It was just as well because Hannah Paisley turned up just before they were ready to leave. She looked fit and strong, and just about every guy in the gym was staring at her. She was wearing a hot-pink leotard with a black top and black thong.
Savich gave Hannah a salute as he said, 'Come on, Sher-lock. I told you you've got to work on your breathing. More breath or you'll collapse on me just the way you're almost doing now.'
She eyed him and gasped out, 'I'm going to kill you.' 'Good. An entire sentence. You're getting it together again. You want to go shower?'
'I'd drown. I'd fall down, plug the drain, and that would be the end of it.'
'Then let's walk home. A nice walk dries all the sweat.' 'I want to be carried. These legs aren't going anywhere on their own.'
Hannah was standing behind Savich. She lightly touched her fingers to his bare arm. His skin glistened with sweat. 'Hello, Dillon, Sherlock.' Lacey only nodded. She was still breathing hard. 'You're looking good, Hannah,' Savich said. Lacey realized at that moment how clear it was to her that they'd slept together. They were both magnificently made, beautiful specimens. She could imagine how they'd look together, naked, all over each other. She forced herself to smile. To look the way the two of them did, they had to sweat a lot to build those sleek muscles. Lacey wasn't too fond of sweating. She watched Savich squeeze Hannah's biceps. 'Not bad. Look at poor Sherlock here. She's threatening to collapse on me all because she got her arm hurt and we had to spend the time on her legs.'
'She does look a bit on the edge. While she rests up, could you come coach me a minute on my bench presses?'
'Sorry, not tonight, Hannah. Sherlock has to get home, and I promised I'd drop her off.'
Hannah just nodded, smiled at both of them, and walked off, every man's eyes, except Savich's, on her butt.
'She's very beautiful,' Lacey said, pleased she could talk without wondering if she was having a heart attack.
'Yes, I guess so,' Savich said. 'Let's go.'
They stopped for a half-veggie, half-sausage pizza at Dizzy Dan's on Clayton Street.
'You only left me two slices,' Savich said, picking up one slice quickly. 'You're a pig, Sherlock.'
Cheese was dripping down her chin. She was so hungry, she was pleased she hadn't started chewing on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. She quickly grabbed the last slice. It was still hot enough so that the cheese pulled loose and dripped down the sides of the slice. She couldn't wait to get it into her mouth. 'Order another one,' she said, her mouth full.
He did, and this garden delight pizza he ate himself. She was so full she didn't want to move, didn't even want to raise her hand from the tabletop.
'You stuffed?'
'To the gills.' She sighed, sat back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her stomach. 'I didn't realize I was so hungry.'
'If Marlin didn't kill Belinda, then someone else did. Who was it, Sherlock?'
'I don't know, truly, I don't.'
'But you've been thinking about it a whole lot, ever since Marlin told you he didn't kill her. Who had access, Sherlock? Who?'
'Why don't we talk about Florida instead? Or Mississippi?'
'Fine, but you're going to have to face up to it soon. I do have some new information from Florida for you. The latest murder wasn't on the projected map matrix, as you already know. MAXINE is trying to come up with something else. We poor humans are trying too. This time the police made an effort to question everyone in sight. They herded all the residents into the rec room. They wanted to catch your old woman in disguise. The initial word I got back, and what you heard, was that it wasn't someone disguised as an old woman. However, I found out just before we left this afternoon that a new cop had had two of the old folks get sick on him because of the murder and he'd let them go. One was an old woman, one an old man. Was one of them the murderer? No one knows.
'As for the new young cop being able to identify the two old people, we can forget it. All old people look alike to him. He just remembers that one was an old man and he fainted, the other was an old lady and she puked. You can bet your life that he got his ears pinned back, probably worse.
'So, it's still unclear whether or not your theory is right. You know, the likeliest person to kill a wife is the husband.' He'd steered so smoothly back on course that the words just spilled out of her mouth: 'No, Dillon, Douglas loved Belinda. Just for argument's sake, let's say that I'm wrong and he hated her. He would simply have divorced her. There's no reason he would have killed her. He's not stupid, nor, I doubt strongly, is he a murderer. There was no reason for him to kill her, none at all.'
'No, not that you know of. But one thing, Sherlock, he does seem to think too much of you, his sister-in-law. How long has he been looking at you, licking his chops?'
'I'm sure that's just recent. And I think he's over it now.' She remembered him staring at hers and Belinda's photos in her bedroom-all that he'd remembered, all that he'd said about her innocence. She felt a knot of coldness settle deep into her. She was shaking her head even as she added, 'No, not Douglas.'
'Your daddy's a judge, but he wasn't a judge seven years ago. He couldn't have had access to everything on the String
Killer case.'
She wondered only briefly how he knew that, but then wanted to laugh at herself. That was easy stuff. Actually she wouldn't be surprised if Savich knew what the president's next speech would be about. She had complete faith that MAXINE could access anything Savich wanted. 'No, impossible. Don't lie to me, I'll bet you know that my father did have access to everything. He came out of the D. A.'s office. He knew everyone. He could have accessed anything he wanted. But Dillon, how could a man kill his own daughter? And so brutally?'
'It's been done more times than I can remember. Your dad's not all that straightforward a guy, Sherlock, and Belinda wasn't his daughter. He appears to have this mean streak in him. He didn't much like Belinda, did he? He thought she was nuts, like his wife, who claimed that he'd tried to run her down in his BMW.'
She scooted out of the booth, the tablecloth snagging on her purse strap. His two remaining slices of pizza nearly slid off the table.
'Then there's Mama. Does she have mental problems, Sherlock? What did she think of Belinda?'
He was standing there in front of her, very close, and she couldn't stand it. 'I'm going home. You don't have to see me there.'
'Yeah, I do. You've got to do some thinking. You know very well that Ralph York has sent his findings to the SFPD. They just might reopen Belinda's case or they might not. No way of telling just yet. At the very least though, everything we're talking about they'll be talking about too. Douglas could be in some warm water, Sherlock, no matter how you slice it. Daddy too.'
'Since everything is so inconclusive, it's very possible the San Francisco police won't do a thing. I think once they talk to Boston, they'll know it was Marlin. They won't have any doubts. They'll just shake their heads at Ralph's report.'
'I think they will pay some attention. We're all the law. We're all supposed to try to catch the bad guys, even if it might mean opening a can of worms.'
'I've got to call Douglas, warn him. This can't be right, it can't. I never meant for this to happen.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Maybe I'll understand you in another thirty years, Sherlock. Do what you must. Come on. I've got things to do tonight.'
'Like what?'
'My friend James Quinlan plays the sax at the Bonhomie Club on Houtton Street, owned by a Ms. Lily, a super-endowed black lady who admires his butt and his soulful eyes as much as his playing. He tries to be there at least once or twice a week. Sally, his wife, loves the place. Marvin, the bouncer, calls her Chicky. Come to think of it, he calls every female Chicky. But Sally to him is a really nice Chicky. I'll never forget that Fuzz the bartender gave them a bottle of wine for a wedding present. It had a cork. A first. Amazing.'
Now all this was strange. She said slowly, willing, happy to be distracted, even if only for a moment, 'So you go to support him''
He looked suddenly embarrassed. He didn't meet her eyes. He cleared his throat and said, 'Yeah.'
