The Postcard Killers by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Thriller
Published: 2010-09-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 71

THE INVESTIGATING TEAM WAS GATHERED in Mats Duvall’s office. They made a hollow-eyed, determined crowd as they settled on the sofas and chairs.

“We’ve gone through their hotel room in the Amaranten,” the superintendent said. “A preliminary search hasn’t re-vealed anything that can help our case. Quite the reverse, in fact…”

He looked through his papers.

“Malcolm Rudolph really was tested for salmonella on February ninth in Madrid, the same day the murders in Athens were committed. Here’s the receipt.”

Jacob shut his eyes, covering them with his hand. He almost couldn’t bear to hear any more.

Mats Duvall went on to summarize the state of the investigation: No drugs had been found in the hotel room, neither marijuana nor any muscle relaxant containing cyclopentolate. No weapons had been found. No knives or scalpels. Inquiries at the 7-Eleven shop on Vдsterlеnggatan confirmed that one of their computers had been used at lunchtime on Tuesday to book a Helsinki cruise with Silja Line for four people. The four passengers were Peter Visser, Nienke van Mourik, Sylvia Rudolph, and Malcolm Rudolph. No stolen property, neither that of the victims in Sweden nor from anywhere else in Europe, had been found, and no champagne. In fact, there was nothing to suggest that Sylvia or Malcolm Rudolph had ever been in contact with any of the other murder victims.

A response from Berlin indicated that no trace of the Rudolph siblings had been found at any of the European crime scenes.

On the other hand, their fingerprints were found in various places in the room in the Grand Hotel.

There was complete silence after the superintendent finished with his list.

“Reactions?”

“It’s them,” Jacob said. “I know it is. I don’t know how they’ve done it, or what the purpose of this little charade of theirs is, but they’re guilty as fuck.”

“And how do we prove that, sir?” Sara Hцglund said. “They’ve looked at paintings, which isn’t a crime, at least not here in Europe. They’ve been traveling around and they visited friends in their hotel room. What can we possibly charge them with? And based on what evidence?”

Jacob recalled the reassuring hand she had laid on Sylvia Rudolph’s arm.

“We have to go through the confiscated material more thoroughly,” he said. “There’s something there, something we’ve missed. Let me help you. Please.”

“They turned themselves in,” Sara Hцglund said. “They’re being very cooperative. They’ve declined legal representation. They’re horrified by the deaths of their friends. And they’ve got an alibi for the murders in Athens.”

There was an oppressive silence when she stopped talking.

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