him.”
Sherlock laughed and lifted her mug to toast Becca’s. “I want to
meet this guy. If he dares to light up a cigarette, Savich won’t
threaten to fire him, he’ll take his head off.”
“So Adam doesn’t work for Thomas?”
“No, not now. They’ve been friends for a very long time. Adam is
sort of like a son to Thomas. No, I won’t tell you any more about
him.”
Becca didn’t say anything.
“Listen, Becca, it doesn’t matter right now. Now, my husband is
concerned that the local cops won’t be able to do a thing about
Linda Cartwright because they’re going in completely blind. But
we agreed this is the way we’ll play it for a while. The cops have
been there for a while now, Becca. They’re taking care of her. But
they won’t be able to figure anything out because we’re holding
back. That really sticks in everyone’s craw, probably always will.”
“Sherlock, do you know who Krimakov is?”
Sherlock couldn’t help it, her eyes gave her away before she
could pull down the automatic blinders, and she wanted to kick
herself. She shrugged. “Yes, I know; But it would have to be his
ghost who killed Linda Cartwright. Evidently, Thomas got information
that he was killed in an auto accident just a short time ago
in Crete, where he supposedly lived. So it’s all academic. If he’s
dead, then he can’t have anything to do with this.”
“And Thomas has double-checked that this guy is really dead?”
“I would assume so.”
“If this Krimakov were alive, and he were behind this terror,
why would he be doing it to me in particular? He’s what–Russian?
What could he possibly have against me? Why would Thomas
think it was him?”
“I don’t know,” Sherlock said, lying cleanly now because she’d
had time to slip her mask into place.
“Who is Thomas, Sherlock? Please, you’ve got to tell me.”
“Just forget him, Becca,” she said over her shoulder. “Drop it.
Give it time. Now, I want some more coffee. Can I make you some
toast or something?”
“No, nothing.” Who was this Thomas person? Becca wondered. Why all the secrecy? It made no sense to her. She looked over at the
single telephone. It was nearly nine o’clock on Thursday morning.
Nothing from. him. Maybe he was scared now, maybe he knew
they were getting close, maybe he would go away. Still, she sat there
staring at that damned black phone like it was a snake about to bite
her.
The last person any of them wanted to see arrived midmorning.
“The door looks good,” Sheriff Gaffney said when Becca
opened it. “What with all this mess, I didn’t think you’d worry so
much about how your front door looked.”
Becca said, “You just never know, do you, Sheriff? Would you
like to come in? Is there any news about who the skeleton is?”
“Yeah, I’d like to talk to you a moment, Ms. Powell. I believe
now that the skeleton that fell out of your basement wall is Melissa
Katzen.” He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t think old Jacob was that
vicious. Bashing a young girl in the face–now that just isn’t right.”
“Sheriff,” Adam said, coming up behind Becca, “I was thinking
about that. You said she was supposed to elope. Any leads on her
boyfriend?”
“Nope, nobody remembers her ever dating. Isn’t that weird?
Why would she keep it secret? That doesn’t make any sense to me
or to my wife, Maude. She thinks that a young girl would be really
proud to show off a boyfriend.”
“Maybe the boyfriend didn’t want her to show him off,” Becca
said. “Maybe he told her to keep quiet.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. I wish I did.”
“Rachel Ryan remembers her, said she was really nice, nothing
new there. She also said that Melissa didn’t ever dress in sexy
clothes. She was surprised when I told her about the Calvin Klein jeans and that skimpy pink top. She couldn’t remember Melissa
ever wearing anything suggestive. Maybe you’re right, Ms. Powell.
Maybe it was her boyfriend. But you know? I can just see a cute
young girl waltzing over into Jacob Marley’s yard, him seeing her