Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [191]
Savich blew out a big breath, picked up a tortilla chip, and absently chewed on it. “I suppose it’s occurred to you it may not have been a mugger.”
“He talked like one, maybe, I’m not sure since I’ve never been mugged before. Then he ruined it by pulling this switchblade knife. One thing I’m absolutely sure of—there was death in his eyes. And you know what? I knew all the way to my stomach lining it was the end of the line. But then I went after him, Dillon, wrecked him good—all the moves you taught me. I could hear your voice telling me things, ‘Make yourself as small as possible,’ stuff like that. I hammered him—my hand a tight fist and whap! Then I hammered him hard against his chest, then polished him off by slamming my palm against his ear. Unfortunately, he got himself together and jumped off the bus, got away. Hey, I smashed him, Dillon, really smashed him.”
She looked so proud of herself that Dillon wanted to hug her until she squeaked, but he was too scared. She could have been killed so very easily.
He cleared his throat. “Did you call the police?”
Lily shook her head. “To be honest, all I wanted to do was get back to the B-and-B. Then I thought of the paintings and got to the museum as fast as I could. Why don’t you think it was a mugger?”
Savich was still shaking with reaction. “I’m upset about this, Lily, really upset. He most certainly wasn’t a mugger. Listen, an empty bus, a guy starts with a throwaway line about taking your wallet to keep things real calm, then he brings out the knife? A mugger? No, Lily, I don’t think so.”
“The question is,” Sherlock said, chewing on a chip that she’d liberally dipped in salsa, her right hand near her glass of iced tea, “who found him, got him up to speed and moving so fast? You only told Tennyson last night that you were leaving him. Talk about fast action—that really surprises me. Tennyson, his father, whoever else is involved in this—they’re not pros, yet they got this guy after you very quickly. He must have been watching the B-and-B, then followed you to the art supply shop, got ahead of you and on the bus at the next stop. It was well planned, well executed, except he failed.”
“Yeah, they didn’t know what Dillon had taught me.” She actually rubbed her hands together, realized she’d gotten salsa all over herself, and laughed. “Can we have another basket of chips?” she called out to the young Mexican waitress, then, “I saved myself, Dillon, and it felt really good.”
Savich understood then, of course. Her life had been out of control for so very long, but no longer. He patted her back. “I wonder if it would help to check hospitals. Did you hurt him that bad?”
“Maybe. Good idea, I didn’t think of that.”
“He’s paid to think of things like that,” Sherlock said and got out her cell phone. She looked up at them after a moment, “We’ve got a lot of possibilities here.”
Savich said, “You know, I was going to call the cops. But now that I think about it, I don’t think the local constabulary is what we need just yet. What I want is Clark Hoyt from the FBI field office right here in Eureka. If he knows the local cops, thinks they could help with this, then we can bring them into it. But for the time being, let’s use our own guys.”
Sherlock said, as she called information, “Great idea, Dillon. I’m sure glad they opened up this field office last year. The one in Portland wouldn’t be able to help us with much. Clark can get all the hospitals checked in no time. Now, Lily, tell me where you hit this guy. Be as specific as you can.”
“Yeah, I can do that, and then hand me a napkin so I can draw the guy for you.”
TEN
Eureka, California
The Mermaid’s Tail
Savich flipped open his cell phone, which was softly beeping the theme song from The Lion King, listened, and said, “Simon Russo? Is this the knuckle-head who shot himself in the foot