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63
GEORGETOWN
M STREET
CLYDE’S OF GEORGETOWN
SATURDAY NIGHT
Savich, Sherlock, Pippa, and Wilde sat in a booth, a bit away from the happy laughter and conversation at Clyde’s bar.
Chief Wilde said, waving a barbecue rib in his hand, “I’m asking for probation for Mrs. Trumbo, some community service, along with a stern lecture on her poor judgment in not reporting a death, self-defense or not. Of course, she would have done it if Marsia Gay hadn’t extorted her. I can’t see putting her in jail for helping her son, either, even after he attacked Cinelli. Mrs. Trumbo hugged me, and Ronald pumped my hand even though he knows he’ll have to do some time, no way around it.” He dabbed a bit of barbecue sauce off his chin. “Great ribs. I hear yours are even better, Sherlock, according to your husband.”
Sherlock laughed. “What else could Dillon say? We’ll have you over after New Year’s when we have kitchen appliances again. Our logistics expert said something always goes wrong, in her experience. But Clyde’s is always good. Glad you’re enjoying it.”
Wilde said, “Look at all the bones on my plate. Do you know, when Mrs. Trumbo hugged me, I smelled oatmeal cookies?”
Pippa grinned at him. “She hugged me, too. Alas, no oatmeal cookie smell. After Mrs. Trumbo and Ronald gave Sonja even more details of Marsia’s extortion and blackmail scheme, she was so happy she’d have thrown the Trumbos a parade if she could. But what about us? We deserve a parade, too, don’t you agree, Wilde?”
He laughed, patted her hand. “I gotta admit, Cinelli, when you showed up at my house all banged up, pathetic, really, you perked me right up. I’ve had as much fun these last few days as I ever had in Philadelphia.” He paused a moment, fiddling with the final rib on his plate. “I’d forgotten the rush, the challenge. I’m thinking it’s time I moved on, left St. Lumis, maybe moved here to Metro. What do you think, Savich?”
Savich said slowly, “St. Lumis was a good place to heal, Chief. You interested instead in the FBI?”
Wilde reared back in his chair. “Become a Fed? Like Cinelli here?”
Sherlock said, “You have excellent big-city police experience, Chief. Unless you stole coffee money from the homicide division pot in the Philadelphia PD, I think the FBI would be proud to have you, and very lucky. From what Pippa says, you have a good brain. Not as sharp and fast as hers, of course, but still.”
“Something to think about,” Wilde said, and wondered how Savich knew he’d had to leave Philadelphia to heal. He realized now he wanted to be back in the game, the real game. He said, “When does Marsia Gay go to trial, Savich?”
Savich took the last bite of his pesto pasta, chewed, and sighed with pleasure. “Sonja told me the first week of March. That will give Veronica Lake time to get well enough to take the stand and provide the testimony to nail the cell door on Marsia.” He paused as he looked thoughtfully at his green beans. “I visited Veronica yesterday. She seemed different, more centered and self-aware, I guess you could say. Quite a thing to almost be murdered. When I left, she thanked me, told me her time with Marsia seemed like an ugly dream now, that she’d lost herself. She wants to make amends and wants to start in prison. She can teach, she said, she can listen. She’s hoping she can heal herself.”
Sherlock said, “We’re endlessly grateful Veronica didn’t die and is eager to put Marsia in jail for the rest of her life.” She sat back, took a sip of wine, gave them a big smile. “It’s all good.”
“One less psychopath to sow misery and chaos in the world,” Pippa said.
Sherlock turned to her. “The CAU will miss you, Pippa, but your unit chief was clicking her heels knowing you’ll be back on Monday. Jessie told me she wasn’t surprised you did a great job, because she’d trained you herself.”
“I’ve learned a lot from her, of course, but—” Pippa took a sip of her rich cabernet, carefully set down her wineglass, and looked at Savich, who nodded. She said, excitement in her voice, “Yesterday I asked for a transfer to the CAU, with Dillon’s permission and backing. I really did like bringing down white-collar slime in Financial Crimes, then again—” She shrugged. “I think the CAU is the best fit for me. Now I have to wait and see.”
Savich raised his glass. “Let me announce, Agent Cinelli, despite your current boss’s best efforts, you won’t be returning to Financial Crimes. I talked to Mr. Maitland, and he’s pleased to approve your transfer to the CAU. You’re ours now.”
“The fourth woman in the unit,” Sherlock said, and squeezed her hand. “Welcome aboard.”
Savich’s cell phone vibrated. He looked down, then rose. “Excuse me a moment.” He walked to the arch that led to the restrooms. “What’s going on, Griffin?”
“Rebekah has asked me to accompany her and Kit to Amsterdam. They’re on the trail of a forged van Gogh. Several days, maybe a week. Is this all right with you?”
Savich smiled. “I think it’s a great idea. Take a week. Help them track down forgers, make the art world a better place. How is Rebekah doing?”
“Kit told me she’s been on the quiet side, understandable with all that’s happened in the past week and a half. She doesn’t want to talk about it. We’ve both left her alone to sort through things herself.
“Rebekah did tell me she spoke to her half sister, Caitlin, and Rebekah has made plans for the three of us to fly to Spain after she and Kit finish in Amsterdam. On the way home Rebekah also asked Kit and me to stop with her in Birmingham, England, to meet her mother, Constance Riley.” Griffin paused a moment, added, “I assume Caitlin told her all about her birth mother, since Gemma wouldn’t give Rebekah the time of day, and there’s no one else who knows. Rebekah’s spoken on the phone to her mother, quite a thing for both of them. She said she’s looking forward to meeting her daughter.”
“You’ll be a rock for her, Griffin, you and Kit both. And there’s no reason for you all to stay here. Gemma refuses to see anyone again, Duvall would seriously like to pin someone to gain leniency but can’t, and Zoltan has managed to disappear quite effectively, if she survived the gunshot. And I’ll bet my Redskins tickets she did. But who knows, maybe something will turn up.” Savich doubted it. He added, “You make Rebekah smile, Griffin, maybe tell her Congressman Manvers lost his greatest asset, namely her. I can understand her being private about their breakup. A great deal has happened for her to work through, but it came as a surprise.”
Griffin said, “True enough. Kit will be a great support to her. She’s got this wonderful smile, a really sly wit, and she loves Rebekah. And you wouldn’t believe how smart she is, she—” Griffin coughed, shut up.
Savich was grinning into his cell, but his voice was matter-of-fact. “Yes, she is.” He paused a moment, then said, “Do you know, Griffin, I find myself wondering whether Rebekah knows more than she shared with us about the Big Take. Do you think she might know where it’s hidden?”
“I asked her, and she just gave me a look. Yes, she knows, but I doubt she’ll ever tell a soul. She’s only sorry Gemma won’t ever pay for her crimes, especially for killing Nate.”
As Savich walked back into Clyde’s dining room, he thought, Sometimes there isn’t any justice even if you know the truth. But acceptance was difficult. Still, Clyde’s lights were soft, the conversation low and steady, the waiters were bringing plates, pouring drinks. He looked up to see Sherlock smiling toward him and let it go. He thought about Griffin and Kit Jarrett. You never knew. People were amazing.
