew I did,” she said quickly, as though in a rush of excitement. “I felt it when you came in. You’re not a man to be fucked with, are you, Adam?”
“No, I’m not,” he said, the smile unmoving.
“No, it’s obvious,” she said. “I almost wish I’d been there, for—but we don’t have to talk about that, if you don’t—”
“They didn’t know what hit ’em,” he whispered proudly, his eyes gleaming.
She was almost too shocked to respond. Fortunately, the energy of her performance kept her going.
“Of course they didn’t, the stupid bitches,” she said with a little laugh. “They didn’t know the first thing about a man—what you do, what you need.”
“Are you saying
you
do?” he asked.
“Come on, Adam,” she said, her voice sultry. “Of
course
I do. I know all
sorts
of things men need.”
“Yeah? Big words, Tina.”
“When we get out of here, I’ll show you. I do know how to find you, you know.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” he smirked. “Crazy little bitch, aren’t you?”
“The craziest,” she said. “Bet you didn’t think some of us were cops, huh?”
“No, I
know
some of you are,” he said. “I’ve got first-hand experience.”
Yeah, I’m real sure, you little shit,
she thought. “Well, you don’t need to try to make me jealous,” she said. “I’m above that bullshit. But you
have
to tell me—I have to know—which was the best?”
“The best?”
“Yeah, the best,” she insisted. “
You
know—the most fun, the most…
right
. The Queens bitch looks like she was the most stuck-up one, to me.”
“Completely stuck-up,” he agreed. “Living in that big house, driving a fancy car—all that, just because she spread her legs for some rich guy like me. She didn’t know shit about having money, or power—none of it. Absolutely no respect.”
Koreski couldn’t believe it. After hours of dancing around every detail, he’d opened up like a fire hydrant on a hot day. Thrilled, she pressed on. “But was the older one better? The one on Sutton Place? I’d assume she’d have at least known better.”
He sneered. “Right, you’d think. But no—stupid whore. But we had fun with her.” He sounded as though he’d forgotten she was there. “She deserved it. The other one, she didn’t do anything, but what the hell? The women in that neighborhood are all the same.”
“You mean this one,” Koreski said, pointing at the victim from 63
rd
Street.
“Yeah, her,” he said dismissively. “Just the wrong place, wrong time, really—for her, I mean. Brian and I were exactly where we wanted to be.”
“And this one?” she said, pushing the last photo toward him, of victim number four. “Another rich bitch, like the others?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never seen that one.”
For an instant her confusion got the better of her. “You mean—you didn’t kill her?” she asked.
It was a slight slip, but the effect on Rutherford was catastrophic. In an instant his eyes went dark.
“You fucking
bitch,”
he snarled. “What—?” she began.
“You fucking
lied
to me, you little bitch,” he said. “You’re no better than any of these whores!”