Page 12 of The Perfect Crime

“The killer combined a series of chemicals that might seem harmless on their own.But in concert, they would have the desired effect.The combination would be odorless and tasteless in smaller amounts.And small amounts are all that would be needed to do what the police report says happened.”

“Are you saying that this poison was designed to work in this specific manner?”

“Quite likely,” Roth said.“That, or someone stumbled onto it as a lucky accident.Hard to be certain.Either way, it’s nasty stuff.It wouldn’t have an obvious immediate effect.But within about fifteen minutes, the victim would begin to feel some discomfort.They might dismiss it as just starting to get sick or, as it initially seemed in this case, food poisoning.But at some point between a half hour and forty-five minutes after ingesting the poison, the pain would become more acute.”

“How long after that before they are at risk of death?”Jessie asked.

“That’s the most insidious thing, Ms.Hunt,” Dr.Roth said, turning her attention away from the whiteboard to stare directly at her.“If brought to a hospital and administered the proper medication, this poison isn’t necessarily fatal.The odds of recovery are quite good.But if untreated, the victim has about an hour and a half, maybe two at the outside, before the poison’s effects are irreversible.The person who did this must have known that.That’s why he stuck around until it was too late to do anything.”

“That fits,” Jessie mused aloud.“The Whitakers got home from the restaurant around nine.He was probably poisoned sometime in the half hour prior to that.And we know that he was dead by 10:41.”

“Sounds about right,” Roth agreed.

“So what kind of person would have the sort of knowledge needed to ‘create’ a poison.Are we talking someone who’d require medical expertise?”

"That would certainly make it easier for them," Roth answered."A doctor, nurse, or pharmacist would be a prime suspect in my book.But it doesn't have to be a medical professional.A scientist, or even just someone with an affinity for chemistry who did the required research, might be able to create the right concoction.Hell, even Monty over there could probably do it if he was more patient and less sloppy in his work."

Jessie looked over at the lab assistant, who appeared offended by the accusation that he might be a killer.

“I’m not sloppy,” he said petulantly.

Jessie found it mildly amusing that he was more hurt at the attack on his work habits than the suggestion that he could be a murderer.

“For the record, where were you last night, Monty?”Dr.Roth demanded, appearing to be enjoying herself for the first time in the conversation.

“I was at a double bill of the Andrew GarfieldSpider-manmovies,” he answered immediately.“I dressed up as The Lizard.He’s the villain in the first one.”

“Of course you did,” Roth said, before turning back to Jessie.“Well, I guess he’s off the hook then.”

Jessie was tempted to ask Roth where she was last night, not because she suspected the woman.They were confident the killer was male.But she thought the doctor deserved to be knocked down a peg or two, for both her general arrogance and her treatment of Monty.But she held her tongue.She might have more questions for Roth, and it wouldn’t do any good to alienate her.

“Are these components difficult to get?”she asked instead.

“Unfortunately, not as difficult as they should be,” Roth said.“I’ve never looked into it, but I’d be willing to bet that a quick hunt on the dark web would get your killer what he needed.”

Jessie nodded.That was doubly dispiriting.Not only would it make it nearly impossible to track down the source of the poison, but it could also mean something far worse.

They didn’t yet know if this was a one-off attack focused specifically on the Whitakers.If it was, then as awful as what happened last night had been, they could breathe a little easier while they searched for the culprit.

But if this was part of some larger mission, if the killer had more attacks in mind, then it sounded like he wouldn't have any trouble finding more of his weapon of choice.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He watched the news on his office TV, so focused that he didn’t realize that he hadn’t blinked in several minutes.

He didn’t want to miss a single second of the report on what he’d done.The anchor talked about how a well-off West Adams district couple was the victim of an unusual home invasion.

“Strangely, nothing was stolen,” she said.“But according to authorities, James Whitaker was poisoned while his wife, Sarah, was tied up and forced to observe as her husband slowly died.The assailant then left the home, leaving Mrs.Whitaker alone.After taking several hours to free herself, she called the police.Other than suspecting that the intruder was male, authorities offered no details on his identity or motive.”

He smiled to himself as the anchor moved on to the next story.It was only then that he realized his eyes were incredibly dry, and he got up to find some drops.

Of course, that dyed-blonde anchor wouldn't have any idea why he did what he did.But he would have thought the cops would have a better sense of his motive.The fact that they didn't made him even more certain of his plans.He would need to have another go at it tonight in order to help them better understand.

After putting the drops in his eyes, he closed them tight and allowed his mind to drift back to last night.He clearly recalled seeing the Whitakers at Daddio, watching as they acted all lovey-dovey at their little table, oblivious to the impact their public display of affection might have on others.

Well, they’d learned the hard way that their actions weren’t appreciated.They were the first to pay the price for their indiscretion.But they wouldn’t be the last.

CHAPTER EIGHT

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