CAU INTERVIEW ROOM
WASHINGTON, D.C.
THURSDAY EVENING
Savich and Sherlock sat across from Alexander in the same interview room they’d been in Tuesday, only two days before, but it seemed a lifetime ago. Alexander sat down, shot his cuffs, and said, “I don’t wish to begin until my lawyer arrives.” He looked down at his watch. “He said he was on his way. It appears he’d been waiting for Grandmother’s call.”
They waited in silence until R. D. Gardener, a formidable criminal attorney, strode into the room five minutes later. He stopped short, recognizing Savich. “Agent Savich, it’s been a while. May I ask why you have brought my client to the Hoover Building tonight? It couldn’t wait until tomorrow, this questioning he told me you demanded to conduct? You threatened to arrest him?”
“Hello, Mr. Gardener, let me introduce you to Agent Sherlock. I don’t believe you two have met.”
Gardener nodded at her, then his eyes widened. “Like most of America, I know your wife. The heroine of JFK. A pleasure, Agent Sherlock. Now, Agent Savich, you will tell me what evidence you have to support bringing my client in at this ungodly hour on a Thursday night.”
“Please sit down, Mr. Gardener, and I’ll lay it out for you and Alexander. On Monday, Venus gave us permission to search the house, after the attempt on her life. It required several days for the forensics team to process all they took from the mansion. They found nothing suspicious, except for traces of arsenic in your medicine cabinet, Alexander.” Savich added to Gardener, “As you may know, Mrs. Rasmussen was being systematically poisoned with arsenic. Why would you have traces of arsenic in your medicine cabinet, Alexander?”
Before Alexander could open his mouth, Gardener said, “You’re telling me you brought Mr. Rasmussen down here because of some traces of a substance in his medicine cabinet? Are you that desperate, Agent Savich?”
Savich continued, “I would certainly like to hear Alexander’s explanation for the arsenic.”
Gardener said, “You searched Mr. Rasmussen’s suite of rooms without his permission? Without a warrant?”
“As I said, Mrs. Rasmussen gave us permission and it is her house.”
“But his rooms are his alone. Your evidence will be inadmissible in court, Agent.”
Savich said, “I’m sure you will argue that point very well if we come to that, Mr. Gardener. Alexander, do you have an explanation?”
“No, I do not. Obviously anyone in the house could have put it there. Do you honestly believe I’m so stupid as to leave arsenic in my bathroom, Savich?”
“That remains to be seen, Alexander, but it’s only one of the reasons you are here. We found calls to a burner phone sold to Mr. Willig made from your cell phone, calls made on Sunday, one day before Willig tried to murder your grandmother on Monday afternoon. You said you didn’t know Vincent Willig. If that is true, then why did you call him?”
Alexander rose out of his chair, leaned close to Savich. “I don’t know the man, I told you that. I did not call him.”
“Doesn’t this all look highly suspicious to you, Agent Savich? As my client has said, how stupid would he have to be to not only leave traces of arsenic in his medicine cabinet but also to make calls that could be traced to the man he was hiring to kill his grandmother? I understand the man was a convicted felon who was murdered last night while in your custody?” He shook his head. “Unfortunate, and very prejudicial to any case you might wish to make.”
Alexander gave a sharp ugly laugh. “Excellent police work. Do you have anything else to ask me?”
Before Savich could answer, Mr. Gardener said, “Look, Agent Savich, the phone calls and the traces of arsenic—hardly enough to get an indictment, I’m sure you’ll agree. Anyone could have planted the arsenic, and I’m sure Mr. Rasmussen doesn’t keep his cell phone on his person all the time. Again, anyone could have tampered with his cell phone.”
“Alexander,” Sherlock said, “where were you early Wednesday morning?”
“Oh, come on, Agent—”
“Where were you, Alexander?”
“I was at home asleep. Alone. Where do you think? At some nightclub drinking my brains out? I certainly wasn’t at the hospital disarming a guard and killing Willig. I’m sure there are cameras at the hospital. Look at them. You won’t see me.” He paused. “But you’ve already looked, haven’t you?”
“Yes, we looked, and no, we didn’t see you,” Savich said.
Alexander rose. “I want to go home.”
“Where were you this afternoon about four o’clock?”
“Why?” Gardener asked.
“Tell us where you were, Alexander,” Savich said.
“I was in my office at the Smithsonian, finishing the paperwork for the acquisition of one of Johnny Cash’s guitars. Would you like my secretary’s number?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Alexander recited the number. “What happened this afternoon?”
Savich stood. “A crime that might be related. You can go now, Alexander. Venus asked me to tell you that she believes it best for both of you if you stay at a hotel until this is cleared up. She’s booked you a suite at the Dupont Circle Hotel. Isabel is sending clothes over. You’re to call her if you need anything else.”
There was an instant of hot silence. Alexander half rose, leaning again toward Savich, this time nearly snarling. “You and I both know this banishment from my home is your doing, Savich. I won’t forget it.”
Gardener laid his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Alexander.”
Savich said, his voice matter-of-fact, even gentle, “Agent Hamish will escort both of you out of the building. Thank you for coming.”
Savich and Sherlock watched them walk down the long hall to the elevator. Sherlock said, “That went about as expected. He didn’t do it, Dillon. He’s perfect for it, from his supercilious nose down to his Gucci tassels. Makes you want to run with the evidence and try to nail him to the wall. But he’s not a moron. It’s all too pat, too convenient, and wheeled right up to our doorstep and dumped so we’d have to step in it. Makes me nuts.”
Savich cursed, nothing really nasty, but still, it surprised her. He was upset. “And someone went to a great deal of trouble to make us believe he’s guilty. So here we are, twisting in the wind. Sorry, sweetheart, I lost it.”
She hugged him. “I think I heard Sean say something like that under his breath just the other day. No worries.”
Savich lightly ran his fingertips down her cheek. “My heroine of JFK. It has a nice ring to it.”
“I sort of like it, too, but one has to be modest, you know?” She kissed him. “There are too many threads dangling to deal with tonight. Tomorrow morning we’ll have the videos. Maybe we’ll see who pushed Delsey into traffic.”
“If Delsey’s smart, she’ll go back to Stanislaus and put all of this behind her.”
Sherlock didn’t think she would and knew Dillon didn’t think so, either. The heart wants what the heart wants. All too true. She’d watched Delsey and Rob in Captain Ramirez’s office. Even though Delsey was furious with Rob, there was still something between them, something deep and urgent, maybe even something lasting. She said, “You know Sean’s over at Lily and Simon’s house for a sleepover. I always think the house feels different without him. I know I’ll keep listening for him—those little snorts he makes in his sleep, his bare feet padding to the bathroom.”
“Tonight, Lily and Simon will hear the little snorts and the padding feet.” He pulled her against him, brought her close. Since they were alone, she leaned up and nibbled on his chin, then kissed him, whispered in his mouth, “Let’s go home, Dillon, and make everything right again with the world.”
He looked down at her beloved face. “What a nice idea,” he said.