Blow Out
Page 87
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“Not yet, Ben. Stay inside a few minutes longer until the rest of my men check in.”
Ben nodded. “I spoke to Captain Halloway. He said he told you he was sending more squad cars.”
“Yes, we’re all spread out now, canvassing everything within a mile of the house, but it’s tough, folks who live in this area like to party on Friday night.”
“The guy we’re looking for is American, probably in his fifties, white.”
Sergeant Teddy Russell, a twenty-four-year veteran, put his beefy hand on the butt of the Smith & Wesson 1911 holstered at his belt, and looked from Ben to the two women. “Boy, you guys in Metro sure like to live on the edge.”
CHAPTER 27
GEORGETOWN
WASHINGTON, D.C.
EARLY SATURDAY MORNING FLEURETTE SAT at the kitchen table, a hot mug of coffee held between her hands, her head down, her blond hair straggling out of its ponytail. She was wearing an oversized cable knit navy sweater, blue jeans, and boots. An orange duffel bag and oversized purse lay at her feet.
“Thank you, Agent Savich,” she said at last, still not looking up. “You probably saved my life.”
“I’m just happy that Ben got there in time. You’ll be staying with my wife and me for a while, all right?”
Fleurette shuddered. “Thank you.” She raised her head and looked from him to Sherlock. “Do you often have people like me staying with you?”
“No,” Sherlock said, pouring more hot coffee into her mug, “not often. Here, drink this down, Fleurette, you need it.”
Callie was leaning into Ben. She looked dazed and absolutely exhausted. She said, “I’ve got to call Mom, tell her what’s happened.”
Savich said, “No, not yet, Callie. She doesn’t need to know right now. Let her rest, let her have a bit more recovery time before we hit her with Eliza’s murder. We’ll go over tomorrow.” He watched Sherlock walk quietly out of the kitchen. He nodded to Ben, said to Fleurette, “Keep drinking that hot coffee.”
He found his wife sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her face in her hands. He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.
In the kitchen, Lily and Simon were cutting slices of apple pie and heating them in the microwave. Lily said, “Fleurette, you need sugar, it will help calm you.”
“I really don’t want—”
“I know it’s not chocolate,” Simon Russo said, “but it’s a good excuse to eat the best apple pie in the universe and not feel guilty about the calories.”
Fleurette actually smiled. It fell off her face quickly enough, but it was a start. There was enough left for all of them to have a small slice. For a while, there was only the sound of chewing in the kitchen.
“DILLON?” Sherlock’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m falling apart like this. It’s just that—”
“If you weren’t falling apart, then I would be,” he said, and kissed her hair. “It’s tough, sweetheart, really tough. I’m as sorry as you are. Eliza was special.”
“Yes. Dillon, I liked her so very much and I’d only met her. Just twice and the funeral.”
“But all three times were emotional, the kinds of meetings that draw people together. I really liked her, too, I really did.” He drew a deep breath, kissed her again. “Why did he feel he had to kill her?”
“This time, we don’t even know. Maybe she knew something after all, and he was afraid she was going to break. And she did break, she called you. Oh God, Mr. Maitland brought in the agents too soon.”
“It was after Justice Califano’s funeral, everyone believed it was over.”
Ben stood alone in the archway of the living room. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s something I forgot to tell you. When Callie and I went to see Fleurette at the Supreme Court Building this morning, only Eliza was there. She was cleaning out Justice Califano’s stuff, and constantly answering the phone, really harried. We spoke for just a few moments. Before we left, I asked her if there was anything I could do. She hesitated, I’m sure of it. She looked sort of undecided, like there was something on her mind, but then the phone rang again and she waved us out. Damn, Savich, I didn’t think anything about it.”
“So maybe she did know something,” Sherlock said. “But what? And he was there, in the condo, with her. Do you think he let her pick up the phone, dial you, speak to you?”
Savich said, “I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe he needed to take a risk again, and so when he heard her on the phone to me, that was it, this time. And then he garroted her, just like Justice Califano and Danny O’Malley.”
Ben nodded. “I spoke to Captain Halloway. He said he told you he was sending more squad cars.”
“Yes, we’re all spread out now, canvassing everything within a mile of the house, but it’s tough, folks who live in this area like to party on Friday night.”
“The guy we’re looking for is American, probably in his fifties, white.”
Sergeant Teddy Russell, a twenty-four-year veteran, put his beefy hand on the butt of the Smith & Wesson 1911 holstered at his belt, and looked from Ben to the two women. “Boy, you guys in Metro sure like to live on the edge.”
CHAPTER 27
GEORGETOWN
WASHINGTON, D.C.
EARLY SATURDAY MORNING FLEURETTE SAT at the kitchen table, a hot mug of coffee held between her hands, her head down, her blond hair straggling out of its ponytail. She was wearing an oversized cable knit navy sweater, blue jeans, and boots. An orange duffel bag and oversized purse lay at her feet.
“Thank you, Agent Savich,” she said at last, still not looking up. “You probably saved my life.”
“I’m just happy that Ben got there in time. You’ll be staying with my wife and me for a while, all right?”
Fleurette shuddered. “Thank you.” She raised her head and looked from him to Sherlock. “Do you often have people like me staying with you?”
“No,” Sherlock said, pouring more hot coffee into her mug, “not often. Here, drink this down, Fleurette, you need it.”
Callie was leaning into Ben. She looked dazed and absolutely exhausted. She said, “I’ve got to call Mom, tell her what’s happened.”
Savich said, “No, not yet, Callie. She doesn’t need to know right now. Let her rest, let her have a bit more recovery time before we hit her with Eliza’s murder. We’ll go over tomorrow.” He watched Sherlock walk quietly out of the kitchen. He nodded to Ben, said to Fleurette, “Keep drinking that hot coffee.”
He found his wife sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her face in her hands. He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.
In the kitchen, Lily and Simon were cutting slices of apple pie and heating them in the microwave. Lily said, “Fleurette, you need sugar, it will help calm you.”
“I really don’t want—”
“I know it’s not chocolate,” Simon Russo said, “but it’s a good excuse to eat the best apple pie in the universe and not feel guilty about the calories.”
Fleurette actually smiled. It fell off her face quickly enough, but it was a start. There was enough left for all of them to have a small slice. For a while, there was only the sound of chewing in the kitchen.
“DILLON?” Sherlock’s voice was muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m falling apart like this. It’s just that—”
“If you weren’t falling apart, then I would be,” he said, and kissed her hair. “It’s tough, sweetheart, really tough. I’m as sorry as you are. Eliza was special.”
“Yes. Dillon, I liked her so very much and I’d only met her. Just twice and the funeral.”
“But all three times were emotional, the kinds of meetings that draw people together. I really liked her, too, I really did.” He drew a deep breath, kissed her again. “Why did he feel he had to kill her?”
“This time, we don’t even know. Maybe she knew something after all, and he was afraid she was going to break. And she did break, she called you. Oh God, Mr. Maitland brought in the agents too soon.”
“It was after Justice Califano’s funeral, everyone believed it was over.”
Ben stood alone in the archway of the living room. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s something I forgot to tell you. When Callie and I went to see Fleurette at the Supreme Court Building this morning, only Eliza was there. She was cleaning out Justice Califano’s stuff, and constantly answering the phone, really harried. We spoke for just a few moments. Before we left, I asked her if there was anything I could do. She hesitated, I’m sure of it. She looked sort of undecided, like there was something on her mind, but then the phone rang again and she waved us out. Damn, Savich, I didn’t think anything about it.”
“So maybe she did know something,” Sherlock said. “But what? And he was there, in the condo, with her. Do you think he let her pick up the phone, dial you, speak to you?”
Savich said, “I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe he needed to take a risk again, and so when he heard her on the phone to me, that was it, this time. And then he garroted her, just like Justice Califano and Danny O’Malley.”
