Point Blank

feel?”
    “Chappy,” Dix said pleasantly, “let me introduce you to FBI Special Agent Ruth Warnecki.”
    “Yeah, so I heard, Miss Warnecki. What a kick to meet a female FBI agent.”
    Ruth stuck out her hand to the old man still standing in the doorway in front of her. “Yes, a kick is a good way to describe it.” She pumped his hand.
    “Chappy Holcombe, at your service, ma’am. What do you think of my grandboys?”
    “Well, I’m wearing Rob’s sweatshirt, jeans, and coat, and Rafe’s socks. I’d say that at this point in my life they’re pretty indispensable to me.”
    Chappy showed lovely white teeth when he grinned at her. “You know, Agent, you have the look of my little sister, Lizzie. It was sad though. Died of leukemia when she was fifteen.” He looked at Savich and Sherlock. “And who are these folks?”
    After the introductions, Chappy stepped back and waved them into an immense entrance hall covered in twelve-inch black-and-white marble squares that gleamed even in the dull winter light. Because he’d kept them all standing in the open doorway for five minutes, it was ten degrees colder in the house than it should have been. They watched him push the great door closed.
    “Three FBI agents in my house all at once,” he said as he waved them into the living room, which was, surprisingly, very cozy. It was filled with family photographs, many of them going back to the turn of the twentieth century. “We get some of Dix’s deputies visiting from time to time, but this is a first.”
    Dix said, “Where is everyone?”
    “God knows where Cynthia is, probably at the new shopping mall over near Williard. Tony’s at the bank.”
    “You’re retired, Mr. Holcombe?” Savich asked.
    “Nah, I won’t hang it up until I start drooling on our big-gun bank clients. I can do most of my stuff here at home. Ah, here’s Mrs. Goss. Would you bring some scones and drinks, dear? Everyone sit and you can tell me what this is all about.”

CHAPTER 12
    TARA MONDAY AFTERNOON
    “AND WHAT IS it you want to know about Winkel’s Cave, Dix?”
    Dix said, “Christie told me you’ve explored every cave in the area, Chappy. She said Winkel’s Cave is your favorite, that you know every square inch of it. So I’m asking you to tell us whether there are any other entrances, other caves that communicate with Winkel’s besides the main entrance?”
    Ruth sat forward in a lovely Louis XV chair, her scone cupped in a napkin so no crumbs would fall on the green satin chair cover. “It’s very important to us, sir,” she added. Chappy looked at each of them in turn and put his coffee cup down on the small table beside him, a very old and elegant antique, Sherlock noted, that shone with the high gloss of excellent care. He said, “
    Maybe there are. There are dozens of small caves around here, and some larger ones, too, but I never found any I could get through to Winkel’s Cave. Of course, those limestone and dolomite caves are incredibly complex, and some of them might communicate with each other through channels you’d never know about, much less get through. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you want to know something like that. Why the devil do you want to get into Winkel’s Cave through a back door when there’s a perfectly good main entrance?”
    Ruth realized in that instant that the arched opening she’d found probably hadn’t been known to any other human being in a hundred and fifty years. She heard Dix say in that calm, measured voice of his, “I’
    d just as soon keep that close to my vest for the moment, Chappy, if you could bear with us.”
    Chappy chewed on his lower lip a moment, absently picked up a scone, and eyed it as he said, “Well, why shouldn’t I help you? I could show you openings to some of the caves I know near there. It’s not like I have to nail down my takeover strategy for Citibank in the next ten minutes. Hey, don’t sputter your coffee on that pretty sofa, Dix—I was joking. But still, I don’t understand any of this. These caves, why do you want to get into them?”
    Savich said, “We’re following up on what happened to Ruth down there, Mr. Holcombe. She got into one of those caves somehow, through Winkel’s Cave.”
    “So there may be both a front and back door,” Ruth said.
    “Maybe there’s one that passes through to Winkel’s Cave. I remember I stumbled across an opening into a large cave near there when I was a boy looking for