Buzz O’Farrell, the SAC of the Bureau field office, was shaking his head. “It amazes me how they don’t send one reporter, no, it’s four dozen with eight dozen mikes, enough cameras to film World War II, and everybody screaming. I wanted to shoot that damned judge, but the media? A nice deadly virus might be the answer for them.”
“They ain’t got no manners, that’s for sure,” Savich said, grinning down at Sherlock, who looked both stoic and furious, an interesting combination he would have liked to explore with her in private. Which, unfortunately, wouldn’t be an option this morning.
“Big John leaked it,” Jimmy Maitland said, “we didn’t. Actually, we decided to keep our noses clean. And yes, we know he leaked it. He’s still counting on coming out smelling like a rose in all this and that’s why he did it.”
“If he hadn’t, then I probably would have,” Sherlock said. “Sorry, sir, but there it is. Anything to give us another shot at Marlin Jones.”
“Well, good morning to all you good law enforcement representatives,” Big John Bullock said, walking into the immense walnut-paneled conference room in his law offices. He homed in immediately on Sherlock. “Good to see you again,” he said.
She smiled at him. “I must say you’re looking a bit more fit than the last time I saw you. Marlin sure did a number on your head, didn’t he?”
“Poor boy, he was frantic to get out of that torture chamber. Shall we get down to business now?”
“That’s fine with us,” Savich said, all calm and cool, in that FBI voice of his.
“Do tell us exactly what you want,” Georgina Simms, the attorney for the Justice Department said, sitting forward. “This is on the unusual side. But we certainly want to cooperate all we can.”
“Well, I really wanted to know what Agent Sherlock has to say about all her unethical behavior in the case to date.”
Savich rose. He walked slowly up to Big John and said not two inches from his face, “Agent Sherlock doesn’t have anything to say. Now, if you can’t come up with something worth our while, then we’re out of here. You heard Ms. Simms. We’ve got a murderer to catch. Maybe you think it’s funny that at least eight women were brutally murdered and a doctor is hanging on for his life as we speak, but we don’t.”
Big John sobered immediately, nodding to the stenographer to begin as he sat down and opened a thick file. “All right, then. Agent Sherlock, here’s the problem you’ve created for the state. Your sister is one of the women allegedly killed by my client. Is this true?”
“Yes.”
“So the reason you became an FBI agent was to get in on the inside so you’d have a better chance of catching him?”
“Yes, initially.”
“Was it your idea, your plan, that resulted in the capture of Marlin Jones?”
“It was a plan developed by the local BPD and the FBI. It was also a plan approved by the local BPD and the FBI. I was merely the bait.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew his profile very well. I knew better than any other female officer or agent exactly how to play him, how to work him. I was simple bait, Mr. Bullock. All he had to do was ignore me. There was no entrapment.”
“That will be up to the judge, won’t it?”
Georgina Simms, said, her voice easy and slow, “This is all a waste of time, Mr. Bullock. If you have a point, make it now or we’re leaving.”
“My point is, exactly how did you know how to ‘play’ Marlin Jones so well, Agent Sherlock?”
She didn’t pause. She saw Dillon tense up, then consciously relax. He was worried. Well, she wasn’t. She’d thought about this a whole lot. “I’ve studied everything about the killer for the past seven years, Mr. Bullock. I felt that I knew him. He cut out the women’s tongues, thus it was assumed that the women he’d picked to walk the walk through his maze needed to be punished in his mind. His first marker was cursing. If he heard a woman using language unbecoming to a woman—and of course he was the judge of how bad the language was—that was half of his decision. The other half was whether or not she bad-mouthed her husband. This one was more iffy, but again, I felt I knew Marlin Jones; I’d studied him so closely for seven years and through my course work in undergraduate and in graduate school. As you know, he’s now claimed that he slept with most of the women he murdered, though we don’t have any confirmation on that. It’s really very straightforward. That’s all there is to it, Mr. Bullock.”
“So your sister cursed and bad-mouthed her husband. Did your sister also sleep with her killer, Agent Sherlock?”
“Since she’s been dead for seven years, stabbed many times, her tongue cut out, I don’t think we have much hope of getting the answer.”
Savich could have kissed her. It had been a question meant to inflame, meant to incite rage and thus to gain an untempered response. She’d held firm. He could tell Jimmy Maitland was impressed as well.
“That sounded all rehearsed, Agent Sherlock.”
She merely shrugged.
Big John said, “It sounds to me like you’re one obsessed little lady, excuse me, one obsessed little Special Agent. I would have thought that the FBI interviewers and psychologists would have spotted all this and not given you the time of day. That’s scary.”
“No, sir, what’s scary is a judge who presents Marlin Jones, a vicious murderer, with a perfect chance to escape.” She sat forward in her chair. “And you’re scary, Mr. Bullock. You’re doing this all to enhance your career—in other words, for fame and profit. If I am obsessed or have ever been obsessed, sir, then you are unethical, another word for basic slime.”
Big John roared to his feet. “You can’t talk to me like that, Agent Sherlock.”
“Why not, sir?”
Georgina Simms smiled. “It’s a good question, an excellent point actually, but we’ll let it go. Anything else you wanted to know, Mr. Bullock?”
“No judge is going to accept that she was only another well-trained agent doing a job. She taints the case. She’s a self-interested participant, not an objective law officer.”
“We’re gone,” Savich said, rose, and nodded to Sherlock. “See you in court, Mr. Bullock, if the cops can’t manage to bring down Marlin when he resists arrest, which you know he will.”
Sherlock smiled over her shoulder at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be spending so much time on Marlin Jones now, Mr. Bullock. You know Agent Savich is right. Marlin will resist arrest. The chance of your getting to eviscerate the law with your tactics isn’t likely to happen. Seems to me you’re wasting your time, which is worth lots of money, right?”
She felt Savich’s palm beneath her elbow. He said close to her ear, “We’re out of here. You did well.”
“We’ll go out the back way,” Jimmy Maitland said in the elevator. “I’ve already scoped it out.”
“That was interesting, Agent Sherlock,” Georgina Simms said. “I don’t understand either how you got into the FBI in the first place.”
“Actually, Ms. Simms, I was surprised too. Don’t get me wrong; finding Marlin Jones was a big part of my motivation for joining, but then I realized that this was what I wanted to do with my life. You know, before Agent Savich brought me to his unit, I could have ended up chasing bank robbers in Los Angeles. And that was the bottom line. I would have caught as many bank robbers as I could.”
“I rather think a judge might buy that,” Georgina Simms said. “But as I said, however did you manage to even get accepted with this in your background?”
“I guess nobody made a big deal out of it.”
“I guess not.”
Before they all parted in the underground parking lot, Jimmy Maitland said to Savich, “Simms buys it because it sounds good and it is true, for the most part. However, what she doesn’t know is that you’ve got the hots for Sherlock. What are you going to do about that? Are you two going to get married, or what?”
“Yes, but as they say, timing is everything.”
“But the point is, why did
you ask for her for the Criminal Apprehension Unit in the first place?”
Savich didn’t hesitate. “Because she was so damned good in Hogan’s Alley. No, I didn’t have the hots for her then, sir. I simply thought that she’d be one of the best I could get my hands on. I found out she’d turned down profiling because she said she couldn’t stomach it, but she had all this great training and knowledge in forensics. No, sir, at that time, there was no lust scrambling my brains.”
Jimmy Maitland grunted. “Timing,” he said. “You’re right. All of this will have to be controlled very tightly. You took care of the leak out of your unit?”
“All gone,” Savich said.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me about it?”
“I would appreciate your not asking, sir, since there’s no solid proof.”
THIRTY-ONE
They spent the rest of the day with local field office agents and police, seeing exactly what was going on with the manhunt. “It looks like everything’s being done right,” Savich said to one of the cops on the newly formed task force. “And there’s zero hint or word that Marlin Jones could have met up with someone?”
“Not an echo of a word,” Officer Drummond said. “My feet hurt. I think I’ve walked from one end of the zone to the other a good dozen times. I’ve spoken to every informant who’s ever migrated to Boston or was born here.”
By eight o’clock that evening, Marlin Jones was still at large.
They decided to eat again at the Chinese restaurant on Newbury and walked there.
“I doubt he’ll show, Sherlock.”
“I know. At least we’re giving him every opportunity to make a move.”
“Okay. We’ll keep walking everywhere and when the media catches up to us, we’ll wave to our mothers and smile really big. Speaking of mothers, do you think your mother really saw Marlin kissing Belinda in the driveway?”
“Actually, I have no idea what she saw or if she even saw anything. I think you’re right about the attention bids. My father was there and she wanted him to focus on her. It was an excellent way to go about it.”
“So you don’t believe your father would ever try to run her down?”
“I don’t know. But I think she loves him. I could be wrong. It’s nuts, isn’t it? Maybe she did see someone perhaps speak to Belinda in the driveway, but Marlin?”
“Do you think your father prosecuted Erasmus Jones fifteen years ago?”
“Oh yes. My father’s firmly planted in the here-and-now, no matter how unpleasant it can get. He doesn’t make stuff up. If he said Erasmus Jones was in his courtroom, then he was. The question is—Is it possible that Erasmus Jones has anything to do with this?”
Savich said slowly, “There’s a tremendous resemblance between father and son. Is it possible that maybe your mother saw Erasmus with Belinda, not Marlin?”
“I have no idea. But she didn’t have any reaction at all to Erasmus Jones’s photograph.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Over egg rolls and fried wonton, half with meat and half vegetarian, Savich said, releasing her hand, “Your fingers are cold.”
“All of me is cold.”
“Next summer we’ll go to Louise Lynn Lake with Quinlan and Sally. I want to see you in a bikini. A blue one. I want to buy it for you. I want to put it on you and take it off.”
Next summer, she thought: a lifetime away from a Chinese restaurant in Boston where, she prayed, Marlin Jones was lurking somewhere, waiting for her to come out. Cops were stationed at short intervals all around the restaurant.
She gave Dillon a huge smile. “Thank you,” she said, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth. Then she sat down again, took a huge forkful of garlic pork, and chewed while Savich sat there, staring at her, bemused.
Princess prawns and garlic eggplant arrived. While Savich was spooning rice onto his plate, he said, “What do you think about Douglas?”
“I really don’t want to think about him right now. I just want to eat.” She sighed as she speared a princess prawn on her fork. “Everyone is accusing everyone else of killing Belinda. We go down one passageway, then another.” She waved her fork, flinging rice onto the table. “The only thing I am sure about is that Isabelle didn’t do it. My money would be on Candice if she’d only been around seven years ago.”
“I find myself still going back and back yet again to your nightmare, to your experiencing exactly what happened to Belinda.”
“I try not to anymore. It’s too scary. It makes me sweat. Do you think we could go work out after dinner?”
He grinned at her over a forkful of garlic eggplant, which had been nicely prepared. “My soul mate,” he said. “Your delts still need work. Your thighs are really nice, though. Those triceps of yours make me hard.”
“I love it when you talk gym to me.”
THEY didn’t fly back to Washington until the next afternoon. Not a single sign of Marlin Jones. He was still at large.
They stopped off to see Captain Dougherty at the station on their way to Logan International. “It seems to me that someone has to be helping him,” Savich said.
“Yeah,” said Captain Dougherty. “Everyone is coming to that conclusion now. There haven’t been any murders or robberies that haven’t checked out. Since Marlin didn’t have any money, he would have to get some if he remained alone. He didn’t so far as we know. So, someone must be helping him. Someone’s hiding him, a someone who has enough money to keep him out of sight. But who? We’ve checked with the people at the lumberyard where he worked. He didn’t have any close friends that they knew of, at least no one close enough to go out on this long a limb for him.”
Sherlock handed Captain Dougherty the eight-by-ten photo of Erasmus Jones. “This is his father. You might want to distribute this photo.”
“They sure do look alike. You think his old man might really be in on this thing? Do you think he’s the one helping Marlin?”
“We have no idea. We don’t even know if he’s dead or alive. It’s just an idea, something we can sink our teeth into.” They rose. “We’re going back home, Captain. Keep us informed and good luck.”
“DOUGLAS told me he’s being followed. Damn you, this has got to stop.”
Candice Madigan spoke angrily from behind them as Savich was unlocking his front door.
Sherlock’s hand was already on her Lady Colt. Savich was already in a crouch. He took a deep breath. “I suggest you never do anything like that again, ma’am. Sherlock could have shot you and I could have broken your neck. May I inquire what you’re doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” Sherlock asked, stepping directly under the porch light.
Savich unlocked the door and shoved it open. “Everyone might as well come inside. You first, Mrs. Madigan. I’d as soon keep you in front of me.” He said over his shoulder, “I hope you have frequent flier miles. What is this? Your second or third trip to Washington?”
“Of course I have frequent flier miles,” she said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
If Candice was blown away by the inside of Savich’s house, she didn’t show it. Her eyes never left Sherlock. “Did you hear me, Lacey? I know it’s not the San Francisco cops. Judge Sherlock found that out for me. So it has to be the FBI following him. It’s your doing, isn’t it? No, you don’t have that kind of authority.” She turned on Savich. “You’d do anything for little miss sweetness, wouldn’t you? Even have my husband followed. Are you trying to blame Douglas for Belinda’s murder? Stop it; he’s going nuts. I won’t have it.”
“You know,” Savich said easily, waving Candice into the living room, “when you pause to think a bit, Douglas had a very good motive for killing Belinda. He wanted out of the marriage but she wouldn’t give him a divorce. He knew if he tried to get one that Judge Sherlock would have ruined him. He was trapped. So he used the String Killer’s M.O. and killed her. What do you think? Sound good?”
&nbs
p; Candice lunged at him.
He caught her wrists and held her away from him. She kicked at him. He quickly turned to the side. Then he began shaking her, saying in his low calm voice, “Stop it, Mrs. Madigan. For a woman of some sophistication, you’re not playing the part.”
“Give her to me,” Sherlock said. “I’m sick of you, Candice. You want to fight, then come here. I’d love to take you down.”
“You’d wreck my living room,” Savich said, looking at a red-faced Sherlock, and smiled. “Will you try to keep some control, Mrs. Madigan? I’ll protect you from Sherlock if you’ll mind your manners. Will you?” Slowly, she nodded. Savich let her go. She stood there, rubbing her wrists. Then, slowly, she turned to face Sherlock, but she said over her shoulder to Savich, “Did it ever occur to you that she killed Belinda? Talk about crazy, look at her family. Every gene coursing through her is nuts, just plain nuts.”
There was dead silence except for Candice’s heavy breathing.
“Well? What do you have to say to that?”
Sherlock smiled, an awesome feat she told Dillon later, but she managed it. “Candice, why are you really here?”
“I told you, someone’s following Douglas. It’s got to be the FBI. I want it stopped. So I came to make you do it.”
Sherlock said, “Why didn’t you just call? It sure would have been cheaper. No answer to that? Maybe you wanted to hire that guy again to terrorize me? Maybe you wanted to try to run me down again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. As for you,” she continued, looking at Savich, “you’re blind. Douglas was too, but for only a little while. Now he realizes what she is.” Candice gave them a triumphant smile and sat down on the beautiful sofa. “Well?”
“Well what, Mrs. Madigan?”
“Will you have the FBI stop following my husband?”
Savich sighed. “Sure, Mrs. Madigan. The thing is, though, we have an agent following him in order to keep him safe. Marlin Jones is still on the loose. It’s possible he plans to go back to California. It’s possible that he would want to see Douglas, maybe even kill him. That’s why we have an agent on him, to protect him.”
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