Blowout

story. Stewart was prissy, he was rather rigid, and he could never tell a joke right, but he was a good man, and he had a brilliant legal mind. The thought that someone murdered him enrages me.”
    “Forget it, Ms. Markham,” Ben said. “Go home and have a cup of tea. Write your gossip columns.”
    “I don’t write gossip columns, you jerk.” She paused, pointed a teacher’s finger at him. “Let me put it this way, Detective, agents, either you let me help or I might go back to work, all the way back. I already have lots of good inside information, enough for the first page, don’t you agree?”
    “That’s blackmail,” Sherlock said, eyebrow arched, and gave Callie a look of respect. “That’s ugly.”
    “I know, Sherlock, but please listen to me. I’m not stupid, and I know these people, and I know how to keep my mouth shut. I’m only pushy when I’m in my reporter mode, and even that could be useful. I took time off from the Post , much to my editor’s annoyance. Please, let me help.”
    Ben said, “I could put you in jail for the attempted blackmail, Ms. Markham. Give it up. You’re not a cop, you don’t know anything. We’re the professionals, let us do our job.”
    Callie struck a pose, tapped her fingertips against her chin. “Hmm, you know, I can see the headline right now in my head. FBI and Metro Police Flummoxed. If you don’t let me work with you, I will investigate on my own. My mother, our friends, the Justices, the clerks, they will talk to me, more easily than they’ll talk to you.
    “Use some brain cells here, Detective Raven. Do you think they’re more likely to tell a cop what’s going on, or me, someone they know, someone they trust?”
    “Has anyone ever decked you, Ms. Markham?”
    She gave him a cocky grin. “There have been those who’ve tried. Don’t you even think about it, Detective.” She looked him up and down. “I could take you down without breaking a sweat.”
    “All right, enough,” Savich said. He turned to Sherlock, who was eyeing Callie with amusement.
    Callie, scenting victory, pushed hard. “Actually I have a black belt in karate. I can take care of myself. I could probably protect Detective Raven too, if it came down to it. The only one I’d be worried about in this group is Agent Sherlock.”
    Savich laughed. “You’re probably right about that.” He heaved a sigh. “There are going to be lots and lots of interviews happening during the next three days. Probably a good fifty agents and local police working the case. What’s one reporter added to the mix? Ben, would you mind keeping Ms. Markham in tow?”
    “Yes, I mind,” Ben Raven said. “I’m not going to be saddled with a reporter—a reporter— Savich. For God’s sake, not even your garden-variety sort of reporter, but an investigative reporter who thinks she’s smart and in reality doesn’t know squat.
    “As for you, Ms. Markham, and your big mouth, if you could take me down, I’d hang it up, leave the force, go find me an isolated cabin in Montana. Savich, you’re worried about blackmail, you take her with you. No damned way is she getting within six feet of me and any suspect. It ain’t going to happen.”

CHAPTER
8
    C ALLIE M ARKHAM SAID to Detective Ben Raven as he drove to Justice Sumner Wallace’s house in Chevy Chase, “Okay, now I’m going to come through as promised. Here’s something I doubt you could have found out. My mother told you that Stewart’s best friend on the court was Justice Sumner Wallace. Maybe that was true at one time, but not recently. This may shock you, but Justice Wallace has a bit of a reputation with women. I think he was inappropriate with my mother and that Stewart was aware of it. He wasn’t happy with his old golf buddy.”
    Ben was shocked and he tried not to show it, but Callie laughed. “I know, it just doesn’t fit the image. Now, I guess Mom didn’t realize my stepfather knew. She likes to keep the peace, so she wouldn’t have said anything, just ignored it, or handled it herself if it got bad.”
    Ben was still trying to come to grips with something he never would have imagined. “So this Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, this guy who’s older than my dad, was putting the moves on your mother? Are you absolutely sure about this?”
    “Yes. Listen up. Justice Wallace is about sixty-five, not yet ready for the grave, Detective Raven. My mom was talking on the phone about him once to one of her