Whiplash

Dane said as he shook Deputy Phelps's hand, "Glad you called us right away. Hey, here's my card, you think of anything more, give me a call, doesn't matter what time it is."

Savich and Dane watched Deputy Glen Phelps take Dane's card and ease it with great care into his wallet, right behind his American Express card.

"I've got a business card, too," Phelps said, and blushed as he handed it to Dane. "I just got them, a gift from my mom. She said you just never know when you'll need one. I guess she thought it'd impress people, show what a professional I am." He beamed at them, still blushing as the coroner's van left. "Nasty business. I sure hope you figure all this out."

Savich said, "We will. Thanks again, Deputy Phelps. We've got some folks coming to take the car away. We'll check it over."

"Agent Savich, would you like one of my cards too?"

53

MILLSTONE, CONNECTICUT

Jane A

The building was five stories, only six apartments on each floor. Mick Haggarty was in 2D, an end apartment. Sherlock whistled as she walked down the corridor with its thick dark red ru

She paused a moment outside 2D to listen. She heard voices, a man and a woman, but couldn't make out what they were saying. A pity. She knocked. The door was opened almost immediately by Mick Haggarty. He was maybe twenty-four, twenty-five at most, good-looking, no doubt about that, with a nice thin nose, tough square chin, and high cheekbones. He had dark hair, a deep tan, and startling blue eyes, darker than hers. Black Irish, Sherlock thought. He was wearing te

He stared down at her a moment, then, "Who are you? What can I do for you?"

She smiled up at him. He was tall, nearly as tall as Dillon. She handed him her creds. "As you see, I'm Agent Lacey Sherlock, FBI. I'd like to speak with you and Jane A

She watched him hesitate. She reached out her hand and patted his arm as she pulled her ID from his fingers. "No, don't lie, I saw Jane A

Jane A

"I'm strung out," Jane A

"You had your gun, Jane A

Jane A

Sherlock lightly laid her hand on Jane A

Tears sheened her eyes. "It's difficult. I was so scared. Here I am going on about how I felt, and they murdered Caskie. How must he have felt when they gu

"We don't know yet who's responsible. Do you believe they were from Schiffer Hartwin? You think they sent killers to murder Caskie?"

"I was thinking they'd make Caskie the scapegoat. All they had to do was have him killed, and then he couldn't defend himself."

"Yes, that's true. And you're exactly right about one thing, they're doing just that-blaming your husband for all of it, from the pla

Jane A

"I bet he was going to run off," Mick Haggarty said from his post at the front door. "I bet he was going to leave you and your kids high and dry, Jane A

"Very probably," Sherlock said, not taking her eyes off Jane A

"I still can't accept that my own husband was a criminal. But one thing I do know for sure, he wasn't a murderer, he wasn't, Sherlock."

"Maybe not."

"All right. Let me think about this. As far as I know Caskie didn't have any personal enemies-wait, unless you count Carla Alvarez, maybe. She's very passionate, about causes, politics, business. Caskie would say she'd fly off the handle and people would scatter. Maybe she figured out he was going to dump her and she sent some men over to kill him."

"Did you speak to Caskie about her, after you spoke to me and Erin Pulaski? Did he tell you he was breaking it off with Carla?"

"No, no, it's just his pattern. Like I told you, Caskie was a cheat, but he was a very predictable cheat. He always followed the same pattern-intense flirtation, romantic little hideaway di

"If not Carla, then how about the manager of accounting, Turley Drexel, I think his name is?"

Jane A