Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(79)
A boot heel smashed down on his wrist, and he screamed again as he felt the bones crack.
It wasn’t Savich’s boot; it was Teddy Janko’s. His hands were still tied, but he’d managed to stumble to Duvall and kick down. Then Janko kicked Duvall’s Colt across the room, managing to keep his balance. He stood over Duvall, panting.
“Good going, Officer Janko,” Savich said.
Jenny Connors leaped up, her intentions as clear as water to Savich. She raised her foot, then slowly lowered it, blinked, and stepped back. “Sorry, I nearly lost it. I’d still like to put his lights out.”
Dr. Hodges said, a good deal of satisfaction in his voice, “Better not to smash him more, Jenny. I don’t want you killing the idiot.” He grinned big at Savich. “Whoever you are, that was one amazing rescue.”
“I’m Special Agent Dillon Savich, FBI. I must say it’s a relief to see all of you in one piece.”
Jenny turned to Savich. “Thank heavens you understood what I was saying about the Sheetrock. I wouldn’t care if you were the coffee maker repairman. Thank you. Now, Dr. Hodges, let’s get you and Officer Janko untied. I can put this bozo’s lights out later.”
Savich called Sherlock. “All clear. The hostages are fine. Get an ambulance here fast for Duvall. I had to shoot him in the shoulder to bring him down, and Officer Janko broke his wrist.”
They heard shouts and cheering from outside. Savich turned to Jenny Connors. “Yes, I understood what you meant. Along with the building plans, your information made all the difference.” He paused, then said, “Dr. Hodges, I think Jenny deserves a raise. Officer Janko, I’ll tell Chief Collette what you did here, maybe it’ll mitigate the butt-kicking he’s planning.”
Teddy Janko took a deep breath. “Thanks, I’ll probably need any good words you can say. But you know, I can tell him if I hadn’t seen Duvall, if I hadn’t come in, things might have turned out differently.” He gave Savich a huge smile and looked hopeful.
“Good luck with that,” Savich said.
51
ST. LUMIS
POLICE STATION
TUESDAY NIGHT
When Pippa stepped into the warmth of the St. Lumis police station, she saw Deputy Davie Hauck bundled in a heavy coat, handmade fingerless mittens on his hands, hunched over, talking on his cell. Davie looked up, punched off his cell, and waved. “Hello, Chief, Agent ma’am. I got a call from Mrs. Gilly about a varmint, probably a possum, raising a ruckus in her she-shed. She locked it in.” Davie lumbered to his feet. “I guess I gotta go see what’s what.” He walked toward the door, still hunched over in his coat.
Wilde said, humor in his voice, “Looking at Davie, you’d think the station was the North Pole.” He pointed to another older man, his brown uniform starched cardboard stiff, expertly twirling a pencil between his fingers. “Clem? This is Special Agent Cinelli, FBI. Clem’s my dispatcher. He’s very proud of his full name, right, Clem?”
Clem beamed at her. He was older, slight, with about ten pounds of thick white hair on his head. “That’s right. My mom calls it alliteration. I’m Clement Collin Clark, ma’am—C cubed.” He grinned, showing very white buck teeth. “So, Chief, it’s all over town this lovely lady is your new girlfriend. Davie said she was a looker, and she was in some kind of trouble. But I don’t see why she can’t take care of herself, seeing she’s a federale.” Clem paused and eyed Pippa. “You sure don’t look like an FBI agent.”
Pippa arched a brow at him. “I don’t? Oh my, that’s not good. I guess I’ll have to try harder. Any suggestions, Clem?”
“Don’t mean anything by it, Agent Cinelli. You can’t help it if you’re pretty. I’m happy to help if I can, otherwise I’d have to be dealing with the little ghostbusters who threw tennis balls at the Harmons’ house Halloween night when they weren’t home to give out candy. Broke a window and the neighbors reported it. Chief, please give me something I can do for you instead.”
“As a matter of fact, Clem, we do need your help. I’d like you to take a walk around town, talk to people, see if you hear about anyone new in town. Agent Cinelli and I will be in my office.”
Wilde’s office was long and narrow with windows across the back looking out at a scraggly tree and two bushes Pippa didn’t recognize, a parking lot off to the left. A nice oak credenza sat behind an ancient military-looking desk, probably from World War II. There were wire baskets, a pile of papers, and a brand-new computer on top of the desk, nothing else. Two chairs sat in front of the desk. Wilde motioned her to a chair, sat down, and booted up his Mac.
While he waited, Wilde said, “By the way, I know Grizzlie. If he was guilty of dropping a gum wrapper on the sidewalk, he’d come to me and confess. Grizzlie didn’t look at your tablet.”
“I can see Mrs. Trumbo snooping,” Pippa said. “Not a big deal, simple curiosity about her guests, maybe telling herself she was protecting the others. But then who did she tell? Did she consider an FBI agent staying at her B&B only an interesting bit of gossip? Or did she have another reason for searching my room? Do you think someone paid her to keep an eye out for a stranger who could be FBI?” Pippa shook her head. “But who would pay her?”