Blowout

has always had a roving eye. He’ll never see himself as too old to follow through when he sees a woman he wants.”
    “Do you believe that Justice Wallace and my stepfather were best friends?”
    “If Sumner did behave inappropriately with your mother and Stewart found out about it, I would certainly doubt it. However, I hope Sumner managed to hold himself in check with Margaret.” She rose, looked at one, then the other of them. “Both of you are very young. Try to enjoy this special time. Detective, find the person who did this.”
    They left a few minutes later beneath a noon-high sun that shone brilliantly on the melting snow. Ben waved to the two federal marshals guarding the residence as he drove through the open gate. He said as he turned onto the highway, “Mr. Foxx stayed close throughout the interview, probably right outside the living room.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I smelled his aftershave. Old Spice.”
    “I wonder why he didn’t come in, at least to meet us. We could have thanked him for the coffee and those marvelous brioches.”
    “Good question. That was well done of you, out of the blue asking her about, well, your stepfather messing around. I confess I never even thought of that.”
    “I certainly didn’t get the answer I expected, that’s for sure.”

CHAPTER
14
    45 L AWFORD A VENUE N.E.
G EORGETOWN , W ASHINGTON , D.C.
S UNDAY MORNING
    S AVICH AND S HERLOCK stood a moment on the icy front steps of Justice Lydia Alto-Thorpe’s house, staring at the recently slammed door. The door was still shuddering.
    Sherlock said, “Should I arrest her?”
    “For rudeness? For telling us we’re incompetent?”
    “That’s a start. Goodness, Dillon, I feel like I’ve been bludgeoned. Can she harangue, or what? She slammed the door right in our faces,” Sherlock said. Then she laughed. “She actually slammed the door in two FBI agents’ faces. Isn’t that a kick?”
    “I’m still deciding what it was,” Savich said.
    The Justice had opened the door herself and blocked them, even though she knew who they were since they’d called out their names through the closed front door. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, what have we here? More reporters?”
    Sherlock had given her a sweet smile, pulled out her I.D., flipped it open, and said, “As you see, Justice Alto-Thorpe, we’re FBI agents. May we come in?”
    Justice Alto-Thorpe had said out of a mouth so tightly seamed they could barely see it, “This is ridiculous. I’ve already spoken to everyone. I know nothing about any of this except that you’re all incompetent idiots. A madman invaded the Supreme Court of the United States of America and murdered a Supreme Court Justice! This is ludicrous, unforgivable, and disgraceful! You allowed it to happen. All of you should be fired, beginning with the Marshal of the Supreme Court, Alice Halpern. The Attorney General should be shot. The President should resign.”
    And that had been only her opening salvo.
    They walked back to Savich’s Porsche. Savich waved to the two federal marshals who were sitting in their car across the street. He would swear there was a look of commiseration on their faces.
    As they drove away, Sherlock said, “Well, even though I feel bruised all over, and we didn’t learn a single thing except the Justice is extraordinarily pissed off, there is an upside to this.”
    “Yeah?”
    “We have lots of time now for Eliza Vickers. She lives in McLean?”
    Savich nodded, as he carefully negotiated a corner. “I guess you could say she is royally pissed.”
    “Bludgeoned, we’ve been bludgeoned by an expert.” She sighed. “After we speak with Ms. Vickers we’ll go home for lunch and see Sean and Lily. Hopefully everyone will be smiling and glad to see us. That will bolster our egos. Isn’t Simon coming down from New York today to see Lily?”
    “You bet. He’s trying to talk my sister into marrying him sooner rather than later. What do you think?”
    “I guess we’ll see,” Sherlock said, and settled back for the drive to McLean. “Simon’s a pretty good talker.”
    E LIZA V ICKERS OPENED the front door of her condo as soon as Savich’s Porsche pulled into the driveway. The condo complex—The Oaks—looked lovely under a pristine blanket of snow. The individual condos were good-sized, modern, and well maintained. The grounds were nicely kept, the sidewalks well shoveled. The complex backed up against a maple and oak