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7
Savich Home
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
TUESDAY EVENING
Savich sat beside Sherlock on the sofa facing a sluggish fire in the fireplace. The warm air was scented with a gardenia potpourri in a bowl on a side table.
“Sean was out after only one verse of ‘Hearts on Fire.’ He was either very tired or thought my newest country-western song was too boring to listen to.”
Sherlock grinned, moved closer, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Well, I really like ‘Hearts on Fire’—but I’m kind of glad Sean didn’t stay awake for the part when the gambler’s woman throws away the broke gambler’s Zippo lighter on her way out and wishes he chokes from all the cigarettes he smokes.”
“In my head the gambler’s name is Maury, but I still need to figure out where to put that in.” He hugged her. “I saw you were checking out the evidence Eliot included on that boy’s murder. What do you think of it?”
“It still needs some nailing down, but I’d say there’s enough solid evidence in that envelope, even apart from Josh’s murder, to justify strapping Grissom to a whale’s back and sending him off to Japan.”
Savich laughed, kissed her ear, leaned in so her hair tickled his face. “I’d prefer the Arctic, but Japan would be okay too.”
Sherlock said, “Some of that evidence still may be determined to have been illegally obtained, but it would all be inadmissible for certain if the cops had collected it like that. Makes me wish we had a bit more latitude. Eliot Ness did a thorough job. He’s really committed, Dillon; I mean, even though he committed a felony kidnapping Grissom and hauling him to the police station, he did it for the right reasons. And he’s talented, Dillon, focused and smart. Really good with computers, I think, and something of a hacker. And our vigilante’s nom de plume—Eliot Ness. Do you think we’re supposed to think of Grissom as Capone?”
“Even though Porte Franklyn isn’t the wild and woolly Chicago of the twenties and thirties, like Capone, Grissom is near the top of the local food chain.”
“If Ness’s evidence is verified, Grissom is a murderer who deals in drugs and embezzles from pension funds. What did Pepper have to say?”
Savich said, “Last I saw her, Pepper was waving pages from the envelope above her head she was so hyped. She’s convinced it will all be admissible because an assistant commonwealth attorney was there at the police station when Grissom was delivered and acted as the affiant, called a judge to get a search warrant before they opened the envelope. But Pepper’s not sure the commonwealth attorney, Simon Hailstock, will agree with her. It’s common knowledge in law enforcement he doesn’t like surprises and takes as few risks as possible. She’s eager to go with Griffin and me to Porte Franklyn tomorrow morning.”
Sherlock yawned. “Let’s go to bed, Dillon, and don’t worry about Emma; Sean and I are picking up the Hunts at Dulles tomorrow.”
“Does Sean know Emma’s coming?”
“All he knows is he has a surprise flying in. Can you believe it’s been six years since we met Ramsey and Emma and Molly? I remember I was pregnant with Sean. And now they have the twins, Cal and Gage.”
Savich grinned. “Ramsey was telling me he doesn’t know what crime he committed to deserve those two hellions. He said they listen more to Emma than to him or Molly.”
Sherlock said, “I wonder if Sean will take one look at twelve-year-old Emma and still expect her to marry him.” She laughed, remembered clearly the Christmas concert the year before at Davies Hall in San Francisco, when eleven-year-old Emma Hunt played Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” to a full house. The lovely memory ended with applause and rolling laughter when her four-year-old Sean yelled out to Emma, asking her to marry him as she bowed to the audience.
“When I think of everything they went through six years ago—Emma being kidnapped and abused by that horrific pedophile, Father Sonny—and now this. She’s too old to be taken by a pedophile, Dillon, so why now? Why her? What’s going on here?”
“Whatever it is, Ramsey and Molly believe she’ll be safer here, with that man who tried to take her at Davies Hall thousands of miles away in San Francisco. He said the SFPD hasn’t made much progress tracking the guy down, much less finding out why he tried to take Emma. But Virginia Trolley is working on it hard, says she’ll keep in touch with them.” But Savich had a premonition they wouldn’t find answers in San Francisco.
Sherlock yawned, kissed his neck. “You can bet every cop in the San Francisco PD is looking out for the guy. None of them want their favorite Judge Dredd and his family threatened. Molly told me Emma worked with a police artist, but the man’s eyes and hair were covered, so it’s impossible to identify him.
“Imagine, Dillon, that beautiful talented girl will be playing in Kennedy Center at the Chopin Retrospective. I’m so proud of her.”
“Ramsey says she’s excited about it, completely focused.”
“They’re staying at the Hay Adams, an early birthday present for Molly, Ramsey told me, a corner suite so when the twins play cowboys and Indians, there’ll be fewer guests to complain.”
Savich’s cell sounded a text.
He read aloud, HAILSTOCK A PROBLEM. YOU’LL NEED TO NAIL GRISSOM ON FEDERAL DRUG CHARGES. ELIOT NESS
Savich did a trace, but no luck. He said to Sherlock, “No surprise. Eliot Ness used a burner.”
