Jane Ann Royal saw them and waved. When she trotted to them, short blond hair shining in the bright sunlight, long lean tanned legs covering the ground at a fine clip, she was smiling, flushed with victory, not a care in the world. 'Hi, who are you? Alana brought you back so I suppose you're not jewel thieves.'
Sherlock handed over her ID.
Jane Ann Royal studied her creds more thoroughly than Alana. She looked up, frowning. 'FBI? Oh, yes, Caskie told me you people were in town to investigate the murder of that German guy.'
Sherlock's eyebrow went up as she slipped her creds back in her pocket. 'Didn't your husband tell you who the German guy was?'
'No, he was busy, on his way out to some meeting. I heard on TV the dead guy worked for Schiffer Hartwin. I asked Caskie if he knew the guy the next morning, but he said he'd only heard of him, didn't have a clue why the man was even here. What's up?'
'I'm Agent Sherlock and this is Erin Pulaski. We'd like to talk to you, Mrs. Royal.'
'You're kidding-Sherlock? That's very cool.'
'Thank you,' Sherlock said, and smiled. She felt a tug of liking for Jane Ann Royal.
'Come over to the patio, we'll sit down, and Alana can bring us some iced tea.' She turned to wave at the tennis instructor, who waved his racket back at her and disappeared around the front of the house. A few moments later, they heard the motorcycle fire up.
'Your instructor?'
'Yes. Mick Haggarty. Quite a cutie, isn't he? He couldn't make it in the pros and so he teaches at the Glenis Springs Country Club over in Millstone. Actually, Mick wants to go to Hollywood and see his name up in lights, poor schmuck. I've seen him perform in summer stock at Belson College. He's not a bad actor, but everyone knows it's all about who you know and who you are in L.A. And no, we're not sleeping together.' She grinned. 'Well, not yet. I'm still evaluating. His form on the tennis court is excellent, he's got a good sense of humor, so who knows?'
Sherlock said, 'I would imagine your husband doesn't have much time for you, what with the FBI all over him since the murder. Thing is, Mrs. Royal, Caskie did know Helmut Blauvelt.'
'Caskie never has much time for anybody, particularly his sons. He knew Blauvelt? That sounds interesting. All he said to me about it was that he met with you guys yesterday at the local police station, in a grungy conference room, his words, to talk about what he knew about Helmut Blauvelt, which wasn't much, he told me. He wasn't happy about it, I can tell you that. So, you caught him out? How did you manage that? Fry his butt?'
'We singed his butt,' Sherlock said. 'Only singed.'
Erin said, 'Did he seem worried when he spoke to you?'
Jane Ann shrugged, accepting Erin as another cop. 'Caskie's always been a worrier, it's really what he does best. I'm forgetting-he's really smarter than he has a right to be, excellent at planning and sniffing out the marketplace, and that's why he makes the big bucks. The bonuses are quite lovely.' She waved her hand around the house and grounds.
'I see he's many thousands of square feet smart,' Erin said.
'Nearly nine thousand, as a matter of fact,' Jane Ann said. 'And that's just the house.'
The tea arrived and both Erin and Sherlock turned down sugar. Jane Ann Royal loaded in three envelopes of Splenda, raised her glass, and gave them a toast. 'To this beautiful September day. Now, Agents, what can I do for you besides telling you about Caskie's birthmark? It's like a little sea horse on his left buttock, kind of neat, really, very unexpected. When we first got married, I liked to lick it.'
'And now?' Sherlock asked. She felt a tug of liking again for this woman with her spectacular topaz eyes, colored contacts, she assumed.
'Now, not so much. I'll tell you what I can, though it's very little. My husband never talks about work to me.'
Sherlock said pleasantly, 'We'd like to know what you think about your husband sleeping with Carla Alvarez.'
27
Jane Ann Royal didn't blink. She took another deep drink of her tea, threw back her head, and laughed, a healthy laugh, loud and full. When she got herself together again, she saluted both Sherlock and Erin with her glass. 'What do I think? Nothing much, one way or the other. Carla isn't the first. And yes, I've always known about all the women. Caskie's a cheater, always has been. The first time, I was pregnant with Chad.'
'Why do you put up with it?' Erin asked.
'Ah, do I hear a bit of judgment in your voice, Agent? A bit of contempt for the pitiful weak female? Don't concern yourself about me. I like my life, thank you very much, my children like their lives, I believe Alana likes her life, and my husband certainly likes to flaunt his Don Juan image. You saw my tennis instructor. Mick Haggarty, a lovely Irish lad. He's young, has a nice flat stomach, and very well defined muscles. What's not to like?'
Sherlock regarded Jane Ann Royal over the rim of her glass. 'Is Mick Haggarty your first tennis instructor?'
An eyebrow flew up. 'You can't be serious, Agent Sherlock. He's maybe the fourth, fifth. One forgets. I always hire them young, not over twenty-five. Unlike my husband. Caskie tends to like women closer to his age, which seems against stereotype, but there you have it. After seeing him naked nearly every night for fifteen years, after putting up with him in bed when he's hit a dry spell, it's my never-ending pleasure to have a twenty-two-year-old tennis pro strut around. Surely you can understand that, Agent.'
'Well, actually, I can't,' Sherlock said. 'You said your husband never talks to you about work?'
'That's right. Look, I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can help you. Wait a minute, there's something, isn't there, something you've heard? Did you hope I'd fall apart when you told me about my dear spouse screwing another woman and pour out my guts to you?'
Erin said. 'Mrs. Royal, you live with a man who's up to his eyeballs in bad stuff. Come now, surely he's let something drop, something that might help us protect you.'
Jane Ann Royal smiled at them, studied her lovely French manicure, then slowly shook her head.
Sherlock said, voice a bit harder, 'Caskie is in very deep trouble, Jane Ann. Like Erin said, we're talking bad stuff here, real danger. He's playing hardball with people who won't hesitate to do whatever necessary to win. One man's dead already. Help us. Help yourself and your family. Tell us what you know about what's been happening at Schiffer Hartwin.'
'Danger? Me? My kids? Come on, what could possibly be the danger? Good Lord, he works for a pharmaceutical company headquartered in Germany. As I said, he gets great bonuses. He's treated well. Danger, from Schiffer Hartwin? I can tell you what he's been doing for them-he's been selling drugs, coming up with new marketing strategies, for heaven's sake.'
Sherlock said, 'We think someone at your husband's company has broken the law, Jane Ann, and on a global scale. I guess Caskie didn't tell you about the woman who broke into his office Sunday night and copied documents off his computer, documents that may prove he and Schiffer Hartwin are knowingly engaging in unethical, perhaps even criminal, practices?'
'If you want to make me believe you, you've got to be more specific.'
'All right, then.' They weren't one hundred percent certain, but close enough. Sherlock continued. 'It involves a drug called Culovort, which is used with the common 5-FU chemotherapy formula, a very critical drug for cancer. Culovort is now in very short supply and we believe it's because of Schiffer Hartwin's manipulations.'
Jane Ann Royal had straightened in her chair now, shoulders square, focused on Sherlock. Her voice lowered. 'Listen to me, I know nothing at all about this Culovort shortage. I wasn't lying to you, I know very little about Caskie's work. He doesn't bring it home, never has, so how would I know what Schiffer Hartwin is doing?'
Sherlock waited a bit, then said with deadly calm, 'Caskie's involved big-time in this, Jane Ann. He's in deep trouble. The stolen documents will come to light very soon now, and everything will blow wide open, with Caskie in the center of it. After all, he's the one here at the U.S. Schiffer Hartwin headquarters. Germany's far away.
'It's just a matter of time before he gets hauled off to jail or Schiffer Hartwin sends over someone to keep him quiet. Don't you know the murdered man, Helmut Blauvelt, was the main Schiffer Hartwin enforcer?'
