'I think he would be handsome without those glasses and all that hair and beard.'
'His son is handsome, Mother, very handsome. Here's his photo. But you know, he's got dead eyes.'
Mrs. Sherlock looked at Marlin Jones's photo, stared toward her husband, and fainted, sliding out of the chair and onto the carpet before anyone could catch her.
28
WHAT DO YOU WANT?' Douglas stared at Dillon Savich. He laid down the papers he'd been reading and rose slowly, splaying his fingers on the desktop.
'It's okay, Marge. Let him in. He's FBI. Ah, you're here too, Lacey. Why is he with you? You know I don't like him. He's corrupted you, changed you.'
'He's my boss. He has to be with me.'
'Madigan,' Savich said, barely nodding.
Douglas said nothing. He sat back down in his chair. He crossed his hands over his stomach.
'How are you doing, Douglas?'
'I'm very angry at the moment, but you don't care about that. Why are you here with him?'
Savich said easily as he sat down in one of the plush client chairs opposite Douglas Madigan's large high-tech chrome-and-glass desk, 'It appears Belinda had an affair with Marlin Jones. Did you know about it?'
'No. I don't like your jokes, Agent Savich.'
'No joke, Lawyer Madigan. As far as we know it's a distinct possibility-that Belinda slept with Marlin Jones seven years ago.'
Lacey was watching his face. There was no sign of pain, of anger, of remembered betrayal. Nothing.
'So you're saying you know why he killed her?' 'No, that's not what we're saying. I'm sorry, Douglas,' Lacey said, sitting forward, extending her hand to lightly touch his forearm. 'It seems that there were some things about Belinda none of us knew. We just came from home. Mother saw a photo of Marlin Jones. She fainted. She'd seen him, she said, seen him kissing Belinda in the driveway. At least that's what she told us. You know Mother. One can never be quite certain if the flag is going to be flying high or hanging at half-mast.' 'That crazy old lady is probably right about this. Belinda was a gold-plated faithless bitch.'
They all turned to see Candice Addams Madigan standing in the doorway, a flustered Marge behind her, waving her hands. Douglas smiled and said, 'It's all right, Marge. Tell you what, anyone else comes, just wave them on in. Hello, Candice.'
Candice Addams Madigan walked into the office, head high, beautifully dressed in a pale blue wool suit and a Hermes scarf. 'She was a bitch and she did cheat on you.'
'But was the man Marlin Jones? I doubt it. Where could she have met him?'
Candice gave her husband a scornful look. 'Belinda had low tastes. I've heard that she went to dives, to real low-class places. That's where she would have met this killer. Yes, I'll bet she did sleep with him. She slept with everyone. Why don't you ask her?' She turned and gave Lacey a vicious look. 'Yes, ask the little princess here. She probably went with her sister. Hell, she might have slept with him too.'
Lacey had blood in her eye. Her heart was pounding, she was ready to kill. It was Savich who grabbed her wrist and kept her in her place. 'Ignore her,' he said low, only for her hearing. 'She's miserable-she's so jealous. Let it be. Let's just listen. Consider this a bad play. Let's see if we can't figure out the theme of the play.'
She tried to pull away from him. She couldn't take any more from this miserable woman. 'Okay, then, Agent Sherlock, this is an order from your superior. Don't move and be quiet.'
She tried to calm her breathing, but it was hard. 'That's different, then, but I still want to pound her.'
'I know, but later. Now let's just listen.'
'What are you two talking about?'
Savich smiled at Candice Madigan. 'I was just telling Sherlock that you looked pregnant to me. She insists you're not,
that you look too slender. But I can tell your stomach is out there. Who's right?'
Candice immediately sucked in her stomach, taking two steps away from Savich. Then she realized what he'd done to her. She dropped her hands to her sides, straightened really tall, and shot a look toward her husband. He merely smiled at her. 'Go ahead, Candice. After all, I don't have a client for another twenty minutes. Feel free to talk about whatever.'
Candice Madigan walked to her husband, kissed him on the mouth, then turned to say to Lacey, 'I'm not pregnant but I will be soon. You keep away from my husband, do you hear me? You haven't seen mean until you've seen me mean.'
'Yes, I hear you,' Lacey said. Then she smiled. 'You and Douglas planning a baby, then?'
'We will be soon. It's none of your business. You're a little gold-digging tart, just like your sister. Stay away from Douglas.'
'Oh, she will,' Savich said. 'Now, Candice, how do you know so much about Belinda? She was killed seven years ago. You weren't even around then.'
'I'm an investigative reporter. I looked up everything. I spoke to people who'd known her. She betrayed Douglas, over and over again. All the women in your crowd knew about it. With this Marlin Jones character? Why not? Again, it wouldn't have been a problem for her to run into him at any one of the low-class bars she frequented.'
Savich pulled out his little black notebook and his ballpoint pen. 'Could you give me some names, please?'
She turned stiller than Lot's wife. 'I did this last year. I don't remember now.'
'Give Mr. Savich two names, Candice. Just two.'
'All right. Lancing Corruthers and Dorthea McDowell. They're both rich and idle and know everything about everyone. They live right here in the city.'
Savich wrote down the names. 'Thank you. Actually, I'm pleased that you could come up with even one name. I'm impressed.'
'I am too,' Douglas said.
'They knew all about her too,' she added, nodding toward Lacey.
'That should prove to be interesting,' Savich said, again taking hold of Lacey's wrist. 'You see, I'm hoping she'll agree to marry me, once I ask her properly.' He paused a moment, then looked very worried. 'I sure do hope they won't tell me things that will change my mind about asking you. Were you a loose teenager, Sherlock? Will you corrupt me if I marry you?'
'I don't think that Bobby Wellman could count as loose, do you?'
'Who's Bobby Wellman?' Douglas asked.
Savich just shook his head.
'No one will say anything remotely questionable about La-cey,' Douglas said. 'Look Candice, Lacey was only nineteen when Belinda died. She was even a bit on the backward side for her age. All she did was play the piano. I don't think she ever even saw other people. She just saw her music. Now, tell me that was all a joke about you marrying him, Lacey.'
'He still has to ask me right and proper.'
'No!' Douglas stood now, leaning toward Lacey, and said, his voice rough and low, 'Listen to me, Lacey. I've known you for a very long time. I don't think you should marry this man. You can't. It's a very bad idea.'
'Why, Douglas?'
'Yes, Douglas, why?' Candice asked.
'I know his kind. He doesn't care about you, Lacey. You'd just be another notch on his belt.'
Savich started whistling.
Everyone turned to stare at him. Lacey wanted to laugh, but she held it back.
'Sherlock Savich,' Savich said slowly, looking up at the ceiling, rolling the words on his tongue. 'It has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?'
'Dammit, no, you can't marry him, Lacey. You can't. Just look at him, he's one of those stupid bodybuilder types you see at the gym who are always staring at themselves in the mirror. Their biceps and pecs are all pumped up but their brains are the size of peas.'
