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12
KIRRA
Justice Plaza
Porte Franklyn
WEDNESDAY
Just before noon, an assistant in the commonwealth attorney’s offices directed Savich, Pepper, and Griffin to Kirra Mandarian’s small office on the third floor with its one stingy window overlooking the parking lot. Savich paused a moment in the doorway. She looked to be studying something on her computer, making notes on her iPad, utterly absorbed.
She looked very different from the young girl he’d seen in a photo on Leo Mandarian’s official web page, Extreme Australian Adventures, smiling big into the camera, her teeth sparkling white against her tanned face, maybe sixteen. She was standing with her uncle atop a cliff, an awesome canyon behind them, wearing hiking shorts and stout boots. A backpack was slung over one shoulder and Leo’s big muscled arm over the other, her hair in a ponytail sticking out the back of a ball cap. Leo Mandarian was tall, grinning as widely as she was, a strapping outdoorsman who looked like he could take on a bear.
Kirra Mandarian today looked the classic young professional in a suit and heels, her hair pulled back from her fine-boned face in a chignon. She had her uncle’s vivid green eyes and dark brown hair with lighter highlights added by an expert hand. She wasn’t tan now, her skin a smooth light cream.
Savich cleared his throat. “Ms. Mandarian, could you spare us a few minutes?”
Kirra looked up, nearly froze. She knew he’d be coming, but not yet, not right on the heels of his visit to Hailstock. She also knew it would be normal for him to suspect her since she’d been at the police station last night when Grissom was found. She had to make certain he wouldn’t suspect her, ever. She started to rise when she realized she didn’t have her shoes on and quickly slipped into them. She smiled. “Special Agent Savich! What an honor. I’ve seen you on TV.” She added in her professional voice, “I see you’re still unbowed after your visit with Mr. Hailstock.”
A black brow went up.
She laughed. “This place is gossip central. Anything that happens here is common knowledge in less than two minutes. Isn’t it the same in the Hoover Building?”
Savich said, “As a matter of fact it is.”
“How can I help you?”
Savich introduced himself even though she already knew who he was, showed her his creds, and shook her hand.
Kirra actually studied his creds, smiled again at him. “It’s a pleasure, Agent Savich. Believe me, and let me say it again, your fame precedes you.”
She heard a snicker and saw the woman standing behind him. Savich turned to her. “This is Federal Prosecutor Pepper Jersik.”
Kirra stared as the woman came around Agent Savich to shake her hand—mid-to-late thirties and gloriously tall, the prosecutor looked like she could wrestle one of Uncle Leo’s crocodiles and come out with a crocodile bag over her arm, not a hair out of place. Her hair was so blond it was nearly white, worn loose in soft waves around her face. Her blue eyes were bright with intelligence and something else—humor? Kirra admired her red suit and her matching red fingernails. She seemed to Kirra like a woman who faced life head-on and loved every minute of it.
Kirra said as she shook Ms. Jersik’s hand, “Ms. Jersik, I have a feeling I’d always want to be on your side in court.”
“What a nice thing to say.” Pepper studied the serious young face. She had to admit to surprise. Could they be wrong? Could this lovely young woman really be Eliot Ness?
Savich introduced the other special agent, Griffin Hammersmith. This one was fair where Savich was dark, and as tall and well built. He looked dead serious. A fed with no sense of humor, a slave to his rules and procedures? Kirra said, “You’ve got a strange and wonderful last name, Agent Hammersmith.”
“That’s what my mom says.” Griffin shook her hand. He found himself sketching her cheekbones in his mind, strong enough to laser glass. It was odd, but she reminded him of how his mother stuck her chin out when she was ready to go toe-to-toe about something, a sign Griffin’s dad always respected. His mother was gorgeous, too, turned men’s heads at fifty-five.
Ah, so Hammersmith does have a sense of humor. She wouldn’t underestimate him, or any of them.
Like Savich, Pepper had seen how fit Kirra was in her photos in Australia. She’d felt the calluses on Kirra’s hand when she shook it. But was she strong enough to have carried Grissom to that railing by herself? She’d bet her son Grant’s basketball on it. She said without preamble, “You look remarkably fit, Ms. Mandarian. I read as a teenager you spent years trekking the outback with your uncle and extreme adventure groups. Do you still spend much time in the rough, hiking and camping? Or maybe attend a gym? Practice martial arts? Yes, I noticed the calluses.”
Of course they knew about Australia. If they looked on Uncle Leo’s website, did research on her, they’d also know she broke her wrist when she was fourteen saving a blowhard college boy from backing off a cliff with his cell phone. No way to hide it was easy for her to deliver Grissom by herself. It didn’t matter, it proved nothing.
Kirra shrugged. “Not as much time in the mountains as I’d like, except when my uncle Leo comes to visit. And yes, I practice martial arts, both Tae Kwon Do and karate. It was a necessity given where our team led groups. I even tried Krav Maga when I was in Australia, my uncle’s favorite.”
Griffin said, “I’ll bet you were also taught plain old street fighting.”
“Oh yes, one of our team members, Jawli is his name, taught me, beat me up endlessly. I’ll never forget the time I managed to kick his feet out from under him. Just the one time, alas. Ms. Jersik, do you practice a martial art?”
Pepper nodded. “But you sound much better skilled. I know Agent Savich and Agent Hammersmith could wipe up the floor with me. With you? I wonder.”
Kirra said, “I’ll give you the name of my dojo, if you like.”
