Postcard killers

Chapter 117

Dessie opened her eyes and looked deep into his bright blue ones. They crackled with a warmth that left her breathless. And more confused than ever.

"You're here," she whispered. "It wasn't a dream. I'm so glad. I'm happy."

He laughed. His teeth were white, a bit crooked. His hair was sweaty, sticking out in every direction. He sank back down on the bed and pul ed her to him.

"Why did you come back?" she asked.

He kissed her and then grew suddenly serious.

"Several reasons," he said. "You were the most important one."

She hit him playful y on the shoulder with her fist.

"Liar," she said.

"How did you make out in Denmark and Norway?" he asked.

She told him about the grotesque murders in the hotel in Copenhagen, about the mutilation of the bodies and the fact that the woman had probably been raped. They had found bruises and scratches on the inside of her thighs, and the semen in her vagina wasn't her husband's. It didn't seem to her like the Rudolphs' work.

She went on to tel him about the motor home death scene at the campsite outside Oslo, how neither the bodies nor the letters had been discovered because the reporter had been on vacation, and how the bodies had been arranged to look like Munch's The Scream.

"How did you get on in America?" she asked.

He gave her a summary of his investigations, tel ing her that the Rudolphs came from an extremely privileged background. That Sylvia had found their parents murdered when she was thirteen years old. That their guardian, Jonathan Blython, had embezzled their inheritance and been found dead with his throat cut. That Mac's girlfriend Sandra Schulman – whom Sylvia was jealous of – had disappeared after a visit to the Rudolphs' home. That the twins had set up an experimental art group, the Society of Limitless Art, and been expel ed from UCLA because of a public act of incest.

"A public act of incest?" Dessie said.

"They cal ed the work Taboo. The two of them made love in an exhibition hal."

"They real y are mad," Dessie said, pul ing him to her once more.