Blow Out

CHAPTER

5

THE HENRY J. DALY BUILDING

METROPOLITAN POLICE HEADQUARTERS

JUDICIARY SQUARE

C APTAIN H ALLOWAY MET them inside the imposing granite entrance of the station house, surrounded by several of his men. He was very solicitous with Margaret Califano and Callie, and said in a low voice to Detective Raven, “Ben, I just got a call from Deputy Assistant Director Jimmy Maitland. Those two agents were brought back from the Pocono Mountains by helicopter. They’re on their way over here to speak to Mrs. Califano. And we’ve got a safe house to take them to for the next couple of days.”

They walked through the security checkpoint into the station. It was warm inside and thick with the smells of sweat, wet wool, coffee, and an occasional whiff of forbidden cigarette smoke. Ben said to Captain Halloway as he warmed his hands, “I guess since a Justice of the Supreme Court is high up in the federal food chain, we’ll have to get used to the Feds. I wonder if these FBI hotshots will be neck stompers.”

“Maitland said these two don’t waste their time on dickhead power plays.’

“Hello, Detective Raven. Good to see you again.”

Ben Raven was grinning even before he saw Dillon Savich, Sherlock at his side, come through the security checkpoint. “Well, I know them, sir. Would you believe this? As I live and breathe, it’s the wild man and his keeper. He’s a lot like you were, Captain, in the bad old days.”

“Hi, Ben,” Savich said, and shook his hand. “Captain Halloway, this is my keeper, Agent Sherlock.”

Ben became serious after he’d made introductions to everyone. “And last, this is Callie Markham, Justice Califano’s stepdaughter.”

Margaret Califano stared at Sherlock. “I’ve never seen such beautiful hair. How do you get all those curls?”

Savich laughed, relieved that the widow could be distracted, if only for a moment. “It takes her hours, ma’am. I beg her to come to bed, but she’ll call out that she’s got one more roller to go.”

Sherlock poked her husband’s arm, then took Margaret’s hand. “You’re very nice to notice, Mrs. Califano. We’re sorry about your loss, ma’am, Ms. Markham. We’re here to help in any way we can. And we will find the person responsible, you can take that to the bank. We know it’s a really bad time for you, and everyone at the Bureau thinks it’s best if you guys were protected for a couple of days. That means keeping you out of the media feeding frenzy that’s already started. In a couple of days, we’ll set up a press conference if you wish and you can say your piece.”

“Justice,” Callie said. “You’re promising my mother justice.”

“Yes, it’s not enough, but it’s all we can offer. Mr. Miles Kettering has loaned us his lovely house in Colfax, Virginia. You won’t be disturbed by the media. We will have agents there, available to you if the need arises. We’ll have agents screen your phone calls and forward important ones to Colfax.” Sherlock didn’t add that both she and Dillon had buckets full of questions, and this, along with their safety, was one of the main reasons everyone at the Bureau wanted Mrs. Califano isolated for a while. Having the daughter with Mrs. Califano was a bonus.

“Why, Agent Savich, would someone kill my husband?”

He heard the bewilderment in Mrs. Califano’s voice, saw it in her ravaged face. “We don’t know yet, but we’ll find out.”

Sherlock said, “I’ll send some agents to pack clothes for the both of you. Ms. Markham, it would be best if you remained with your mother. I imagine the media have found out about you and are camped out right now at your apartment.”

“All right.” Callie saw that her mother was staring at the two FBI agents—no, she was staring through them, obviously overwhelmed. Her eyes were vacant. Sherlock realized it at the same moment. She and Callie each took one of her arms, and half carried her over to a bench. “You sit down, Mrs. Califano. I don’t want you to worry about anything right now. Your daughter will stay with you.”

Margaret raised her head. “But he’s dead, my husband is dead. Gone. And there wasn’t any warning, nothing at all.”

“I know. Put your head down, ma’am, and breathe nice slow deep breaths. Just like that.” Sherlock nodded to Callie. “You try not to worry either. Take care of your mother. Once you’re moved into the Kettering house, we’ll come and talk.”

Margaret whispered something to her daughter.

Callie said, “My mother would really like a cup of tea.”

“No problem,” said Captain Halloway. “If your mother is up to it, we’ll go upstairs to my office. It’s nice and quiet and warm.”

He took Margaret Califano’s arm and led her to the elevator.

“I’ll be up in a moment, Mother.” Callie turned to Sherlock. “I’ve never seen her like this before in my life.”

Sherlock said, looking at Margaret Califano as the elevator doors slid shut, “It’s tough for a child to see a parent fall apart like that, I know. And how are you holding up, Ms. Markham?”

“Call me Callie. I’m not in shock yet, but my mom’s awfully close. Thank you, Agent Sherlock, for getting the house for my mother. But really, I don’t need to go to this house in Colfax. My mother has four very close women friends who will stick close to her if you let them, provide her all the support she’ll need. They’ll be a real comfort to her.

“I think it would be better that I stay here, keep busy, work with you to find out who killed my stepfather. Of course I’ll stay at a hotel, maybe under a different name, so the media won’t bother me.”

“No way, Ms. Markham,” Detective Raven said. He’d been speaking to Savich, and he spoke without even looking at her.

“My mother needs protection and comfort and support, I don’t. Actually, I think I’d like to have the media find me.”

Ben said, “Nobody but an idiot wants to deal with the media.”

Callie drew a deep breath, fanned her hands in front of her. “I thought you would have known. The thing is, I’m one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Detective Raven, that you know I was Justice Califano’s stepdaughter, but you haven’t bothered to check out what I do for a living. I’m an investigative reporter for The Washington Post. I’m one of the vultures.”

“Well, sh—” He wanted to curse big time, but didn’t.

“So some would say,” she agreed, “what almost came out of your mouth. Nice save.”

“So you caught a reporter jerk in bed with another reporter jerk and you’re the third reporter in this triad?”

“Hey, another good save. You didn’t call me a jerk.”

“The boot doesn’t fit just yet. Damn, what are we going to do with you? Why don’t we go sit down in one our primo interview rooms?”

Callie looked him up and down. “As long as it’s warm. My feet are wet. Yes, all right, let’s go talk. But I want some tea before you sweat me.”

Savich laughed. Officer Nancy Kreider said, “Personally, I’d kill for some coffee.”

“That would be okay, too,” Callie said, then felt a rush of misery. She cleared her throat, aware that they were all looking at her. “The thing is my stepfather believed coffee is the first cousin to evil tobacco and wouldn’t let it through the front door. I once brought a thermos of coffee to their house, had to swig it on the sly.”

Officer Kreider patted her arm. “I’ll send someone to get us coffee and bring it to the interview room.”

Sherlock pulled two teabags out of her purse. “Dillon wouldn’t exactly call coffee a first cousin to evil tobacco, but close enough. Could we have some hot water?”

Callie walked down a corridor of dirty linoleum, the color of lettuce, streaks of muddy water making puddles here and there where the linoleum had caved in, thinking that a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States of America had been strangled, and they were talking about coffee. There weren’t a whole lot of people around, cops or otherwise. She thought this was odd until she realized it was Saturday morning.

The small interview room was warm, if nothing else. There were half a dozen chairs and a single scarred table. The walls were painted the same lettuce color as the linoleum in the corridor. Callie thought if she were a criminal, she’d confess, just to get out of this room.

She shrugged out of her coat, sat down, and slipped her boots off so her socks could dry out.

No one said anything until the coffee and hot water for the tea arrived.

Callie looked from Detective Raven, who’d taken off his leather jacket, to the special agents. Officer Kreider sat against the wall, saying nothing. “I was on the debate team in high school. I had quite an edge because my stepfather taught me. My mother wasn’t married to him then, but they’d been seeing each other for at least six months as I remember. He was brilliant, I recognized that even as a self-absorbed teenager. I told him once when he demolished me in an argument that he could probably convince a fencepost to tango.” The instant the words were out of her mouth, Callie burst into tears. Sherlock handed her a Kleenex. She hiccuped, then managed to get herself under control.

Ben Raven rolled up his shirtsleeves as he said, “How long was it before your mother married Judge Califano?”

She took a slow sip of the strong black coffee until she was sure she wouldn’t lose it again. “She didn’t marry him until I went to Bryn Mawr. She took a long time deciding, I guess, for the simple reason that she was and is very rich. Even a Justice of the Supreme Court could have been interested in her money.”

“And the other reason?”

“You’re fast, Agent Sherlock. My aunt Marie, her sister, married a second time only to have her new husband sexually abuse her twelve-year-old daughter, my cousin, Moira. I’ve never asked her, but I think that was the other big reason why she waited.”

“So,” Ben said, “she waited until you were out of the house.”

“She was careful,” Callie said. “My mom’s always been very careful with me. So, no matter how much she believed in her second husband, I guess she wouldn’t take a chance.”

“Is she that careful about everything?”

“She’s brilliant herself, Agent Savich. She came from a rich family, it’s true, but she didn’t sit back and let servants pop peeled grapes into her mouth. She started her own business, and now she owns four high-end boutiques in the metropolitan area, all of them doing quite well indeed. I think she’s a little too driven, but that’s just the way she is. To answer your question, she’s careful about money. She has hers and, I suppose, my stepfather kept his own accounts. She earns the money, and she’s always protected it. That, and her reputation, it’s very important to her, and it’s not got anything to do with her family name. It’s because of her own pride in what she’s accomplished, in what she is. I liked to see the two of them debate something, anything.” A sob caught in her throat again, and she stared down at her feet. “Yeah, she’s careful about everything.”

Savich took a sip of tea before saying, “What did your stepfather think about her financial attitudes? The separate accounts and all that? Since he was an older man, wouldn’t he have expected joint accounts, expect perhaps to manage his wife’s money?”

Callie shrugged. “I wasn’t at home enough to form an opinion. When I visited, neither of them ever raised any contentious subjects. I remember only one real argument I walked in on and that was five years ago.”

“Do you remember what the argument was about?” Sherlock said.

“She was angry about something he’d done, something she’d found out about. I don’t know what it was, but my mom was nearly in orbit. Then they both saw me and clamped a lid on it. Again, this was five years ago, hardly relevant to anything.”

Detective Raven said, “Are you aware if your stepfather was ever involved with anyone other than your mother? Did he ever make a pass at you?”

She shook her head at him. “That’s such a strange question to ask about my stepfather. He simply wasn’t like that.”

Savich said, “So, from what you heard five years ago, do you think your mom was winning the argument?”

“This is quite a round robin you’ve got going here, and all of you fall into it so smoothly. My mother could argue with the devil, Agent Savich. If she and my stepfather ever got into it other than that one time, my nickel would be on her, mainly for persistence. She’s strong, my mother. This horrible murder has flattened her, but she’ll rebound, you’ll see.”

Sherlock asked, “Do you think she loved her husband?”

“Yes, I believe it. As I said, around me, they rarely argued, never questioned what the other chose to do. When they were alone? Sure, why not? I assume all married folk argue from time to time. Why all these questions? Do you think my mother killed him?”

Savich said, “Of course not. All these questions help us get a handle on how Justice Califano lived his life, how he dealt with the people close to him. The more we know, the faster we’ll find your stepfather’s killer. Do you know of any possible enemies Justice Califano had? Anyone he disliked?”

She thought a moment, cupping her hand around the still-warm coffee cup. “There were a number of politicians he didn’t care for, and there were some lawyers he believed were scum, but who doesn’t? Anyone close to him—sorry, but I can’t think of anyone right now.”

“How was your relationship with your stepfather recently?” Detective Raven asked.

“It was fine. The truth is I was well aware of who my stepfather was—impossible not to realize that your mother’s husband is a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. Everyone who knew was completely bowled over—there are a lot of sycophants out there—but truth be told, he was just my stepfather, nothing more, nothing less.”

“You said you admired his brilliance.”

“Detective Raven, he could have chewed you up for breakfast and still enjoyed his croissant.”

Officer Kreider laughed, then coughed into her hand. “Sorry, the coffee went down the wrong way.”

“I did some debating in college myself.” Was there a bit of a snit in Detective Raven’s voice?

Sherlock said, “Ms. Markham—”

“Please call me Callie since I have this feeling we’re going to get quite chummy.”

“That’s fine. Call me Sherlock. My husband is Dillon.”

“You two are married?”

“Nearly forever,” Savich said. “Ever since she shot me dead in Hogan’s Alley. That’s a dummy town down at Quantico that has the world’s highest crime rate. Agents-in-training catch bad guys there. She caught me and brought me down.”

“And my name is Ben,” said Detective Raven. He eyed Callie a moment, saw that she seemed to have it together, but that could change. “Now, Callie, when did you last see Justice Califano?”

“Last weekend, our usual Saturday-morning brunch.” Her voice caught and she fell silent. She swallowed. “I was coming over this morning for brunch. It was a surprise since they thought I was in New York.”

“What did he think of this Jonah character you were hanging out with?”

“The Jonah character happens to be on staff at The New York Times, Detective Raven. My stepfather once said he only had to read the first two lines of Jonah’s supposed hard news, and the bias smacked him in the face. But he also said if anyone wanted to have objective news, he’d have to go to Mars. There was no such thing here on earth. The truth was, he thought Jonah Blazer was an opportunist. I did hear him say that once when he didn’t know I was listening.”

Savich said, “And what did your stepfather think of your reporting, Callie?”

“As I said, my stepfather was a very smart man. When one of my investigative pieces impressed him, and it did happen twice, he told me. Otherwise, he stayed out of it. We made a deal after I started with The Washington Post—get that look off your face, Detective Raven, he didn’t help me get the job at the Post. I got it on my own merits.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “Okay, they probably hoped I’d dish up insider news to them on the Supreme Court, but I never did. I never would. It worked well.”

“I thought it was going to be ‘Ben.’ ”

“Not when you’re obnoxious. Just get that look off your face, he did not get me my job.”

Sherlock raised a hand. “All right, children, enough insults. Now, Callie, what did your mom think of this reporter in New York?”

“She despised him, although she tried hard not to show it.”

Ben said, “So your mom and your stepfather couldn’t stand this guy and yet you still had him on your A list?”

“I’m young. I’m stupid. I thought Jonah was a deep thinker.”

“You’re not that young,” Ben said.

“Thank you for the diplomatic correction.”

“Hey, it’s why I’ll never be the police commissioner. And about your reporter—after all this deep thinking, it turns out he was just horny like most of the guys on the planet.”

“That’s exactly right, Detective Raven.”

Sherlock said, “Why the strong emotion on their parts? Did they think you were going to marry the guy?”

Callie frowned down at the dregs in the bottom of her coffee cup, then leaned down to pull her boots back on. When she sat up again, she said, “You know, I really don’t know why she couldn’t stand him. I asked her once, but she slicked right out of answering. As for my stepfather, he never really said anything about Jonah other than that one comment I overheard.”

Savich said, “All right. If everyone is done for now, I think it’s a good idea for Captain Halloway to get you and your mom to Colfax.”

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you very much, Callie, for your assistance. If you think of anything that might help, call us immediately. I know this is very difficult for you, but I have a favor to ask. Please don’t report this to your newspaper or give anyone an exclusive. We really need to get a handle on all of this, and it would be helpful if you could hang back, help us keep the lid on things.”

“I would never do that.” Callie thought for a minute. “I’ll bet my editor, Jed Coombes, is jumping up and down with excitement. But I’ll deal with him. I’ll drop out of sight for a while. I just hope he won’t fire me.”

“Nah, he’ll keep thinking he can talk you around,” Ben said.

“At least until the funeral,” Sherlock said. “That’ll be toward the end of next week.”

Callie stared at her. “The funeral. I hadn’t thought about that. I need to take care of things. My mother’s friends can help me.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and headed for the door.

“Your coat, Callie,” Ben said. “You forgot your coat.”