Whiplash (9 page)

"No, really, it's just that I-" Royal saw that look, recognized it immediately, gave Savich a shrug, and said finally with a smirk, "What the hell. Carla's hot, you know? She loves sex, unlike my wife, and knows more ways to do it than I do. She had a bad divorce a while back, so there's no chance she'd want more than sex and some laughs."

"A pity you had to deal with the break-in and the cops instead of enjoying yourself."

"Yeah, that's the truth."

"You must have some idea of who broke in last night and why."

"No, I'm sorry, I don't."

"Mr. Blauvelt's body was found behind your building, at the edge of Van Wie Park, an area few people ever go since the undergrowth is so thick. Come now, who could Blauvelt have sent to break into your office? Was he here in the building with her? Did you or someone here come in on him, kill him, then panic and dump him out back?"

"No, that is ridiculous! I am trying to cooperate with you, Agent Savich. You have no right to treat me like a criminal. I should get one of our lawyers in here."

"Would his name be Bender?"

Royal froze. Slowly, he took his hand off the phone. "Yes," he said, "it would. We call him Bender the Elder."

Savich said easily, "We are nearly done here, Mr. Royal. I don't believe Bender the Elder is needed, do you?"

Royal chewed that over a moment, then drew in a deep breath, and nodded.

"Tell me, how long have you been having an affair with Carla Alvarez?"

"If you must know, not all that long. Maybe four months. I was getting tired of her, truth be told. You know how it is, you screw an older woman, and she gets ideas." He shrugged.

Older woman? Savich had seen a photo of Carla Alvarez. Caskie Royal had at least seven or eight years on her. He looked hard at Royal. He looked just a bit shaken, but still well in control. Savich said easily, "No, I can't say I've had that experience, Mr. Royal."

CARLA ALVAREZ'S OFFICE

Sherlock asked again, "If Helmut Blauvelt wasn't here to see you, was it Caskie Royal? There was something in Royal's files Blauvelt wanted to see, something Mr. Royal had done, right? I find it strange Mr. Royal didn't mention Blauvelt to you last night when the two of you were together. Royal had to be worried that Blauvelt was here, and terrified of what he'd find out. How about you, Carla? Were you terrified too? Were you part of-what? A cover-up, maybe some profit skimming, some doctored financial reports? Something your German bosses found out about and sent their Mr. Fix-It to take care of ?"

Carla said quickly, "No, no, they've been quite pleased, our profits have been unexpectedly high, and now- No, there was nothing like that, look, I have no idea about any of this, Agent, none at all."

Unexpectedly high profits?
What was that slip all about? She pressed on. "So Blauvelt came over here to work with Mr. Royal because of this windfall?"

"No, there is no windfall that I know about. I misspoke."

"So Mr. Fix-It is murdered his very first night on our soil. If you and Mr. Royal didn't kill him, who did, Ms. Alvarez?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know."

"How long have you been sleeping with Mr. Royal?"

"My private life is my own affair! Just because I'm a woman, even you, another woman, immediately suspect me of sleeping my way to the top." Carla Alvarez drew herself up. She stared straight through this obnoxious FBI agent with her cool leather jacket and her curly red hair. "You have been listening to gossip, Agent Sherlock. I'm surprised that an FBI agent would listen to meaningless gossip."

"Ah, we listen to all sorts of things, Ms. Alvarez, and sooner or later we learn just about everything that's important. Do you know, I'd bet your beautiful leather briefcase that his wife already knows about the two of you.

"If I were you, I'd update my résumé, Carla. You're divorced, right? For nearly two years now? Your ex burned you to your heels, and on top of that you have to pay the loser alimony."

"Yes, that miserable-I resent this. My personal life has nothing to do with the death of Helmut Blauvelt, Agent, and nothing to do with the break-in in Mr. Royal's office. I could be sleeping with half the staff here and it would still have nothing to do with any of this."

"Actually, it does, since you and Mr. Royal were here about the same time Mr. Blauvelt was getting himself murdered and dumped in the bushes in your backyard. Tell me, what was copied off Mr. Royal's computer files, Ms. Alvarez?"

"As I already said, Mr. Royal told the two officers he saw that nothing was accessed, nothing erased or disturbed."

"Of course he'd lie to the police, but not to you, Ms. Alvarez. I suppose since you're sleeping with him, you're very likely a part of this. You were with him when he discovered the thief. Mr. Royal must have been really upset because of what was copied. What was it?"

"No, the thief ran off, we ran him off before he could get to Caskie's computer."

"What was the thief after?"

"I don't know!"

Sherlock said, "I agree it wasn't Blauvelt who was in Royal's office, even though he could have walked in and accessed anything he wanted. The thing is, he couldn't have fit himself through that small bathroom window. So he hired someone. It had to be a woman. Do you know who she could be?"

"No, I have no idea!" Alvarez looked battered. The well was dry, Sherlock thought. She said gently, "I sure hope Caskie Royal is an excellent lover, Ms. Alvarez, because meeting him here was a very bad decision on your part."

Alvarez looked down at her nails, frowned at the hangnail on her thumb. She didn't look up as she said, "No, not particularly. Like you said, Agent, men are dogs."

"You're a smart woman. You should clean up your act. Now, tell me how you see this going down, Ms. Alvarez. Don't give me the tired old line about a mugger. Who do you think murdered Helmut Blauvelt?"

Carla Alvarez sagged against her desk. "I wish I knew, Agent. I'd tell you. Then I'd never have to see you again. You're a bitch."

"And proud of it," Sherlock said, gave her a smile, and left her office.

STONE BRIDGE POLICE STATION

Sherlock and Savich sat in wooden chairs across from the ancient desk Bowie had been temporarily assigned in the local police department.

Sherlock said, "I agree with Dillon. Let's get Caskie Royal in here tomorrow and have at him. No more kid gloves like you used today, Dillon, we'll catch him by surprise. Bring on the lawyers, it'll be fun."

Savich said, "If I were his boss, I'd lawyer him up and dare us to connect Blauvelt's death with Schiffer Hartwin." He paused a moment. "You know, I would like to go a couple rounds with Bender the Elder." He smiled a smile that would make the Devil rethink things, Sherlock thought. He continued, "What you found out, Sherlock, about this unexpected profit. I have a gut feeling you're on to something.
Unexpected profit
. It's worth looking into. I think I'll get MAX started on this. It could be someone in Schiffer Hartwin is involved in something unethical and illegal that's dumped money in their laps, and that's what Alvarez was referring to."

Bowie said, "A windfall profit. I like the sound of that."

Savich said, "I'll call Dice, see if we have any whistleblowers from Schiffer Hartwin who've come forward."

Bowie said, "Since that landmark criminal and civil fine last year of two point three billion dollars levied against Pfizer, I wouldn't doubt it. I wondered how much of that money the six whistleblowers split among them."

"Enough for a whole lot of encouragement," Sherlock said. "Admittedly, though, their lives couldn't have been fun for most of a decade, but in the end, it paid off big-time for them. That two point three billion dollars represents about a year of profits for Pfizer. Do you think it's enough to make some of the drug companies clean up their act?"

Bowie said, "Don't know. I'm rooting for Health and Human Services myself. I know they'll be monitoring Pfizer for the next five years, since no one trusts them to keep to a straight path." Bowie looked down at his watch. "I've got to go. I'll pick you guys up for our date at Chez Pierre, at eight forty-five, okay?"

They watched him dash out of the small makeshift room where he and four other FBI agents were temporarily housed. The Stone Bridge police chief, Clifford Amos, obviously wasn't happy about the feds invading his police station, and the accommodations he'd provided them showed how he felt about it.

Agent Dolores Cliff leaned forward in her ancient creaky chair, behind an even more ancient desk than Bowie's. "Bowie's got to pick up his daughter from school and take her to the new babysitter."

Erin came down on her knees to look Georgie Richards in the face. "You wanna stay with me for a couple of days, Georgie? Your dad and I decided it'd be more fun to stay here rather than me trucking over to your house. What do you think?"

Georgie was looking toward Erin's colorful living room, with bright pillows tossed on the green-and-white-striped sofa, a huge red beanbag in the corner, and framed posters of Degas ballet dancers on the walls. "I don't know," Georgie said, taking a step toward the living room. "Maybe you're not such a good roommate."

"Hey, anyone who can teach smart-mouthed kids how to demi-plié has to be a good roommate."

Georgie said, "You are a good dancer."

"Yep, I can dance up a storm. My grandmother told me my second arabesque was the most graceful she'd ever seen. Hmm, I think she told my mother the same thing. Anyway, maybe I could give you extra pointers. For free. I've got a surprise for you in your bedroom."

"A surprise?"

That got the kid's attention. "All surprises are better if you have to wait awhile."

Georgie was nearly humming with excitement. She'd scored a point on that one, Erin knew, and tried not to smile. Then Georgie said as she touched her fingertips lightly to the leaves of an African violet, "Can you cook?"

"Hard to get, aren't you? Sure, nearly as well as I can dance. Wait'll you taste my Nutcracker Brussels sprouts and Swan Lake cabbage salad."

The little girl grabbed her stomach. "Eeew! Daddy, tell her I can do the cooking, I know some great recipes. Daddy loves them."

Bowie laughed. "Her hot dogs with chili and grated cheese on top and her famous Special K with sliced baked apples stirred in are the best I've ever had."

"That does sound good," Erin said. "Hmm, maybe we could work something out."

"Daddy washes my clothes for me when Glynn doesn't. Will you, Erin?"

"Okay, maybe I could do that."

"And ironing-?"

"That's pushing it, kid. Your dad can iron for you before he goes to bed, how about that?"

"I just don't know, Erin. Daddy says he's got some real heavy stuff to do. I don't know if he'll ever go to bed until he catches these bad guys."

Erin didn't want to, but she looked up at Bowie Richards-Special Agent Bowie Richards, SAC of the New Haven field office-and recognized him for the predator she knew he could easily be. She wasn't fooled for a minute by the thankful father who saw her as his salvation. If only he knew. She'd already cursed herself from here to Bratislava thinking this over. She'd done it for Georgie, but she'd also realized if she was careful, she could work with this. Just maybe when he came over to visit his daughter, she could be subtle enough so he'd never know she was easing information out of him. She could do subtle well, her case successes told her that. The huge ball of fear she'd felt since this morning dissolved a bit in her belly.

She saw Bowie Richards look at his watch. She got to her feet and shook his hand, a big hand, callused. "I'll even iron her clothes, but I draw the line there. Georgie, you've got to make up your own bed."

The look of absolute relief on his face nearly made her laugh. "Georgie's been making her own bed for two years now, haven't you, baby?"

"I'm seven years and six months old now, Daddy, I'm not a baby."

"How could I be so blind? Forgive me." He went down on his haunches and hugged her, breathed her in. "I'll come visit whenever I can, but like I told you, I'm up to my earlobes in a big gnarly mess right now."

"Will you come back for dinner tonight?"

"No, sweetie, I'm sorry. I've got to have dinner with two hotshot FBI agents the bosses sent up from Washington."

"And they need you to show them what to do, right?"

She believed in him absolutely, Bowie thought, looking at that precious face and huge dark blue eyes, her mother's eyes. He nodded. "Yes, sweetie, they need my help."

He kissed his daughter again, told her to mind her manners, ruffled her dark brown hair, his hair, and rose. "Thank you, Ms. Pulaski, I owe you big for this."

Erin prayed she'd never have to collect on the debt.

And so it was done. Erin had a roommate for two days, then they'd reevaluate, Bowie had said in a hopeful voice.

Georgie shook her head and said in a too-adult voice, "He's worried, I know he is, but he doesn't say anything. Some German man got killed in Van Wie Park, and Daddy's got to figure it all out. He said he found out who the man was because of his teeth. He didn't have any ID either. I heard Daddy say that on the phone. I hope the agents from Washington will be able to help."