Dead Hunt by Beverly Connor Page A

that,’’ he said.
‘‘A linguist would be able to analyze her speech and perhaps tell us at least if English is her first language and might gather a clue as to what section of the country she grew up in.’’
‘‘I’ll see what I can do,’’ he said. ‘‘If nothing else, perhaps a forensic linguist could interview her.’’
‘‘Have you considered that Robert Carthwright might have been her first husband to die and that his death was an accident? She could have liked the benefits a dead husband gave her so much that she decided to make a career of it,’’ said Diane.
He nodded. ‘‘I’ve thought about that, but I don’t think so. We were saying earlier how good she is at getting people to like her. I was interviewing another killer once—a marrying-for-profit murderer something like Clymene.’’ Kingsley’s half smile looked more like a grimace. He shook his head. ‘‘The son of a bitch killed a woman’s husband in order to woo and marry her; then he killed her for the insurance. She had two kids. He killed two people and destroyed a family for a couple hundred thousand dollars and had no remorse whatsoever—total sociopath. I hated that guy. I had a very hard time being objective while I interviewed him. Even now, just talking about him, I hate him.’’
Kingsley leaned forward slightly. ‘‘Clymene killed her husband in a terrible way. Tetanus is a frightfully painful way to die. And she shows no remorse for it. Yet, my feelings about her are different—I don’t dislike her. I’m mainly neutral, but there are times when we are having a conversation, I actually like her. As you said, she has these ways of subconsciously getting to you. That takes not only talent, but practice and refinement. She does it to perfection. I think she’s killed many more times and I think she started her career earlier than we might have imagined. And I don’t think she’s unique. I believe there are others like her out there who aren’t even on the radar.’’
The waitress came and offered to fill their coffee cups. Kingsley nodded and pushed his toward her. Diane covered her cup with her hand. ‘‘Did I tell you she denied being a sociopath?’’ Diane said when the waitress left. ‘‘She said she isn’t one but Tully is and that he is dangerous not only to Grace Noel but to his own daughter. She wasn’t being defensive; it was almost like she was just stating a fact.’’
Kingsley sat for a moment looking thoughtful. ‘‘Maybe that’s why she’s so good,’’ he said. ‘‘She doesn’t have to fake certain emotions. The problem a lot of sociopaths have is they don’t know how normal people feel, or understand the normal behavior that comes from those feelings. They can fool a lot of people for a long time, but not everyone, and often it’s family members close to the target victim who are first suspicious of them. O’Riley’s son and daughter-in-law were totally taken in by Clymene.’’
He paused a moment and sipped his coffee. He put in another packet of sugar and sipped again. ‘‘I like coffee with my sugar,’’ he said. ‘‘Tell me, what was it Vanessa Van Ross saw in Clymene that she didn’t like?’’
‘‘She had a hard time conveying exactly what made her suspicious,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That’s why it took so long for the son to go to the police with her misgivings. It was something about Clymene always looking rehearsed, and one unguarded expression Vanessa saw that chilled her. Not much, I know. That shows you how much political weight Vanessa carries with the authorities in this city.’’
‘‘No, that’s not much, but it shows you how Clymene was caught by her own bad luck—not by victimology,’’ said Kingsley.
David approached the table and slid in beside her so abruptly and unexpectedly, Diane jumped. Kingsley looked startled.
‘‘This is David Goldstein. He’s one of my crime scene people. Supposed to be on vacation, but I’ve asked him to