TailSpin - Catherine Coulter [98]
Everyone thought about that for a moment.
Rachael said, “Tomorrow morning, Jack and I are going to see Jimmy’s lawyer, Brady Cullifer. If there are skeletons, he may be able to tell us about them.”
Savich sat back on the sofa, laced his fingers over his belly. “I spoke to the ME about Perky’s unexpected death. Turns out it wasn’t foul play. She died of a pulmonary embolism—a blood clot to her lungs. It’s a major surgical risk, the ME said. So there you have it.
“I then paid a visit to our two wounded bad guys from Parlow and Slipper Hollow—Roderick Lloyd and Donley Everett. Lloyd still refuses to speak to us, and as for Everett, he’s already signed a full confession. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know who hired Perky. I don’t think he’s lying.” Savich sat forward. “There’s no reason for Lloyd to know that Perky is dead. Maybe we can convince him she rolled. What do you think, Sherlock?”
“I can’t imagine Lloyd’s lawyer not knowing she’s dead, but it’s worth a shot.” She didn’t sound optimistic.
“What about the fourth guy?” Jack asked. “What’s his name?”
“Marion Croop,” Sherlock said. “We just got word from the field office in Miami that when they found him, he started a firefight. Unfortunately, he’s dead.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Washington, D.C.
Friday morning
Rachael ladled hot, thick oatmeal into Jack’s bowl.
He stared down at it, then up at her.
“What? Come on, dig in while the steam is still pouring off it. It’s good for you, and I make the best oatmeal in Kentucky. Here’s some brown sugar.” She spooned some over the oatmeal.
He gave her a pitiful look. “Could I have some Cheerios instead?”
Rachael punched him in the shoulder. “What is this? Here I decide to cook you my very best breakfast since you’re here as my bodyguard, and reward you because there weren’t any break-ins last night, and you want Cheerios? Out of a box?”
“With nonfat milk?”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Maybe some sliced banana?”
She laughed, went to the pantry, and disappeared inside. She came out again a moment later. “Sorry, Jack, no Cheerios. It’s either oatmeal or you’re out of luck.”
He took a bite of oatmeal and chewed slowly, then swallowed.
“Well? What do you think?”
“The truth?”
“Of course. Come on, Jack, I can take it.”
“It’s gotta be the best oatmeal in Kentucky.”
“Yeah, yeah, but we’re not in Kentucky, you jerk.” She threw a napkin at him and dug into her own oatmeal. “All right, all right, I’ll get you some Cheerios.”
They ate in companionable silence. It was an odd feeling, Rachael thought, as she watched the morning sunlight pour through the window over the kitchen sink, having someone at the breakfast table with her. After Jimmy died, and the days were empty and passed slowly until she flew to Sicily, she’d begun to doubt she’d ever begin her morning with a smile again. And then someone drugged her and threw her into Black Rock Lake.
“Thank you, Jack.”
He licked his spoon and held out his empty bowl. “For what?”
“You’re here. I’m not alone. Did you sleep well?”
He’d slept in one of the antique-filled bedrooms three doors down from Rachael. Her father’s bedroom remained untouched at the other end of the long corridor. The bed, in truth, had been hard as a rock and he’d had to stretch for five minutes that morning to get the kinks out.
“It was great,” he said.
“I’m glad. You must be real macho. I slept in that bed once and I thought my back was going to break, the mattress was so hard. I’m so glad no one tried to get in and kill me.” She refilled his bowl, not saying a word. “Truth is, I didn’t sleep all that well because every single sound was a bad guy coming to get me, even though I knew you were close, knew I was safe.”
“Understandable.”
“I kept my gun right beside