Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(27)

“I think the woman’s a criminal, and she may be responsible for all that’s happened. I think you should arrest her, Agent Savich, or at least haul her in to the Hoover Building for questioning.” He sat forward, clasped his hands between his knees. “Rebekah is frightened, and so am I. If you hadn’t been in Celeste’s neighborhood at just that time, what would have happened to her? I know you’re concerned as well, enough to assign an agent to guard my wife.”

Savich said, “I’d already decided to bring Zoltan in for an interview. Sir, who have you told about the Big Take?”

“Only Arlan Burger, to help me think it all through. He’ll keep it to himself.”

Savich said, “So you didn’t tell Beck or Tucker?”

Manvers shook his head.

Sherlock said, “I understand Beck still lives here with you?”

Manvers visibly tightened, then relaxed. Sherlock wondered if he had to protect his younger son often. Manvers said, his voice matter-of-fact with a touch of humor, “Yes, for the short term. I hear he has a girlfriend, so my fingers are crossed.”

Savich said easily, “Tell me, sir, has anything unusual happened in your congressional office the past month? Anything to concern you? Unsolicited emails or threatening letters, perhaps?”

Manvers fanned his hands. “Unusual? No, nothing unusual. Every politician gets their share of nut-cake threats. There are always unhappy people out there who want to blame somebody in government. Staff hands them over to Justice if they’re at all concerned. Why? Are you thinking this isn’t about Rebekah’s grandfather? That it’s something else entirely?”

“We’re trying to cover all the bases,” Savich said. “After what happened to Mrs. Manvers, we will double down and examine any questionable emails or letters you’ve received in the past month or so.”

“You mean you think they might have gone after Rebekah when they were really after me?” He shook his head. “That would mean this whole thing is some sort of convoluted conspiracy against us. But for what hoped-for outcome?” Manvers pulled his wife closer. “Where is the FBI agent who’s supposed to be guarding her from these people?”

Savich said, “Agent Hammersmith will continue to be here with Mrs. Manvers whenever you are unable to be.”

Back came a charming grin. “Kit tells me I should demand another agent.”

“Goodness, why?” Rebekah asked her husband. “Griffin is very nice and you know he’s—what’s the matter? What are all these grins about?”

Kit laughed. “Rebekah, I told Rich that Agent Hammersmith’s a danger to womankind, and he’d best be careful.” She gave Rebekah another poke on the arm. “Earth to Rebekah.”

Rebekah shook her head. “Sorry, I’m on the slow side today. Actually, I was thinking about Beck, wondering what he’ll say about Agent Hammersmith.”

Manvers said easily, “Beck hasn’t been around in the past couple of days, and though I can say with certainty Beck will hate his guts the minute he lays eyes on him, he isn’t stupid. No way would Beck take on an FBI agent. But maybe Agent Hammersmith being here will motivate Beck to move out sooner.”

Sherlock laughed. “Or perhaps, you, Congressman Manvers, could give Beck thirty days’ notice.”

Manvers nodded slowly, a smile on his mouth. He saw, too, the humor had put color in Rebekah’s cheeks, at least for a little while.





16


ST. LUMIS

SUNDAY MORNING

Mrs. Trumbo’s dining room held half a dozen tables, each one covered with a red-and-white checked tablecloth topped with a single chrysanthemum in a skinny red vase between the salt and pepper. Everyone was talking about the party at Leveler’s Inn, comparing notes and hangovers. A woman said, “It was my flask of Grey Goose that rocketed the punch over the top.”

An elderly gentleman at the next table said, “So that’s why I wanted to fly south at three a.m.”

Mrs. Trumbo raised her voice over the groans and said to Pippa, “Full house and not enough tables, so sit here, dear.” She pulled out a chair for her next to a coffee table. It was fine with Pippa. She wanted to be by herself to think, to refine the plans she’d made on her drive from Washington yesterday.

Mrs. Trumbo appeared at her elbow. “Coffee? It’s strong enough to put extra pep in your step.”

The coffee, even with Pippa’s liberal dose of milk and two Splendas, was more than strong enough. As she sipped the high-octane coffee and waited for her breakfast, Pippa made her plans for this Sunday morning. She knew not all stores would be open this time of year, but she’d visit the open ones and cozy up to the owners, friendly as could be, and see what she could learn. Maybe she’d tell them she’d once lived here, get them to tell her if anything hinky happened here lately. She’d been told by a judge she’d interned for that she really knew how to listen and draw people out. Time to put what Judge Vena said to the test. It would be easier with people who recognized her. She’d play the family card, see if she could open them up. Of course, Chief Wilde would probably be her most valuable source, but she wouldn’t bring him in yet, didn’t know him well enough to know how he’d react or what he’d do. She wanted to be very sure about him first. This was her show until she nailed something down or needed his help.