"We're dealing with an amateur," Lee said. "A Talent who was even half-developed would have burned this."
Unrolled, the picture fell in half. It had been sliced with a blade.
"Let's walk back," Sordman said. "Let's talk."
They crossed a log bridge. He ran his hands along the rough bark and smelled the cool water of the stream. Most of the big park was wilderness, but here and there were pavilions, an outdoor theatre, open playing fields and beautifully planned gardens. A man could have a home surrounded by the shops and pleasures of civilized living and yet only be a ten-minute elevator ride from God's bounty.
"The fact the killer used the newspaper picture doesn't prove Bedler was the real victim," George said. "But it indicates it."
"Let's assume it's true," Sordman said, "and see where it leads us."
"Bedler was married," Lee said. "I remember that from our briefing."
Sordman rabbit-punched a tree as he passed it. "It was a one-year contract, and it ended two weeks ago."
"I smell jealousy," Lee said.
"The world is filled with it," George said. "I favor short-term marriages. They're the only way a person can practice a difficult art and make mistakes without committing himself for life. But about half the mental breakdowns I used to get were due to the insecurities caused by a temporary contract. One party almost always hopes the marriage will somehow become permanent."