IT WAS CLOSE to midnight when Ben Raven brought them home in his Crown Vic. Sherlock, full of pain meds, her right arm in a sling, was singing the theme to Star Wars, but she was so loopy it wasn’t coming out right. She said good night to Ben and let Dillon carry her inside the house. After they had told Graciella what happened, Savich carried her upstairs. He sat her on the side of the bed and started to undress her when his cell phone rang.
Sherlock stopped singing, whispered, “It’s midnight, right on the dot. He has a sense of timing, doesn’t he?”
She watched Dillon nod as he drew a deep breath, saw his control settle in. He let the cell phone ring three times, then nodded to her, and Sherlock dialed the Hoover Building on their land line to alert them that Dillon was on with Moses Grace.
Savich said, “Quite a splash you made, Moses.”
“Lit up the night, didn’t we? And there you and your little wife were. I like that, shows me how important I am to you. Claudia and I had a ball watching all those yahoos blast out of that club, screaming, pushing, knocking each other over. People are so rude, aren’t they? Good manners only on the surface. No such thing as right and wrong when it comes down to survival. I picked the Bonhomie Club just for you, what with all your friends there. I knew you couldn’t stay away.
“And sure enough, here you come roaring up in your shiny red car, just like I knew you would. Claudia saw you jump out and practically licked her lips.”
The old man cackled, hiccupped, and swallowed phlegm. Savich could almost see him rubbing his veiny hand over his mouth. “Hey, a pity about your pride and joy, boy. I believe I had a tear in my eye when it went up in flames.
“Claudia says we’re getting to know each other too well, you know that? Your little wife spots me up in that window. Surprised the hell out of me when she started yelling and firing her gun. She nearly got me, but Claudia pulled me away in time.” The old man sighed. “Then you had to guess what was going to happen.
“Claudia was bummed that your little cutie wasn’t plastered against your Porsche when it blew. She wanted to see her fly through the air, like the pieces of your car.”
Savich let the contempt blast out. “Yeah, you screwed up again, just like at the motel. But you’re an old man, Moses, lost your edge because you’re so sick and weak. You know something else? You’re a liar, a pathetic, twisted liar.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about, boy? We was playing games, we didn’t really want to blow your flesh away from your bones, not at Hooter’s, but if it happened, well then, fun time would have been over, wouldn’t it? What’s this about me lying to you? I ain’t never lied to you, boy.”
“Oh yeah you did. You claimed I tortured a woman, made her scream, and then you said I murdered her. That’s a lie. I never tortured anyone, never murdered anyone, man or woman. Only you and that psychopath Lolita you’re with do that. Why’d you make something like that up, Moses? Are you so pathetic you have to make up ridiculous crap like that to feel important?”
Savich heard the roll of phlegm, heard the old man’s breathing hitch and bubble, then his voice exploded through the phone. “I didn’t make up anything, you bastard! You showed her no mercy, and you’re not going to get any!”
Savich bore down, his voice snarly. “You’re a liar, Moses. Why are you lying?”
“You waited until she was free, and then you murdered her. I’m going to make you sorry for that. Tell you what, boy, I’ll be sure you know who she was before you die. Just before. Everything up to now was for fun, but not any longer. Now I’m going to get to you and I’m going to make you suffer like she did. You’re going to pay.” The phone disconnected, cutting off in the midst of an awful hacking cough. Savich slipped his cell phone into his shirt pocket and turned to his wife. “He sounds like he’s drowning. You called Agent Arnold, let me call Mr. Maitland so he can get enough cops out when we find out where Moses is. Then I’ll get you out of those clothes.”
She touched her hand to his cheek. “That was very well done, Dillon. Did he tell you enough?”
“Yes, I think I know everything I need to, and not only from what he told me. Moses repeated that I killed the woman he’s connected to. Think about it, Sherlock. Moses planted a bomb in my car tonight, right in the middle of dozens of police. No one saw him at the motel or at the cemetery, or anywhere near the Denny’s, though he had to have been near. Who have we ever known who could pull off something like that? Make people see what he wants them to see, not what’s really there, him included.”
She stared up at him. “Only Tammy Tuttle.”
“Bingo,” he said. “She may have learned at his knee.”
“But we looked at her file. We found no connection.”
“And we were wrong.”
She got to her feet. “Agent Arnold will call back in a minute, then we’re going to nail that crazy old man.”
She placed her fingertips against his mouth. “No, don’t undress me and don’t argue. We’re in this together. I’m not going to keel over on you. Hey, I might even sing you another song.”
AT TEN-THIRTY SATURDAY morning, Savich opened his front door to see Ruth with Brewster nestled in the crook of her arm, Sheriff Dixon Noble and his sons standing behind her, grinning.
“Well, this is a surprise. Now, Ruth, I told you guys last night everything’s all right. You shouldn’t have come, you—”
“Be quiet, Dillon, just be quiet. I’ve been so worried, I had to see for myself. Where’s Sherlock?” Then Ruth threw herself against him, Brewster between them, barking manically. “The news reports, Dillon, all those awful clips we saw on TV. It looked like a scene out of hell. Please tell me Sherlock is okay.”
“She’s fine, I promise.”
“Okay, okay. We couldn’t stand it. We had to make sure.”
“In other words,” Dix said, stepping forward to shake Savich’s hand, “you could have been lying to Ruth, could really have been stretched out in a hospital bed, riddled with bullets and burning metal.
“Truth is, we were as worried as Ruth. She was convinced you were being stoic, said she’d belt you one if you weren’t upright and smiling when we got here. Your Porsche—on the news they showed you pulling up in front of the club, panned to all the insane chaos, then they showed the Porsche burning. Some sight that was.”
“All right, Brewster, come here.”
“Be careful, Savich, you know how he is,” Dix said.
“Yeah, I will.” Savich let Brewster lick his chin, then held him slightly away. But Brewster didn’t pee. Rafe said, “We just walked him thirty minutes ago, so I guess his tank’s empty.”
“I’m convinced he has an auxiliary tank,” their father said.
Rafe said to Savich, “Rob says you can get any girl you like when you drive a car like your Porsche.”
“Yeah,” Dix said, “it’s all over for him now, boys. Tough break.”
Sean walked into the entrance hall, his mother behind him. He stopped and stared at Brewster, who was wildly licking his father’s face. He smiled.
Ruth saw the sling. “Ohmigod, Sherlock, Dillon said you hurt your arm, but just a little bit. What happened?”
Sherlock said, “I’m fine, really. It was a piece of flying metal, hardly touched me. Hello, Rob, Rafe, Dix. It’s great to see you guys. Come in, come in. Oh dear, Dillon, quick, move Brewster off the carpet, he’s peeing.”
Half an hour later, the four adults sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and tea and eating raisin-stuffed scones from the new Potomac Street bakery, Sweet Things. The three boys had consumed half a dozen scones and were now in the living room with Graciella and Brewster, who occasionally barked and butted his head against Sean’s hand.
Graciella sat on the sofa, mending a sweater, smiling at the boys and the most adorable dog she’d ever seen.