Cooked Goose

McGivney’s wife, and DeCianni’s girl. They say the men almost never wore the rings and never said where they got them. In fact, DeCianni’s girlfriend and him had a big fight about his. She thought maybe some other girl gave it to him.”
    “I’m sure you’ve shown that to your rape victims,” Ryan said.
    “Of course I did. And no, they don’t particularly remember it. A couple gave me a weak ‘maybe.’ And Yardley was the only one with a star-shaped bruise.”
    “Have you shown this around your station house,” Gibson asked, “to see if anybody has a clue as to what it might mean? They might even know if someone else wears such a thing.”
    “I wanted to.” Dirk popped an apple slice into his mouth along with a chocolate-dipped banana hunk. “But the captain told me not to. Says he wants to keep that particular element under wraps for the moment.”
    Gibson continued to study the ring, turning over and over in the light of Savannah’s Tiffany-style lamp. “This isn’t an especially good piece of jewelry. The workmanship is a bit amateurish. And there’s no stamp to indicate the gold content, although I’d say it’s low, probably about nine karat. It may have been cast by a local smith.”
    “I’ve already checked every jewelry shop in town,” Dirk said. “They’ve never seen anything like it.”
    “I’ll bet your captain is putting the pressure on,” Ryan said, giving Dirk a look of sympathy mixed with a bit of respect. Dirk seemed to respond with a modicum of gratitude. Savannah smiled inwardly; maybe her best friends would learn to tolerate each other, after all.
    “Pressure? Not really.” Dirk glanced into the living room and lowered his voice. “To be honest, the captain’s been a little weird about this, low key, like he doesn’t give a damn if I wrap it up or not.”
    “Mm’m-m-m.” Gibson handed back the ring. “That is rather strange. With his officers dropping like the proverbial flies, you’d think he’d have a burning desire to see this chap apprehended as soon as possible.”
    Savannah was about to ask every one if they were ready for coffee, when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. “It’s after eight. I wonder who that is?” She stood and wiped the chocolate from her fingertips on her napkin. Quietly, she said, “Maybe it’s Bloss, come to acknowledge his daughter’s existence for a change. She’s only received a couple of one-minute phone calls from him since she got here. And it being Christmas.”
    But when Savannah opened the door, she saw—not the hated Bloss—but another male who wasn’t much higher on her list. “Butch!” she said. “What a shock... I mean, surprise!” Looking over his shoulder, Savannah could see an ancient battleship of some sort sitting at the curb. She couldn’t believe he had driven the thing all the way from Georgia without a breakdown.
    Her brother-in-law pushed past her and into the small foyer. He was skinny, dirty-haired, slovenly dressed and in need of a shave. In Savannah’s estimation, the epitome of “yahoo.” Weekly she watched more upstanding-looking citizens arrested on the television show, Cops.
    And he didn’t appear to be in a very good mood. “Where is she?” he demanded. She could smell the beer on his breath and the aroma of pot smoke on his clothes. “Who? Vidalia?”
    “Uh-huh. That so-called wife of mine. Took off with my kids and hauled ‘em halfway to China . Where is she?”
    She grabbed the sleeve of his rumpled T-shirt. “She’s asleep. And your kids are having a story read to them, so why don’t you keep your voice down and—”
    “Who the hell are you to tell me to keep my voice down? You may be Vi’s big sis, but you ain’t mine.”
    “Listen, you,” she said. “This is my home, and while you’re in it you’ll keep your voice down and behave yourself like a gentleman. Because if you don’t, you’re leaving... before you even catch a glimpse of your family.”
    “And who’s gonna throw me out on my ear, you?” Savannah gave him her dirtiest look and shoved her face close to his. “Think about it, Butch. My right thigh weighs more than your scrawny ass, and the rest of you, too. Now, do you really want to wrestle?”
    He thought that one over for a moment and reconsidered. ‘I want to see my kids. I want to have a word... a nice, quiet, talkin’ to... with my wife. That’s all.”
    “Then you stay right here and I’ll send the