The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [447]
Before they left, Savich made an appointment to see Eliza Vickers on Monday afternoon at the Supreme Court Building.
“I wonder,” Savich said as he turned the ignition key, “if she expected to marry him.”
“I sure hope she’s too smart to have fallen into that trap.”
“Next time we see her, let’s be sure to ask. I want to hear what she has to say.”
CHAPTER
15
GEORGETOWN
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SUNDAY AFTERNOON/EVENING
LILYSAVICH SERVED homemade vegetable soup and polenta, an unlikely combination except that Sean adored it, and a warm baguette with strawberry preserves, which Sean also liked. Sean floated his polenta in the soup and hummed while he spooned most of it down his throat.
Sherlock said as she tucked Sean’s napkin more firmly around his neck and wiped bits of polenta off his chin, “When’s Simon coming, Lily?”
“Simon got hung up, and won’t be here until this evening. Some big art acquisition for the Met. He’s pretty impressed with himself. You guys got home sooner than expected.”
“Yeah, well,” Sherlock said as she spooned in a bit of soup, “Justice Alto-Thorpe blasted us out of the water for allowing murder to happen in the Supreme Court, wouldn’t even let us in her house.”
“She lambasted us all right,” Savich said. “It was quite an experience.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine anyone lambasting either of you,” Lily added, her voice wistful. “I wish I could have seen that. Okay, despite her, how’s the case going?”
“We’ve got some interesting twists going.” Savich’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the taste of the soup. “You made the soup, Lily? It’s wonderful.”
And Lily said without missing a beat, “Sure, Sean and I sliced the veggies.” She winked at Sherlock and mouthed “Balducci’s,” naming a high-end deli over on M Street. She continued, “After Justice Alto-Thorpe, you guys sure don’t want to turn on the TV, it’ll give you heartburn. Goodness, I had no idea there were so many experts on exactly what the FBI should be doing and isn’t doing, on what the President should be doing and isn’t doing. It shows no sign of stopping.”
“The price of doing business in this town,” Savich said. “Now, don’t bother me, Lily. I’ve got a spiritual experience going with this soup. Sean? You liking it too?”
His boy sucked down a spoonful, most of it making its way down his throat, but some of the vegetables and broth dripping off his chin. He gave his father a huge grin and picked up a chunk of polenta out of his soup and squeezed it through his fingers.
“I was just waiting for him to do that,” Lily said, watching him flatten his palm against his open mouth. “I think he likes the way it feels squishing between his fingers.”
“Whatever works,” Savich said. “Thanks so much for coming over, Lily. Graciella needed some time off, her mom’s been ill.”
“Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” Savich heard the hitch in her voice. She’d lost her own little girl over a year before, but now there was a nephew in her life, and he knew it mattered. He wondered if being with Sean was keeping her in Washington rather than marrying Simon Russo and moving to New York. On the other hand, The Washington Post had picked up No Wrinkles Remus, her political cartoon series, and she was laughing more, looking better, happier.
“Yes, Lily, we really appreciate you feeding us and taking care of the little wild one here—” Sherlock was interrupted by her cell. “Excuse me,” she said and turned away. “Sherlock.”
“It’s Jimmy Maitland, Sherlock. You guys are needed, now. There’s been another murder.”
“Who?”
“Daniel O’Malley, one of Justice Califano’s law clerks.”
“Oh no,” Sherlock said. “Where did it happen?”
“His girlfriend found him in his apartment. Get over here as fast as you can. You got the address?”
“Oh yes.