Eleventh Hour
Page 49

 Catherine Coulter

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“Yeah, I’ve been in his unit for about five months now.”
“Smooth as butter,” Delion said. “I was thinking about letting you have a go at Milton, but he knew you, knew you weren’t a cop, so that wouldn’t have worked. And there was Savich, looking ready, even smiling a little, and I knew he had something up his sleeve. He did good, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.”
“His wife, her name is really Sherlock?”
Dane nodded, smiled. “Yes, they’re quite a team.”
“You know,” Delion said, “I’ve been in court with Sherlock’s dad. Now there’s a tough, high-powered dude. Defense lawyers hate his guts. They bitch about having the rotten luck to end up with the only law-and-order judge in San Francisco. Cops love him, needless to say.”
“Yes,” Dane said. “Too bad that Milton McGuffey isn’t a bit more stupid. The DA’ll have trouble proving attempted murder. We need Stuckey. At least Milt verified—and it’s probably the only thing he said that was true—that the guy who hired him lives in LA and his name’s DeFrosh. Damn, Milton isn’t the killer, Delion.”
“Yeah, I know, but we’re getting there, Dane. I’m going to call Flynn, tell him what happened. He’s gonna love it that the creep who set this all up told Milton his name was DeFrosh.”
Dane said, “Maybe he thinks we’re slow—DeFrosh even rhymes with DeLoach. What is he trying to prove? Is it his goal to get up close and personal with us? Or maybe he just wants us to believe that Weldon DeLoach is the killer?” Dane stopped when he saw Nick leaning against a wall, actually against a gray file cabinet since there was no wall showing. “Hey, you okay, Nick?”
She said as she lightly touched her fingertips to the bandage on her forehead, “In this case, it really does look worse than it really is. I’m okay, just resting a bit.”
Delion said, “I don’t know, Nick. I think you look kind of cute. In a pathetic sort of way. If you want a safe house now, I’ll bet the lieutenant will spring for it.”
Dane said, “No, I’m keeping her with me. Are you in, Delion? We’re all going to LA tomorrow.”
“I’m ahead of you, boyo,” Delion said. “I already called Franken. He said there was still no sign of Weldon. He’s got everybody looking for him, but he doesn’t hold much hope of finding him. Since the police are looking, too, maybe someone will see him. Franken’s going to meet us at the studio at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. He’s got some video of Weldon DeLoach.”
“We’ll finally see what the man looks like,” Nick said.
“Yep,” Delion said. “And there’s lots of stuff to go over with Flynn. He’s got a small army of people working on the personnel lists, interviews, checking alibis, possible motives. We’ve got a lot to tell him as well.”
He looked over at Savich and Sherlock and rolled his eyes. “More Feds. It always starts with a single Fed—sort of like reconnaissance—then you look up and the Feds are converging, multiplying like rabbits until soon they’re everywhere and they’ve taken over. Hey, FBI Director Mueller will be out here before long. He comes from here, you know. Hey, you guys coming with us to LA?”
“Count us in,” Sherlock said, coming to stand by Nick.
Savich said, “What’s this about the gun that killed Dane’s brother being like the two possible guns in the Zodiac killer case? What was that—some thirty years ago?”
“Ain’t that a kick?” Delion said. “It’s got our ballistics guy, Zopp, nearly drooling he’s so excited, telling one blonde joke after another.” At Sherlock’s raised eyebrow, he grinned. “Yeah, Zopp says blonde jokes help his synapses fire. But you know, it has to be a coincidence, has to be.”
“Hmmm,” Sherlock said. “Yeah, it’s a coincidence, but it’s a strange one.”
Delion said, “Hey, Sherlock, you as tough as your daddy?”
“He likes to think so,” Sherlock said, and smiled real big. There were three other inspectors standing close by, grinning like loons at her.
“Local cops really like her,” Savich said, and just shook his head, and Delion thought, Boy, that guy’s proud of her.
Savich said, “So you don’t mind if we tag along to LA with you, Delion?”
“More the merrier,” Delion said. “Hey, Lieutenant, any word on Stuckey yet?”
“Not yet, but we’ll get him.” Lieutenant Linda Purcell looked around at all the assembled homicide inspectors and said, “Everyone saw how Savich worked the guy around? How he got Stuckey’s name out of him?”