“Listen to me, both of you, I didn’t kill her. It was that Nesser. You know he did it. I only visited him at the hospital because Octavia was concerned about him, asked me to check on him, see that he was doing okay, nothing more than that. It was a simple favor.”
Ty shook her head back and forth. “Mr. Culver, more lies won’t help you. I’m sure Octavia told you all about him, told you how unstable he was, how easily manipulated. When she got her inheritance, you realized what a mistake you’d made. You tried your best, but you didn’t think she believed you’d really change when you swore to her there’d be no more gambling, no more women on the side. Then you remembered Victor, remembered how he’d hated what she’d said about him in order to get him committed to a psychiatric hospital and not sentenced to life in prison. You offered Victor twenty thousand dollars in cash, offered to help him escape if he would murder Octavia for you and disappear.”
“Go away, both of you. I have nothing to say. I want to speak to my lawyer.”
“Oh, you will, Mr. Culver, you will. But first, Agent Porto will read you your rights.”
Sala wanted to beat this man with his bare hands, but instead he drew a deep breath and read Culver his rights. “A couple of agents will be arriving in a minute to take you to the Hoover Building. You will need a very good lawyer, but I don’t know how you’re going to pay him. All the money Octavia willed to you? You’re never going to see it.”
“No! You have no proof of anything! You’re jealous because you couldn’t get Octavia and her money for yourself!”
Ty saw Sala was about to leap on Culver. She laid her hand on his arm, felt his muscles tensed, felt the rage in him. She was more than grateful to see Agents Fulton and Droban walk through the office door.
Sala was shaking when they left Culver’s office to the sound of Culver cursing. Ty stopped him by the elevator. “Sala, I’m so sorry, so very sorry, but it’s over now.” She hugged him hard, whispered against his face, “You held it together. You didn’t beat him to death.”
He said against her hair, his voice catching, “He’s going down, Ty. The man who killed Octavia is going down.”
She said nothing, only held him close as he wept.
EPILOGUE
* * *
TY CHRISTIE'S COTTAGE
WILLICOTT, MARYLAND
SATURDAY NIGHT
Sala took a drink of Ty’s Turkish espresso, settled himself against the sofa cushions, and patted Lucky, his fifteen-pound black-as-midnight cat with beautiful green eyes and one tattered ear, who was licking her tail even as she arched her back into his hand. She seemed perfectly content to be in a new place, sitting like a queen in the middle of a sofa with a new human ready to worship her.
Ty said, “Time to change those butterfly strips on your head again, Sala, make sure you’re healing okay.”
“You changed them Wednesday.” Sala touched his fingertips to where Dr. Staunton had placed three stitches. Had it only been since last Saturday? He flashed on being bound in the closet and said immediately to distract himself, “Ty, thanks for the worry, but I’m fine. If you have a Band-Aid, I’ll put some disinfectant on the stitches and cover them.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “It is sort of cozy having you with me, Sala, but I’m in charge here. Get your fingers away, I’ll do it.”
When she’d smoothed down the Band-Aid, she stared at the faded bruises and welts still visible on his wrists, felt a punch of anger. “Do your wrists still hurt?”
He shrugged. “No, good to go.”
Ty laid her palm on his cheek. “Do you know what I think is the most amazing thing about this whole incredible week?”
He was still stroking Lucky’s back, but all his attention was on her. He cocked his head in question.
She looked him in the eye. “That you survived, Sala. You survived and you’re going to be fine. That makes me very happy.”
He smiled, and perhaps he stroked Lucky’s back a bit faster. Lucky gave him a look, stretched out to lick his hand, then broke out in a symphony of purring. The vagaries of fate. “I’ve always known intellectually that none of us can have a clue when our world is going to be turned upside down. When my wife died, I didn’t think I could handle it, but time passed, and the pain and grief slowly receded. And now this. Octavia murdered, my nearly dying. Ty, the truth is, I’m still a mess. There’s been so much. The nightmares won’t go away all that soon.”
“Then isn’t it great I’m a light sleeper?” She yawned. “Not quite time for sleep yet, though.” No, she thought, it was time to simply enjoy breathing in the soft clean air. The heavy rain of the previous night had dropped the temperature, and presented an incredible clear sky, a sickle moon, and a dazzling array of stars. The crickets gave their nightly performance.
EPILOGUE 2
* * *
SAVICH HOUSE
GEORGETOWN
SUNDAY NIGHT
Three Dizzy Dan’s pizza boxes were open on the coffee table in the Savich living room, smells of piping-hot cheese and Sherlock’s favorite, pepperoni, wafting through the air.
Sean was finally in his bed, hopefully asleep, after thirty minutes as the star of the show without a word about the week the adults had managed to survive.
Savich took a final bite of his vegetarian delight pizza and settled back. He’d taken Ty and Sala through all their questions about what had happened in Fort Pessel. He said now, “No one has a clue about where Jennifer Smiley hid the bank robbery money. With the fresh publicity about it, the bank will be dealing with treasure hunters swarming over the property again and digging holes everywhere, not to mention what they’ll do to the interior of the house. Publicly the bank is declining to get involved, but I’ll wager bank employees are out there digging with the rest of the treasure hunters.” He paused, took a drink of his Dos Equis.
He looked over at Sala, dressed in chinos, a black T-shirt, and sneakers, and thankfully, saw that he finally looked calm and settled. He wasn’t surprised Sala had more or less moved to Willicott with his cat and was living in Ty’s cottage. And who knew where that would lead?
Sherlock said, “So how’s Lucky doing?”
Sala said, “This morning Ty gave her slivers of baked chicken breast. After that offering, she settled under her hand for a good petting. That’s progress.”
Ty said, “Give me three days, and she’ll spend more time with me than with se?or here. By the way, we saw Leigh Saks, her mother, father, and her father’s wife today at Lulie’s bakery, her first day out of the hospital. Congressman Mellon’s wife was very pleasant. She was eating Lulie’s éclairs at a fine clip, along with the rest of us.”
“And Leigh?” Sherlock asked. “How is she doing?”
“She was smiling a lot,” Sala said. “Needless to say, everyone was eager to see her, to talk with her. Lulie told me Leigh’s thinking about politics and working for her dad in Washington. It was his idea. It would be a whole new life for her. She seemed excited about it.”
Ty said, “Leigh was amazing. I think she was amused everyone suddenly wanted to speak to her, well understood their interest, but she didn’t really show it. She was gracious and kind.”
“That’s great to hear.” Sherlock added, her hand hovering. “Okay, guys, there’s one last slice of pepperoni pizza.” But she didn’t wait, she snagged it up and took a big bite.
Savich leaned forward. “So you were in Haggersville today. How are Albie Pierson’s husband and brother-in-law dealing?”
Ty said, “Landry and Eric were in denial at first, but after reading the letters she wrote to them, they’ve had to accept it. They’re devastated. What’s amazing to me is she managed to lead a normal life for five years after she killed LaRoque.”
Sala shrugged. “And why not? It was the life she had before LaRoque became a threat to her again. And it was over. She avenged her family. It ended for her when she strapped her father’s belt to LaRoque’s body and threw him off the dock at Gatewood.”