Blowout

end of the beautifully carved table. “He took off his coat, pulled off his gloves, unwound his cashmere scarf, and neatly laid the lot on the back of this chair. He’s sitting in the next chair, at ease since he’s comfortable here. He’s alone, but protected. What are there—a dozen guards patrolling the building on a Friday night? And a sophisticated communication system connecting everything in the building.”
    “So he’s not at all worried about being alone,” Ben said.
    “Right. Okay. It seems strange to me that a Justice would spend his whole week here and then come in on a Friday night for the fun of it. So he’s obviously here for a reason. Maybe he’s got some papers to review, something he doesn’t want to commit to his computer or share with his wife, and we know he was a computer buff. What he wants is privacy. So what are these papers? He pulls them out of his coat since he didn’t bring his briefcase—”
    “Unless the killer took the briefcase,” Ben said.
    “The guards said he didn’t have one,” Savich said. “Said he pulled out a sheaf of papers along with other stuff to go through security. He didn’t have to do this, naturally, but it was one of his habits. So he’s sitting here reading, relaxed, and then he hears something.”
    “Yes,” Sherlock said. “He hears something, and it pulls him out of his reading. He looks up, maybe he calls out, then maybe he’s suddenly scared, wants to call for help. He gets out of the chair to use the wall phone.”
    Savich picked it up. “Since there was no warning, no fight, it was probably at that moment that his killer came up behind him and looped the garrote around his neck.”
    Sherlock said, “And it was a man. The M.E. says there’s no way a woman could have gotten the leverage to do the job. Remember, he had to loosen the loop at some point to get the shirt collar out of the way, and he had to be strong.”
    Savich said, “There were two cuts on the Justice’s neck, which means the killer started pulling it tight but Califano’s shirt was in the way. And so he loosened it, gave the Justice a chance to slip his fingers underneath it, and then he finished it off.”
    Sherlock said, “The pressure was so great, the wire so sharp, that it cut right through the bones of his fingers. The killer must have worn gloves. This was brutal, almost gleefully brutal.”
    Ben said, “Why do you say that?”
    Sherlock shook her head. “I don’t know, really, it just feels that way to me.”
    Ben said, “I wonder if Justice Califano knew who the man was. I wonder if the man said anything to him before he choked him to death, or did he come up behind him and do the job without a word.”
    Sherlock said, her head cocked to one side, “I think this guy talked to Justice Califano, taunted him after he had that wire around his neck, after he was sure he had control. We’ve got a good-sized ego here. This is a guy who’s full of himself, strong enough to take down a man like Califano, a good-sized, fit man for his age.
    “The guy took huge risks here, knocking out that guard, coming back into the building wearing the guard’s clothes, assuming he’d blend in so he could roam free in the building. Since it was late at night, there was a good chance he could slip up to the third-floor library unnoticed, unless one of the other guards spoke directly to him.”
    Ben stared at the two of them. “You know what, guys? There were far easier ways to do this if all he wanted was to kill Justice Califano. Why would he choose to kill him right here in the Supreme Court Building, ostensibly terrorist-proof, heavily guarded? Was he making a point? Is he just crazy? Sherlock said the murderer was gleefully brutal. This guy sounds like a professional, but he didn’t behave like one.”
    “If he is a professional,” Sherlock said, “there must be a huge paycheck at the end of it.”
    Savich said quietly. “And if he is a professional, he enjoys his work. Could be the money’s secondary.”
    “Again,” Sherlock said, “we get back to Ben’s point. Why take all those unnecessary risks to murder Justice Califano?”
    “If we find that out, we’ve got him,” Savich said.
    Ben looked from one to the other and back again, his eyes finally resting on Savich’s face. “Maybe it was some sort of test, some sort of a challenge.”
    “Maybe,” Savich said. “But it could also have been someone who hated Justice Califano’s guts to such an