Dix nearly fell off his chair. He rose, paced the length of the living room and back again. He felt like a fist was squeezing the life out of his heart. He sucked in a deep breath. He said as he turned to face them, “I mean, really, Savich, this is nuts, some sort of a vicious cosmic joke. The bracelet, Christie’s bracelet, it was on Charlotte’s wrist. Everything ties together now, but how? Did David realize his sister Charlotte was Christie’s twin? Did he murder her? Or was it Charlotte who murdered Christie? But why? Dammit, why?” He slammed his fist against the mantelpiece and winced.
He rubbed his knuckles as he said, “And then there’s Thomas Pallack, bloody rich, hooked up through David Caldicott—it had to be—because Thomas knows Chappy, he was in Maestro. But how would David Caldicott meet Pallack? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’m going to shoot myself.”
“It’s a head slammer, all right,” Sherlock said.
“Lots of pieces flying around,” Ruth said. “But maybe they’ll come together, somehow.”
Dix looked from one to the other. “Why, if Charlotte is innocent, if her husband is innocent, if it’s all a mad coincidence, why then didn’t she simply tell me her brother attended Stanislaus Music School? Like ‘Hey, you’re from Maestro, Virginia? Gee, my brother attended Stanislaus, and isn’t it a small world?’ Doesn’t that seem like the natural thing to say?”
Savich said, “It’s certainly a question to ask her, but a believable answer would be easy, like ‘I forgot, it simply didn’t occur to me at the time,’ or ‘It didn’t seem important.’ “ He handed them a bowl of popcorn. “It’s well salted just as you like it, Ruth.”
“The bracelet, Dix,” Sherlock said, “in your gut, how sure are you really that it’s Christie’s bracelet.”
Dix said, “I was very certain when I first saw it, but all I can truthfully say is that it’s very similar. She even took it off so I could see it. That doesn’t bode well for her guilt, does it? Hooked at the back, where I’d had Christie’s bracelet engraved, but it was as clean as the day the bracelet was purchased. There was nothing there, no sign of the jeweler’s etchings.”
Sherlock said, “We’ve got a guy in forensics who could scrub the queen’s name off her crown and no one would know. Platinum is easy.”
Dix sat back, folded his arms over his chest. “If it could have been removed leaving no sign, then yes, I’m sure. Maybe if we could get ahold of that bracelet your forensics guy could check it out. But the only way I can see of getting ahold of the bracelet is to steal it.”
Ruth said without pause, “I could arrange that. Not you, though, Dix, you don’t have enough experience. I’m sure my snitches have some friends on the West Coast who are into breaking and entering.”
Savich laughed. “It’s true your informant network is top of the line, Ruth, but I’d prefer you didn’t contract out a robbery just yet.”
Sherlock said thoughtfully, “It’s still not a bad idea. If we had that bracelet, we could check out where it was made, and that’d be one unknown down.”
Savich said, “Let’s hold off a while on that. If there is indeed a connection, I can only imagine what the two Pallacks felt when they walked into the Sherlock’s house and saw you, Dix. They had to know they’d been ambushed. At least one of them had to know it was about Christie, probably both.”
“Neither of them showed any signs of recognition at all, and believe me, I was watching their faces closely.”
Sherlock said, “You know, Dix, I’m wondering why Charlotte called you yesterday morning.”
Savich said, “Maybe she and her husband discussed the situation, knew Dix’s sudden presence had to be because of Jules Advere, and decided she should try to get some information out of you.”
“But the bracelet—” Dix said. “I don’t think she knew about it, where it came from, I mean. Or else, why would she wear the thing? It was like waving a red cape in front of a very pissed bull.”
Savich said, “I’m thinking you need to come at it from another direction. Maybe you and Ruth should take a trip to Atlanta.”
Dix slowly nodded. “Very nice idea.”
“But don’t strangle David Caldicott yet, all right?”
“Oh boy, this is getting wild very quickly,” Ruth said. Her cop’s eyes were alight with excitement and anticipation, but they quickly clouded with worry for Dix. She managed to smile at him, patted his arm. “Good. We’ve got a plan. So, are you all ready for this? Rob pitched five straight innings without a hit yesterday against the Crescent City Panthers.”
Dix laughed, letting the tension go for a minute. “He talked nonstop last night until Rafe finally punched him and I had to pull them apart.”
Sherlock said, “Do you know that was the first thing Rob talked about with Sean when you guys got here? Now Sean worships him.”
Savich looked at his watch. “Lily, Simon, and the boys won’t be back from the movies for another half hour at least. I’m betting the boys will talk her and Simon into some ice cream.”
“I think it was an action movie,” Sherlock said. “They’ll come back wired, count on it. I only hope Sean didn’t get too excited when the hero got into trouble. At home he starts jumping up and down yelling out advice in his father’s voice. Not mine. Go figure.”
Ruth said, “Sean will take his cues from what Rob and Rafe do, which is to sit there, eyes glued to the screen, shoveling in buckets of popcorn.”
Dix jumped up and began pacing. “Sorry, guys, I can’t help it. I need to get more information on David Caldicott before Ruth and I go to Atlanta.”
Savich said, “You can sit down, Dix, MAX has already checked him out. There were no red flags, no criminal record, nothing questionable. He’s thirty-three, as I said, more a loner than not, he keeps to himself, no wife—presents himself to the world as a talented geek.
“He’s played violin with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra for nearly three years. Word is he’s very good.”
“Sounds straightforward,” Dix said. “But all of you know it isn’t, it simply can’t be.”
Sherlock chewed more popcorn. “Dillon will let you know if anything else pops. Now, what did Thomas Pallack say to Jules Advere when he was lying on the floor?”
Dix didn’t have to consult his notebook. “He said, ‘My wife’s name is Charlotte. Do you understand? Don’t forget it.’ “
Sherlock hummed. “Seems a mite of an overreaction, doesn’t it? Rather than showing concern about Mr. Advere’s collapse? Surely that’s odd.”
Savich said, “To us, sure, but to them? Who knows? Okay, Thomas Pallack and Charlotte Pallack have been married two years and eleven months, not that long a time after Christie disappeared.”
“Other than a big-time politico,” Dix said, “what else is Thomas Pallack?”
“There’s no shortage of information on him. Pallack made a huge fortune in oil—drilling, refining, distributing, had his fingers in every slice of the pipeline pie. Like Chappy told you, he’s invested broadly now.
“When he got out of the oil business in the early nineties, he went big into private equities. It wasn’t all that risky for him because he knew a whole lot of powerful financial people who probably owed him. He’s made several killings in those ventures working with his high-roller cronies. The SEC has wanted to chat with him over the years, but they haven’t gotten past his phalanx of lawyers yet. The lawyers plow the IRS under every couple of years too, when they have the gall to audit him.
“Recently he’s expressed an interest in an ambassadorship, not to Chad or Slovenia, but a major country in Europe. That may be why he’s raised such big bucks on the national political level. On the surface he’s like any number of other wealthy individuals looking for a payoff from a sitting president, but there’s quite a snag—” Savich gave them a manic grin.