Free The Way You Look Tonight by Richard Madeley Page B

into as much detail as you can, please.’
    She stared calmly at the younger Kennedy, sat back down on her beanbag and gestured to him to do the same. ‘How does he kill them, exactly? No, wait. Whatever he does to them, before and
after, it’s the same methodology every time, isn’t it?’
    Bobby Kennedy’s eyes widened at the abrupt change in her, and her acuity. He sank back down on the floor opposite her as before, impressed by this sudden cool focus. Maybe his
brother’s instincts were right. Maybe she
would
make some kind of difference down there.
    ‘Yes,’ he nodded, hugging his knees again. ‘He abducts them, always in the evening. The local police think he uses something such as chloroform to take them and to keep them
quiet. He hides them somewhere for a few hours, and then he moves them down to the water.’
    ‘By which you mean the sea?’ Stella interrupted again.
    ‘The ocean of course, yes.’
    ‘Why do they believe he does that?’
    ‘He likes peace and quiet, they think. No one’s out there at that time of night. He steals a shallow-draught boat, usually a small skiff, so he can get right out into the mangrove
swamps. Once he’s there he lets them come round before he . . .’ He regarded Stella cautiously. ‘Of course, I don’t have the entire picture just yet. All this is still
coming in to us here.’
    ‘Please don’t pussyfoot around. Just tell me everything you know. Isn’t that why you got me in here?’
    Jack chuckled softly. ‘That’s you told off, Bobby.’
    Stella wheeled round. ‘I
beg
your pardon
?’
    ‘Ah, nothing.’ The President suddenly became fascinated by the activity on the beach outside.
    His brother didn’t smile. ‘I’ll tell you the little I do know, Miss Arnold – but I honestly haven’t received anything like a full briefing yet.’ He made a
vague gesture. ‘We’ve been running to catch up here.’
    ‘Of course . . . look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude just now. And I do wish you’d call me Stella.’
    ‘I’ll try to remember . . . anyway . . .’ Bobby took a deep breath. ‘It’s pretty much the death of a thousand cuts, apparently. He keeps them tied up while he takes
some sort of knife to them.’
    Stella nodded. ‘And the wounds are always the same, aren’t they? On all four of his victims, I mean.’
    ‘So I’m told. But you’ll see the police photographs, of course, if you agree to go down there for us.’
    Stella looked surprised.
    ‘What do you mean, “if ”? Of course I’m going down there. This is absolutely fascinating.’
    The brothers exchanged glances.
    ‘You must understand, Stella,’ Bobby said after a moment, ‘that you wouldn’t have any kind of, ah,
official
role in any of this. It would have to be completely
informal. You’d be working with but
under
a senior FBI agent. And you wouldn’t be placed in the slightest danger. You’d be there as a special advisor, working in the
background. I hope that’s clear to you.’
    Stella brooded for a few moments, hardly listening to him. She absently stroked one bare arm and contemplated the floor. ‘You’re right,’ she said at last, looking up again.
‘I suppose I should save my detailed questions for when I get to Florida. But just tell me a couple more things now, if you can. It’ll be a big help to me in arranging my thoughts on
the way down there. How exactly does he kill them, at the very end?’
    Bobby looked sidelong at his brother, who gave an imperceptible shrug.
    ‘Well, OK . . . it’s a knife to the heart. But only after he’s put them through unmitigated hell.’
    ‘Does he gag them?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Ah. He likes to listen, then.’ Stella chewed her bottom lip. ‘Anything else of significance?’
    Bobby Kennedy nodded.
    ‘I was coming to that, Miss Arn— Stella.’ He drew a long breath, tilting his head back while he exhaled.
    ‘Yes. He leaves what you might call, ah, a very personal signature.’

16
    That night Stella