doctors aren’t saying yet if he’ll make it, then we’ll find out all the details. The guards didn’t pay much attention, probably because the killer looked enough like Henry Biggs in size. So that means the uniform fit him well enough.
“The FBI forensic teams are superb. You can bet they will come up with some evidence. It’s rare that a murderer leaves a pristine crime scene.”
“The man who killed my stepfather must have followed him around,” Callie said, “learned his routine, hung around the Supreme Court Building, learned the guards’ routines. Someone had to have seen him, noticed him. Wait, there’s closed-circuit TV in the building. The cameras would show him, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah, we’re already checking the security tapes to see if the killer shows us any features we can use to identify him. The guy had to have visited the building several times, probably in one of the tours. Maybe we’ll see him.”
Callie was stroking her mother’s gloved hands, staring through the windshield at the soft snow. “So that leaves us right now with no obvious motive, and a guard in the hospital with a cracked skull, still unconscious so we can’t talk to him. What does he look like?”
“The Supreme Court marshal told us that Biggs is tall, beefy through the chest, a white guy, around fifty. So our guy can’t be that far off in appearance. I assume you got home before midnight last night, Ms. Markham?”
“Why yes I did. And isn’t this just lovely. I’m a suspect.”
“It’s my job, ma’am. I’m just doing my job.”
Again, Callie wanted to smile, but didn’t. “Do you know,” she said slowly, turning to look out the car window, “I can accept that he’s dead, intellectually.” But there was nothing intellectual about how devastated her mother was. She supposed that it would hit her soon, but for now, she had to protect her mother. It gave her mind focus.
Margaret said, not looking up from Callie’s shoulder, “Callie wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, Detective. We were having a surprise birthday party for her.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Califano. How old are you tomorrow, Ms. Markham?”
“Twenty-eight, Detective Raven. How old are you on your next birthday?”
“Thirty-two on March twentieth.”
Margaret raised her head. “My daughter wouldn’t kill anyone, Detective.”
Callie said, “Well, the thing is, Mom, if I’d had a gun last night, I might have shot that jerk Jonah. As for the bimbo he was with, I thought about drop-kicking her out the window.”
Ben grinned, couldn’t help himself. He was suddenly thrown against the door. Bobby was slipping and sliding all over the street, which was, thankfully, empty. Only cops and idiots would be out in this. It was only another mile or so to the Daly Building. He watched a big black SUV slide very gracefully across the road into a fire hydrant, barely missing an old Caddy. It was a strange moment, he thought, sitting next to this woman, her grief palpable, her life as she’d known it gone in a flash.
“Yes, Detective Raven, I got home about eleven o’clock last night. Delta Shuttle from La Guardia into Reagan. It never even occurred to me to stay in New York.”
He would check that she’d been on board that Delta flight from New York City in any case.
CHAPTER
5
THE HENRY J. DALY BUILDING
METROPOLITAN POLICE HEADQUARTERS
JUDICIARY SQUARE
C APTAIN H ALLOWAY MET them inside the imposing granite entrance of the station house, surrounded by several of his men. He was very solicitous with Margaret Califano and Callie, and said in a low voice to Detective Raven, “Ben, I just got a call from Deputy Assistant Director Jimmy Maitland. Those two agents were brought back from the Pocono Mountains by helicopter. They’re on their way over here to speak to Mrs. Califano. And we’ve got a safe house to take them to for the next couple of days.”
They walked through the security checkpoint into the station. It was warm inside and thick with the smells of sweat, wet wool, coffee, and an occasional whiff of forbidden cigarette smoke. Ben said to Captain Halloway as he warmed his hands, “I guess since a Justice of the Supreme Court is high up in the federal food chain, we’ll have to get used to the Feds. I wonder if these FBI hotshots will be neck stompers.”
“Maitland said these two don’t waste their time on dickhead power plays.’
“Hello, Detective Raven. Good to see you again.”
Ben Raven was grinning even before he saw Dillon Savich, Sherlock at his side, come through the security checkpoint. “Well, I know them, sir. Would you believe this? As I live and breathe, it’s the wild man and his keeper. He’s a lot like you were, Captain, in the bad old days.”
“Hi, Ben,” Savich said, and shook his hand. “Captain Halloway, this is my keeper, Agent Sherlock.”
Ben became serious after he’d made introductions to everyone. “And last, this is Callie Markham, Justice Califano’s stepdaughter.”
Margaret Califano stared at Sherlock. “I’ve never seen such beautiful hair. How do you get all those curls?”
Savich laughed, relieved that the widow could be distracted, if only for a moment. “It takes her hours, ma’am. I beg her to come to bed, but she’ll call out that she’s got one more roller to go.”
Sherlock poked her husband’s arm, then took Margaret’s hand. “You’re very nice to notice, Mrs. Califano. We’re sorry about your loss, ma’am, Ms. Markham. We’re here to help in any way we can. And we will find the person responsible, you can take that to the bank. We know it’s a really bad time for you, and everyone at the Bureau thinks it’s best if you guys were protected for a couple of days. That means keeping you out of the media feeding frenzy that’s already started. In a couple of days, we’ll set up a press conference if you wish and you can say your piece.”
“Justice,” Callie said. “You’re promising my mother justice.”
“Yes, it’s not enough, but it’s all we can offer. Mr. Miles Kettering has loaned us his lovely house in Colfax, Virginia. You won’t be disturbed by the media. We will have agents there, available to you if the need arises. We’ll have agents screen your phone calls and forward important ones to Colfax.” Sherlock didn’t add that both she and Dillon had buckets full of questions, and this, along with their safety, was one of the main reasons everyone at the Bureau wanted Mrs. Califano isolated for a while. Having the daughter with Mrs. Califano was a bonus.
“Why, Agent Savich, would someone kill my husband?”
He heard the bewilderment in Mrs. Califano’s voice, saw it in her ravaged face. “We don’t know yet, but we’ll find out.”
Sherlock said, “I’ll send some agents to pack clothes for the both of you. Ms. Markham, it would be best if you remained with your mother. I imagine the media have found out about you and are camped out right now at your apartment.”
“All right.” Callie saw that her mother was staring at the two FBI agents—no, she was staring through them, obviously overwhelmed. Her eyes were vacant. Sherlock realized it at the same moment. She and Callie each took one of her arms, and half carried her over to a bench. “You sit down, Mrs. Califano. I don’t want you to worry about anything right now. Your daughter will stay with you.”
Margaret raised her head. “But he’s dead, my husband is dead. Gone. And there wasn’t any warning, nothing at all.”
“I know. Put your head down, ma’am, and breathe nice slow deep breaths. Just like that.” Sherlock nodded to Callie. “You try not to worry either. Take care of your mother. Once you’re moved into the Kettering house, we’ll come and talk.”
Margaret whispered something to her daughter.
Callie said, “My mother would really like a cup of tea.”
“No problem,” said Captain Halloway. “If your mother is up to it, we’ll go upstairs to my office. It’s nice and
