Lacey had blood in her eye. Her heart was pounding, she was ready to kill. It was Savich who grabbed her wrist and kept her in her place. "Ignore her," he said low, only for her hearing. "She's miserable-she's so jealous. Let it be. Let's just listen. Consider this a bad play. Let's see if we can't figure out the theme of the play."
She tried to pull away from him. She couldn't take any more from this miserable woman. "Okay, then, Agent Sherlock, this is an order from your superior. Don't move and be quiet."
She tried to calm her breathing, but it was hard. "That's different, then, but I still want to pound her."
"I know, but later. Now let's just listen."
"What are you two talking about?"
Savich smiled at Candice Madigan. "I was just telling Sherlock that you looked pregnant to me. She insists you're not,
that you look too slender. But I can tell your stomach is out there. Who's right?"
Candice immediately sucked in her stomach, taking two steps away from Savich. Then she realized what he'd done to her. She dropped her hands to her sides, straightened really tall, and shot a look toward her husband. He merely smiled at her. "Go ahead, Candice. After all, I don't have a client for another twenty minutes. Feel free to talk about whatever."
Candice Madigan walked to her husband, kissed him on the mouth, then turned to say to Lacey, "I'm not pregnant but I will be soon. You keep away from my husband, do you hear me? You haven't seen mean until you've seen me mean."
"Yes, I hear you," Lacey said. Then she smiled. "You and Douglas planning a baby, then?"
"We will be soon. It's none of your business. You're a little gold-digging tart, just like your sister. Stay away from Douglas."
"Oh, she will," Savich said. "Now, Candice, how do you know so much about Belinda? She was killed seven years ago. You weren't even around then."
"I'm an investigative reporter. I looked up everything. I spoke to people who'd known her. She betrayed Douglas, over and over again. All the women in your crowd knew about it. With this Marlin Jones character? Why not? Again, it wouldn't have been a problem for her to run into him at any one of the low-class bars she frequented."
Savich pulled out his little black notebook and his ballpoint pen. "Could you give me some names, please?"
She turned stiller than Lot's wife. "I did this last year. I don't remember now."
"Give Mr. Savich two names, Candice. Just two."
"All right. Lancing Corruthers and Dorthea McDowell. They're both rich and idle and know everything about everyone. They live right here in the city."
Savich wrote down the names. "Thank you. Actually, I'm pleased that you could come up with even one name. I'm impressed."
"I am too," Douglas said.
"They knew all about her too," she added, nodding toward Lacey.
"That should prove to be interesting," Savich said, again taking hold of Lacey's wrist. "You see, I'm hoping she'll agree to marry me, once I ask her properly." He paused a moment, then looked very worried. "I sure do hope they won't tell me things that will change my mind about asking you. Were you a loose teenager, Sherlock? Will you corrupt me if I marry you?"
"I don't think that Bobby Wellman could count as loose, do you?"
"Who's Bobby Wellman?" Douglas asked.
Savich just shook his head.
"No one will say anything remotely questionable about La-cey," Douglas said. "Look Candice, Lacey was only nineteen when Belinda died. She was even a bit on the backward side for her age. All she did was play the piano. I don't think she ever even saw other people. She just saw her music. Now, tell me that was all a joke about you marrying him, Lacey."
"He still has to ask me right and proper."
"No!" Douglas stood now, leaning toward Lacey, and said, his voice rough and low, "Listen to me, Lacey. I've known you for a very long time. I don't think you should marry this man. You can't. It's a very bad idea."
"Why, Douglas?"
"Yes, Douglas, why?" Candice asked.
"I know his kind. He doesn't care about you, Lacey. You'd just be another notch on his belt."
Savich started whistling.
Everyone turned to stare at him. Lacey wanted to laugh, but she held it back.
"Sherlock Savich," Savich said slowly, looking up at the ceiling, rolling the words on his tongue. "It has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?"
"Dammit, no, you can't marry him, Lacey. You can't. Just look at him, he's one of those stupid bodybuilder types you see at the gym who are always staring at themselves in the mirror. Their biceps and pecs are all pumped up but their brains are the size of peas."
Lacey said mildly, "Douglas, you need a reality check here. You need to get a grip."
"All right. So he can play with computers, that's no big deal. He's a nerd with big arms. You can't marry him."
"Well she can't marry you, Douglas, you're already married to me." Candice took one step toward Lacey, then pulled up when she saw the look on Savich's face.
"Congratulations," Candice said, stepping back. "I do mean that. Marry him."
"This is getting us nowhere fast," Savich said. "Now, Candice, Sherlock and I are here to speak to Douglas about Belinda. Would you like to stay or go?"
"Why? Belinda's been dead for seven years. Her killer is in jail, in Boston. I've even given you two names, women who knew her, who knew what she was like. Why are you talking to Douglas? He doesn't know anything."
"There are all sorts of loose ends, ma'am," Savich said. "Tell you what, why don't we come back, after you and your husband bond or kill each other or eat lunch or whatever else you'd like to do?" Savich rose as he spoke, his hand out to Lacey. She looked at that big strong hand and smiled. She still wanted to belt Candice.
"No, wait," Douglas called out, but Savich just shook his head and waved.
She said as they walked from Douglas's office, "What will we do now?"
"Let's just duck around the corner for a minute. Douglas's door is still open, Marge isn't at her desk. Who knows? Maybe we just might hear something we shouldn't."
They moved as close to the open door as they could, pressing back against the wall.
"You can't still want her, Douglas. Didn't you see what she was wearing? By God, she even chews her thumbnail!"
Lacey looked at her thumbs. Sure enough, one thumbnail was nearly down to the quick. How had that happened?
"That's enough, Candice," Douglas said. He sounded incredibly tired. "That's really quite enough. She shouldn't marry him. I'll have to think about this, then write down all the good sound reasons why it wouldn't work. This shouldn't be happening."
"No, what shouldn't be happening is that you still lust after her. Are you blind? What's there to lust over? Get over it, Douglas. Buy some glasses."
Douglas didn't appear to have heard her-that or he was just ignoring her. He said, "They're back here because of Belinda. There must be something going on with Marlin Jones. Savich called them loose ends, but I don't trust that bastard. God knows. Mrs. Sherlock claimed she saw Marlin Jones kissing Belinda in the driveway. You say that it's likely Marlin had slept with Belinda, but you're just jealous, Candice. You didn't know Belinda. Damn, it's all nuts. I don't understand any of it, but I think they must doubt that Marlin Jones killed Belinda. Maybe they think I killed her and that's why they're here."
"That's crazy, Douglas. They don't have a clue. They're just here fishing around. Just keep your mouth shut. Now, take me to lunch. I have to be back at the station at two o'clock."
"We're outta here," Savich said. They were in the elevator and on their way down from the twentieth floor of the Malcolm Building within a minute.