Savich was remembering how he’d seen Victor walking up the path toward Gatewood, how he’d looked up at Savich standing in the second-floor master bedroom window and pumped his fist. Had Lissy not been with him when he’d rowed Octavia out in the boat and killed her? Evidently not. And that was interesting. They could be apart as well as together. Had Victor imagined he was seeing Lissy in that window?
Savich said, “Let me take the bomb at the church yesterday. Before Sherlock and I brought down Victor, he tried to bomb us, so I’m sure he did the work. He had the expertise. But I bet Lissy loved the idea of blowing up the church at Octavia’s funeral. Lissy loved drama, loved making a statement. What could be more dramatic than destroying a church full of people? Killing as many as she could? She had to be dancing, waving her fist.”
Sherlock picked it up. “Remember Norm, from Norm’s Fish and Bait in Bowman, near Greenbrier State Park, where Victor went in to buy junk food Sunday morning? Victor saw his face on TV. He didn’t kill Norm, he panicked and ran. Lissy would never run. She’d yell, ‘Lights out!’ and kill everyone in sight. So it was Victor at the Fish and Bait in Bowman.”
Ty said, “Okay, then it had to be Lissy who tried to shoot you guys in Peterborough after she saw you talking to people at that fried lobster place where Victor had lunch. It was spur-of-the-moment, over-the-top. I mean, it’s broad daylight, and there you are, the enemies. She went hard at you to get you, kill you dead.”
“Yes,” Sherlock said, “that’s classic Lissy. Thank heavens it wasn’t Lissy who came into the children’s tent at the book festival. It was Victor, and I’ll admit what he did had to be spur-of-the-moment and really out of character for him. I mean, his weapon was a big chocolate bar.”
Savich said, “Winslow happens to lie in a direct route to Fort Pessel, where Lissy and her mother lived and where Victor lived with them. It’s where we believe Jennifer Smiley hid her half-million-dollar share from the bank robberies. We know Victor has a big wad of cash, so it makes sense he knew where the money was hidden, and he retrieved it.” He ate the last bite of pie, regretfully set his empty plate on the coffee table. “If this is true, can you guys think of any reason why Victor would go back to Fort Pessel again?”
“Not unless he didn’t take all of it,” Sala said, and scraped up the last tiny bit of apple pie from his plate and looked like he wanted to cry.
Sherlock took his hand. “Come with me, Grasshopper. I think I have one slice of pie left, and it’s got your name on it.”
“Suck-up,” Ty called after him. He waggled his fingers without looking back.
Savich sighed. “And here I was thinking about having that last slice for myself in bed tonight.”
When Sherlock and Sala returned, Sala hugging a plate to his chest with one small slice of apple pie on it, Savich had to laugh. It looked like he was holding a life jacket. “We told you how Victor gave Cindy a hundred-dollar bill to pay for his dinner at the diner. Let’s say we can trace the hundred-dollar bill to one of the bank robberies. That would leave us with the same question—why go back to the Smiley house if you already retrieved the money? No one’s lived there for over two years. The bank foreclosed and has been trying to sell it. It’s probably not habitable by now.”
Ty said, “Sentiment? No place else to go? Someplace you—and Lissy—know and feel safe? Or maybe he didn’t take all the money, and he’s going back to make another withdrawal, like Sala suggested. His own personal bank.” She waved her hand, frowned. “On the other hand, the bank could sell the place at any time, and then it wouldn’t be safe to go back. And Victor would know that.” She looked beyond Savich’s shoulder.
“What, Ty?”
“Oh, well, this is probably stupid—”
“Spit it out, Christie,” Sala said, “or I won’t give you my last bite.” There was a sliver of pie on his fork, and he waved it in her face.
“All right, but don’t call me crazy. What if Victor never knew where Jennifer Smiley hid the money, maybe Lissy never told him, or she herself didn’t know where her mother hid the stash. So maybe he got his wad of cash someplace else or from somebody else.”
Savich said, “No, that’s not crazy at all. Actually, we checked all convenience store robberies around the time Victor escaped, but none in the area fit the bill.”
Sherlock said slowly, “Let’s say he didn’t rob anyone. It would be a huge risk for him. He escaped, he’s on everyone’s radar. What you said, Ty—what if someone gave him the money?”
“But why on earth would anyone give Victor money?” She smacked the side of her head.
“No, wait,” Savich said. “Victor didn’t have any friends, any benefactors, rich or otherwise. Maybe someone paid him money to do something for him.”
Everyone stared at him.
“You mean like commit a crime for him?”
They all considered that possibility.
Savich said, “It’s possible. Victor’s crimes garnered lots of publicity, and maybe someone paid attention. Regardless, I already have agents at the Smiley house in Fort Pessel in case Victor shows up.”
“Here’s for your twisted brain.” Sala handed Ty his fork with the final sliver of apple pie balanced on it.
Savich soon realized they were tapped out on Victor, and no wonder. Everyone was exhausted. He looked at his Mickey Mouse watch. “We’ve got some good ideas going, but you guys have an hour drive ahead of you. Let’s call it quits for tonight. I’m looking forward to bringing Dr. Hicks to the hospital tomorrow to hypnotize Leigh. If anyone can help her remember if she saw anything in the alley before she was struck down, it’s Dr. Hicks.”
“You’ll like Dr. Hicks,” Sherlock said. “He’s an Elvis impersonator. He stuffs a pillow in his pants because he’s skinny. He goes to all the events dressed like the King. He sounds like him, too.”
Savich said, “Let’s add that he’s the very best hypnotist we’ve ever worked with. If he really likes you, it’s possible you might get him to sing ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’?”
“I wish I’d thought of hypnosis,” Sala said. “I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks, Savich.”
“Right now, I’d rather have more apple pie.”
61
* * *
WILLICOTT, MARYLAND
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
It hit her so hard, Ty took a turn too fast and skidded on the rain-slicked road. She couldn’t see clearly enough through the rain-fogged windows or the windshield to find a familiar landmark, so she prayed as she slowly, carefully managed to straighten her truck out of the skid. She stopped the truck in the middle of the empty road, briefly rested her forehead against her clenched hands on the steering wheel.
“Ty, are you all right? What happened?”
“My heart’s pounding out of my chest. Sorry about that. Sala, a thought just hit me, made me jerk the steering wheel. Listen, Haggersville is a lot like Willicott, and a lot of people heard us talking about Leigh Saks and her hypnosis tomorrow. Everyone who heard us tells someone else, and on and on it goes. The person who struck her down, maybe they’ll try again before she can be hypnotized. And there’s only one deputy guarding her.”
Sala punched a number on his cell. “Chief Masters? Ty and I are concerned there’s only one guard on Leigh.” Ty listened to him explain their concern, then, “Thank you, Chief. Good night. We’ll see you tomorrow at the hospital.”
“Neither of you questioned my judgment at all,” Ty said.