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He swiftly knotted off the thread. “I pride myself on not being too trite. There, all done. Now, let’s pour some stuff on this, sorry, but it’ll really sting, then give you three more shots in the butt—tetanus, an antibiotic, and another pain med. Then you’ll be out of here. Do go see your doctor down in Washington in a couple of days. The stitches will resorb. You can just forget about them. A great detective like you, I don’t suppose you want anything for the pain?”

“I still have the strength to give you a good kick, Doctor. If you don’t give me a shot, I’ll do it.”

“I thought for sure that local would be strong enough for a big FBI agent, particularly one with such a flamboyant name.”

“I’m a new agent. It’ll take a while to get to full pain-absorbing capacity, like that guy over there who could have his head kicked in and still sing and crack jokes.”

Savich laughed. “Yeah, go ahead and give her a shot of something to knock her out. Otherwise she’s so hyped up she won’t shut up until I gag her.”

Dr. Ashad, thin, dark-skinned, yellowish teeth from too much smoking, said as he prepared three needles, “Are you really a new agent, or is that a joke? Come on, you guys have worked together for a long time, haven’t you?”

“No, I never saw her before in my life until a month ago. Now I’m going to kill her as soon as she’s fit again, so our total acquaintance will have been very short in cosmic terms.”

“You’re funny, Agent Savich.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Drop your pants, Agent Sherlock.”

“In the arm, please, Dr. Ashad.”

“No can do. In the butt, Agent.”

“Not until he leaves the room.”

Savich stood right outside the door. He smiled grimly when he heard her yell. Then she yelled again. Two shots. Another yell. There, that was all of them. That should fix her up. She’d nearly died. He should have known that she’d lose it and do just what she’d probably planned to do for the last seven years. He looked up to see Ralph Budnack and Captain Dougherty walking toward him.

“How is she?”

“Just fine. Back to being mean again.”

“That woman likes to dance right up to the edge,” Captain Dougherty said. “You need to talk to her about that, Savich.” Then he smiled. “Got him,” he said, and rubbed his hands together. He didn’t look at all old or worn out tonight. Indeed, there was a bounce to his step. As for Ralph, he couldn’t hold still, just jumped from one foot to the other, his hands talking faster than his mouth moved.

There was another yelp.

“Four shots,” Savich said. “In the butt. She deserves all the jabs the doctor gives her. I wonder what that last one was for? Maybe part of her punishment.”

A few minutes later, Lacey came out of the small cubicle tucking in her blouse with one hand since her other arm was in a dark blue sling. “He’s a sadist,” she said to Savich before she saw the two cops. “He’s not trite, but he is a sadist. I think I might invite him to dinner just so I can poison his food.”

“You look pretty fit, Agent Sherlock,” Captain Dougherty told her, and patted her good shoulder with a beefy hand. “We thought maybe you guys wanted to come upstairs to see about Marlin Jones’s condition.”

“As of now I’m officially discharged and I wouldn’t miss it,” Lacey said, then looked up at Savich. “What about you, sir? Are you feeling better too? Not quite as violent as you were five minutes ago?”

He wanted to wrap his hands around her skinny neck and squeeze. But it would have to wait. “Allow me the courtesy of processing my violent thoughts without further comment from you, Sherlock. Trust me, it’s to your benefit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re not going to collapse or anything, are you, Agent Sherlock?”

“No, Ralph, I promise. I’m just fine.” She lasted until they got to the OR waiting room. No one could tell them anything. Jones was still in surgery. They settled in, Savich sitting next to Sherlock. She crashed two minutes later.

“I think she’s out,” Savich said. “Tell you what, I’ll take her back to the hotel.