Whatever.
Confident that Sophie was at least, nominally, on the side of the good guys, she walked over to Sophie’s apartment and knocked on the door.
Sophie opened it almost immediately. Quill could see that she’d been crying.
“The sheriff says your father’s credentials check out.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “As an agent maybe. His, like, paternal credentials suck big-time.”
“The sheriff asked us to wait for him.”
“Just as well. Better to have an official witness if I can find the darn gun.” She stepped back. “Come on in.”
The living room was much the same as before, except for the pile of scuba gear heaped in the middle of the floor.
“You want anything to drink? Some wine, maybe?” She looked sympathetically at Quill. “You look like you could use it.”
“I’d rather get some information.”
“It’d be better if it came from Daddy.”
“Just in a general way,” Quill said. “I guess secrecy’s important in some types of government work but unless lives are at stake, I think secrecy is a bad idea.”
“You and me, both.” Sophie flung herself on the sofa, stretched out her long legs, and put her hands behind her head. “And lives aren’t at stake in this thing, or shouldn’t have been. And anyhow, Daddy thinks Major McHale is a pretty decent guy. And my personal opinion is that we owe you one, because of poor Meg. It’s fair to warn you that I won’t volunteer any information, but I’ll answer questions I can. So ask away.”
“What does Myles have to do with this?”
“Not a thing. Except in the intelligence community, people tend to be pretty tight.”
“Who killed Mickey Greer?”
“Brady Beale, most likely. We’ll know for sure if I can find the gun.”
“Did Brady kill Linda Connelly, too?”
“Probably. We’ll know for sure…”
“…If you can find the gun. Why? Why did anybody get killed?”
“Because Brady Beale is a stupid idiot. His grandfather worked at the underwater weapons depot during World War Two and talked a lot about the weapons that got dumped there. It’s a deep lake, you know. Close to nine hundred feet at the deepest part. You could plunk the Eiffel Tower in there and just a little bit of the top would poke out.”
“Sophie, please.”
“Sure, no problem. Anyhow, Beale got convinced there was an atomic warhead down there. He’s a diver, and he spent a lot of time looking around for stuff and finally found an old submarine.”
“An atomic warhead? In Seneca Lake?”
“It’s not totally bogus. The Manhattan Project had been underway since 1940, and they were working on all kinds of methods of delivery. So it’s possible, as opposed to probable. Anyhow, as we all know, atomic weapons mean plutonium and plutonium is worth a lot of money.
“As near as Daddy can figure out, Brady met up with the Russians at this international car show in Miami and boasted about how he could sell them a pile of plutonium. It’s illegal to sell it here, of course, and naturally, it belongs to the navy anyway.”
“Naturally,” Quill said, fascinated.
“So Natalia shows up with Mickey the Muscle. It looks like Brady and Natalia couldn’t come to an agreement—she’s got quite a reputation as a double-crosser, or did. So ‘boom’ (Sophie mimed a gun blast with both hands) Natalia gets killed, and then ‘boom’ Brady meets Mickey at the lake and they quarrel and Brady shoots Mickey and throws the gun in the lake. Like I said, stupid.”
“But. Natalia shows up with Mickey? Just like that? And why did Brady have those pictures of you on his laptop? How do you know all this?”
“Daddy taped it on his cell phone. Brady’s fight with Greer, that is, and his pitching the gun. That’s how come he thinks I’ll be able to find that darn gun in the middle of the deepest lake in the entire northeast. Otherwise, I’d be diving for weeks.”
There was a fusillade of knocks on the door
“That’ll be the sheriff?” Sophie asked. “I’d appreciate it if you’d do me a favor. There’s no reason you should, except that I’m going to judge that pie contest for you even though it’s a suicide mission that rates right up there with an assignment in Afghanistan.”
“Quill? Are you in there?” Davy rattled the doorknob. His voice was ratcheted up a couple of notches with tension.
“Yes, Davy.” Quill opened the door.
Davy shouldered past her into the room, his hand on his gun. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Just fine. I’d like you to meet Sophie Kilcannon. She’s going to save Meg.”
He looked up at her, and nodded curtly. “Agent Kilcannon.”
“I’m not an agent,” Sophie said desperately. “I’m a chef. I never was an agent. I’ve just had to step into a few things because of my father. But I’m not, not, not an agent with the CIA.”
Davy’s cheeks flamed red. “I thought your father was with the FBI.”
Sophie threw her hands up. “Whatever. Look. Did you get the transmission of the murder?”
“Yeah, I got that.”
Quill knew better than to grab him by the arm, but she stepped in front of Sophie and looked Davy directly in the eye. “And did you send it on to Harker?”
“I did better than that. Or rather, George whatever-the-hell-his-real-name-is did better than that. He called in a few favors. Meg will be released from police custody sometime this afternoon. If Agent Kilcannon finds the gun, all of the charges will be dropped.”
“Chef,” Sophie muttered. “I’m a chef.”
Quill handed the air tanks to Sophie and picked up the face mask and the wet suit. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Davy’s cheeks flamed again. He was out of his depth, Quill saw, and not happy at all. “Just hang on a second, Quill. I don’t like this. I don’t really understand what the hell is going on.”
“Why don’t you follow us in the cruiser? As soon as we get that gun and Meg’s free, Sophie can explain everything.” She nudged both of them out the door. “Let’s move.”
~
“You can explain everything, can’t you?” Quill pulled out onto the highway. Dresden was less than ten miles away on the cross highway between Seneca and Cayuga Lakes. They could be there in five minutes if the road was clear.
Sophie stared glumly out the window. “Sure. I got set up. That explains it all in a nutshell. My father’s a careful guy. He needed an extra agent in place and he knew I didn’t want to do this anymore and he also knew I wouldn’t let him down if he really needed me so he, what, arranged to bribe Clare Sparrow to take me on here. I suppose if things hadn’t gone flooey with the operation, I’d still be barreling along happy as Larry thinking I’d been hired because I’m a damn good cook.”
Quill looked in the rear window. Davy followed along behind her. She wished she’d thought to ride with him. He could have put on the siren.
“You were about to ask me a favor?”
Sophie tugged at a strand of hair and chewed on it. “Just that you not let everybody in town know about the bribe.”
“It wasn’t a bribe.” They’d arrived at the intersection of Route 14 and 54. Dresden lay straight ahead. Quill glanced both ways and gunned across the road. Here, the highway remained two lanes, but the area was abruptly residential. The houses were mostly two-story clapboards and neatly kept with trim lawns and modest gardens. “It was more of a scholarship. And from what Clare and Madame LeVasque told me, your father was very concerned that you have a chance to settle down in one place for a while. I mean, it’s obvious from what’s happening now that he had another motive, too. But really Sophie, I’m sure that he had your best interests at heart.”
Sophie chuckled to herself. “Maybe. He always says I have a gypsy soul. Maybe I do. And maybe I would have ended up feeling like I was in jail here. But darn it…” She leaned forward. “Stop here.”
They were at the top of a steep hill that drop
ped directly down to the lake. To their right was an anonymous huddle of white buildings with corrugated metal roofs. To their left was a stand of sycamore trees that obscured the view of the lake. At the bottom of the hill, on the lakeshore itself, was a cluster of small lake cottages.
A long, massively built pier jutted straight out into the water.
Sophie peered through the windshield. “Okay. I’ve got it. The camera was over in the thickest part of the sycamores. They provide a lot of cover.” She flipped open her cell phone and tapped at the small screen. “Beale must have parked over there and taken cover on the low side of the berm.” She snapped the cell phone shut. “Park in front of the navy yard, if you don’t mind. It’s time to suit up.”
20
“The dive was pretty amazing,” Quill said to Meg and Justin late the next afternoon. “It took her a while to find the gun, but she kept going until she found it. I’m just thankful that Beale didn’t have enough time to get out on the lake and pitch it into the really deep water. We might never have found it at all.”
It was another brilliant day. The three of them sat on the patio of the Tavern Lounge. The chrysanthemums at the edge of the flagstones seemed to have bloomed overnight, and the scarlet, yellow, and purple flowers made the day a festival.
“Although it seemed to take hours, it wasn’t more than forty-five minutes before she brought it up. Davy brought George/Winston/Franklin—how do spies keep all their identities straight, anyway? Whatever. Anyhow, Sophie didn’t say one word to him. Not one. She just stared at him for a minute, then got her wet suit on and jumped into the water. But the cell phone tape helped a lot.” She took her sister’s hand and held it for a moment. “Horrible, but helpful. We could see where the gun sank. We also saw Brady Beale shoot Mickey Greer, which was the worst part. Davy e-mailed a copy on to Harker as soon as he saw it, which is why you got out of jail so fast, thank God.” She smiled at Justin. “That, plus Sophie’s dad, and you calling in every favor you had in the justice system seemed to have done the trick.”
“Howie had a lot more to do with it than I did,” Justin said lightly. His arm was around Meg, and he tightened it briefly. His face bore the marks of more than one sleepless night. “I just camped out at the county jail.”
“He did, too,” Meg said. She shook her head. “Slept on the bench in the reception area. I don’t know why they didn’t throw him out.”
Meg was pale, and very clean. Justin brought her back to the Inn late Saturday night, and the first thing she did was shower. Then she showered again. She fell into bed and slept for ten hours straight and began the morning with a third shower. “Thank goodness for that tape, though, as gruesome as it is. Without that I might have been toast. Mickey had my blood and skin under his nails. Nobody knew where the murder weapon was. And that witness who saw us arguing was pretty believable. He owns one of those little cottages right next to the navy depot.” She shuddered.
Quill poured them all a second glass of wine. “I never thought I’d say it, but here’s to cell phones.” She raised her glass.
“Here’s to scuba divers,” Meg said. “I really ought to thank Sophie, too.”
“She’ll be along in a minute,” Quill said. “She lost her job at the academy, you know, and she’s going back to Miami. Clare’s taking her to the train, and she’s catching a flight from New York.”
“Here’s to Sophie,” Justin said. “Hail and farewell.” He drained his glass. Meg drained hers. Quill poured them a third round, and decided that she herself had had enough. She wanted to take Jack to the park this afternoon.
Meg waved her glass merrily in the air. “And to George/Winston/Franklin, wherever he may be.”
“I’d like to toast him with the toe of my boot,” Justin said. “If he’d just alerted Kiddermeister to this operation, Meg wouldn’t have spent those days in jail.”
“Eighteen hours and twenty-three minutes actual jail time,” Meg said proudly. “I was going to keep count of the days on the cell wall, like the Count of Monte Cristo. Anyhow, thank goodness he was hiding in the bushes surveilling those guys. Otherwise…what’s the matter, Quill?”
“He wasn’t hiding in the bushes. He couldn’t have been hiding in the bushes.” Quill set the remainder of her Riesling on the table. “Things have been going so fast, I haven’t had a chance to think. Sophie’s father was at the Croh Bar the day of Greer’s murder. All afternoon. And he didn’t pay his bar tab.”
“Somebody took the video,” Meg said.
“Sophie said her father took the video—I mean, you saw it. Davy saw it. I personally don’t ever want to see it, but it exists.”
The French doors to the lounge swung open and Sophie Kilcannon walked onto the patio. She was dressed for travel, in khaki pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that read If You Go You Can’t Come Back. Her guitar was over one shoulder and her knapsack was over the other.
“Hey, guys,” she said. She looked tired and a little sad, but her smile was as bright as ever. “Sure glad to see you, Meg.” She gave her a friendly bump on the shoulder, and sank down in the empty chair at the table. “Any of that wine left for me?”
Justin got up. “I’ll tell Nate.”
“And maybe a couple of cheese plates,” Meg added. “Hang on. I’d better go and do them myself. Do you realize that I haven’t been in the kitchen since Thursday afternoon? God knows what’s been happening there without me. We’ll be right back.”
Quill waited until Justin and Meg disappeared inside. “Sophie, where were you the day that Mickey Greer was killed?”
“Thursday?” She frowned a little. “Let’s see. I helped Jim Chen with a seafood class from three to five, and then I did prep work in the kitchen with Raleigh Brewster. Why?” Her eyebrows went up and she was quiet for a minute. “Oh. The cell phone tape. You’re wondering who took that video, aren’t you? I have a hunch you’re a little confused about who’s who, here. See? This is why I’m a lousy spy. I blurt. I’m impulsive. I don’t think!” She pounded her head with the heel of her hand. “Next time somebody tries to pull me into one of these things, I’ve got four words for them: I’m not doin’ it.”
“Now, Sophie, dear, you don’t mean it.” Althea Quince sat down on Quill’s left. Nolan Quince sat at Quill’s right. Sophie snarled at both of them. It was, Quill noted, an affectionate snarl.
I won’t volunteer anything, but I’ll answer your questions.
Quill wanted to smack herself on the head, but didn’t. Suddenly, it all made a cockeyed kind of sense. “There are one too many federal agents in Hemlock Falls.” She slugged back the rest of her wine. “George McIntyre is really Ruiz, an agent from the FBI.”
Nolan nodded yes.
“He thought you could talk Sophie into doing a bit of undercover work if he got her a job at the Academy, so he posed as you, Nolan, and talked Clare into hiring her.”
Nolan nodded again.
Quill pointed at him. “You took the video footage of the murder at the lake.”
“Yes,” Nolan said. “I’m Sophie’s father. Retired CIA.”
He patted Quill’s shoulder. “Both Althea and I realized it wouldn’t take Myles McHale’s wife too long to start asking some uncomfortable questions.”
“Daddy,” Sophie said between gritted teeth. “Quill would make a terrific agent all on her own. She is not, not, not an adjunct of her husband.”
“Very true. My apologies for any apparent sexism.” Nolan turned his mild gaze on Quill. “I don’t suppose you would consider…”
Quill choked on the last of the Riesling. “No and no.” She looked at Sophie and burst into laughter. “I’m not doin’ it!”
~
“So they’re gone, all three of the Kilcannons,” Quill said to the image of Myles on her laptop. “Did my emergency message drag you away from anything important?”
“You’re important,” Myles said. “The name you sent on to me was a red flag. I was ready to order a platoon of Marines to come to your re
scue, but it appears it wasn’t necessary.”
“Natalia Petroskova?”
“Althea Quince.”
“Oh.” Quill choked back a laugh. “She’s the brains behind the operation?”
“She’s quite the strategist.”
“I should say she is. You know, she was the one who figured out Brady’s scam early on. He hacked the money from the fete account to get Adela out of the picture and Natalia and Greer into town as the event organizers. The warhead, if there ever was a warhead, had to be transported in a lead-lined truck. Brady figured if Natalia and Greer were a normal part of the fete, it’d be less obvious to find a pair of strangers hauling around a tractor trailer. She had less than twenty-four hours to get Franklin Ruiz hired on as a driver. She wasn’t about to tell me how she managed that.
“Althea knew about the possibility of the warhead early on, of course. Brady’s inquiries about possible buyers weren’t as discreet as he thought they were. So they put Sophie in place as soon as they could. They wanted her to shadow Brady and find out if there really was anything under the lake. She said the navy’s records from that time were incomplete—and a lot of the documentation about the weapons testing had been destroyed. Althea admitted that she and Nolan were a bit past their diving days themselves, and Sophie’s an expert.”
“But Sophie refused?”
“She really wants a life of her own, poor girl. She loves them, that’s clear. But like a lot of parents, they want their offspring to follow in their footsteps. It’s a heck of a good life, if you don’t mind the bullets, according to Althea. And Sophie doesn’t mind the bullets, she says. Where else, she says, could you see as much of the world as she and Nolan have seen on somebody else’s expense account?” Quill tugged at her hair. “The woman’s a lunatic.”
For a moment, they were both silent.
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