Whiplash

11

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 resume, 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.

12

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.'

13

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.