5
Eureka, California
Clark Hoyt, SAC of the new Eureka FBI field office, which had opened less than a year before, handed Savich the bottle of pills. “Sorry, Agent Savich. What we’ve got here is a really common antidepressant, name of Elavil.”
“Not good,” Savich said and looked out the window toward the small park just to the left of downtown. The trees were bright with fall colors. If he turned his head a bit to the right, he’d see the Old Town section on the waterfront. A beautiful town, Humboldt’s county seat, Eureka was filled with countless fine Victorian homes and buildings.
“Something I can help you with, Agent Savich? Sounds like something’s happening you don’t like.”
Savich shook his head. “I wish there was something, but the pills are exactly what they should be. I guess it would have been really easy if they were something different. I told you that the Explorer my sister totaled has been compacted. I was really holding out big hopes for those pills. Oh yeah, call me Savich.”
“Okay, Hoyt here. Now, the Explorer-that was done awfully fast.”
“Yes, maybe too fast, but then again, my life’s work is to be suspicious. Maybe it was just very straightforward. As of right now, it’s all a dead end. However, I think it’s time I did a bit of digging on my brother- in-law, Dr. Tennyson Frasier.”
Clark Hoyt, who had heard of some of the exploits of Sherlock, Savich, and MAX, Savich’s transvestite laptop, said, “Don’t tell me that you didn’t do a background search on this guy before he married your sister? Seems to me a brother would have checked out the fillings in his teeth.”
“Well, yeah, sure I did. But not a really deep one. Just that he didn’t have a record, hadn’t ever been in rehab for drugs or alcohol, stuff like that.”
“And that he wasn’t a bigamist?”
“No, I didn’t check on that. Lily told me he’d been right up front about the fact that he’d been married before and that his wife had died. You know something, Hoyt? I wonder now what the first wife died of. I wonder how long they were married before she died.” His eyes brightened.
“Savich, you don’t really think he’s trying to kill his wife? The pills were just what they were supposed to be.”
“They were indeed, and I’m not sure. But you know, information is just about the most important thing any cop can have.” Savich rubbed his hands together. “MAX is going to love this.”
“You know that the Frasiers are a really big deal down in Hemlock Bay and the environs. Daddy Frasier has dealings all over the state, I understand.”
“Yeah. Before, I didn’t see the need to check into Papa’s finances and dealings, but now it’s time to be thorough.”
“Is your sister going to be all right?”
“Yes, she’ll be just fine.”
“I’ve got the names of some excellent psychiatrists in the area-all women, just like you wanted. I hope one of them will be able to help your sister.”
“Yeah, me too. But you know-no matter there’s no proof of any funny stuff, that it really does look like she just drove the Explorer into that redwood on purpose-I simply can’t believe that Lily tried to kill herself. No matter what anyone says, I find myself coming back again and again to the fact that it just doesn’t fit.”
“People change, Savich. Even people we love dearly. Sometimes we can’t see the change because we’re just too close.”
Savich took another look at that lovely park and said, “When Lily was thirteen, she was running a gambling operation in the neighborhood. She would take bets on anything from the point spread in college football games to who could shoot the most three-point baskets in any pro game. Drove my parents nuts. Since my dad was an FBI agent, the local cops didn’t do anything, just snickered a lot. I think they all admired her moxie, but they gave my dad lots of grief about it, called her a chip off the old block.
“When she hit eighteen, she suddenly realized that she liked to draw and she was very good at it. She’s an artist, you know, very talented.”
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
“Actually, her talent comes from our grandmother, Sarah Elliott.”
“Sarah Elliott? Good grief,
“Yep. Lily’s talents lie in a different direction-she’s an excellent cartoonist, lots of humor and irony. Have you ever heard of the cartoon strip
Agent Hoyt shook his head.
“That’s all right. It’s political satire and shenanigans, I guess you could say. She hasn’t done much for the past seven months, since the death of her daughter. But she will, and once she gets herself back together again, I’m sure she’s going to be syndicated in lots of papers across the country.”
“She’s that good?”
“I think so. Now, given her talent, her background, can you really believe that she would try to kill herself seven months after her daughter was killed?”
“A girl who was the neighborhood bookie, then a cartoon strip artist?” Hoyt sighed. “I’d like to say no, I can’t imagine it, Savich, but who knows? Aren’t artists supposed to be high-strung? Temperamental? You said she still can’t remember a thing about the accident?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you going to do?”
“After MAX checks everything out, we’ll see. No matter what, I’m taking Lily back to Washington with my wife and me. I think it’s been proved that Hemlock Bay isn’t healthy for her.”
“Everything could be perfectly innocent,” Clark Hoyt said. “She could have simply lost control of the car.”
“Yeah, but you know something? I saw my brother-in-law differently this time. I saw him through Lily’s eyes, maybe. It’s not a pretty sight. I want to strangle him. Actually, I wanted to throw his daddy through the hospital window.”
Clark Hoyt laughed. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will, thank you, Hoyt. Count on it. Thanks for the names of the shrinks.”
Hemlock Bay, California
On the following Sunday afternoon, four days after her surgery, Lily was pronounced well enough to leave the hospital. She suffered only mild discomfort, because Dr. Larch had stopped by her room, looking determined, and given her some pills to keep the worst of the pain at bay. She still walked bent over like an old person, but her eyes were clear, her mood upbeat.
Sherlock had wanted to ask Dr. Larch about lowering Lily’s meds temporarily on Dr. Frasier’s orders, but Savich said, “Nope, let’s just hold off on that for a while.”
“Nothing else good on the tape,” Sherlock said in some disgust as she removed the small bug from beneath Lily’s hospital bed while Lily was in the small bathroom bathing. “Not even doctors or nurses gossiping.”
Ten minutes later Savich said to his sister as he pushed her wheelchair toward the elevator, “I told Tennyson that Sherlock and I are taking you to see your new shrink. He wasn’t happy about that, said he didn’t know anything about this woman. She could be a rank charlatan and he’d lose all sorts of money, maybe even get you more depressed. I just let him talk on, then gave him my patented smile.”
“That smile,” Sherlock said, “translates into ‘You mess with me, buddy, and even your toenails are gonna hurt.’ ”
“In any case, at the end of all his ranting, there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to get me to convince you to see Dr. Rossetti. I do wonder why he thinks the guy is so great.”
“He’s not,” Lily said. “He’s horrible.” She actually shuddered. “He came back again this morning. The nurse had just washed my hair for me, so I looked human and felt well enough to take him on.”
