Point Blank

Tony, please. Why are you still here in Maestro?”
    “I’m here to find out who tried to kill me. It appears that the same person also killed Erin Bushnell.”
    His face tightened. “I can’t believe she’s dead. My dad told me and my wife, Cynthia. She’s really upset. She and Erin were like sisters.”
    This was odd, Dix thought. To the best of his knowledge Cynthia Holcombe had never liked anyone of her own sex, beginning with her own mother and two sisters, whom he’d heard Cynthia refer to as the old bitch and her two whining whelps. Her dislike had extended to her sister-in-law Christie, whom she’d called a gun-toting right-wing redneck. Christie a redneck—it still boggled his mind. As for what Cynthia thought of him, he wasn’t about to go there. She was like a sister to Erin Bushnell?
    “How is Cynthia?” Dix asked, holding out a mug of black coffee with two sugar cubes to his brother-in-law, and waiting for him to pull off his gloves.
    “Distraught, as I said. She wanted me to find out what you’re doing, what you know. I heard you found her in Winkel’s Cave. Do you have any idea who might have done this?”
    “Yes, Tony, we found her in Winkel’s Cave, where her killer left her. How did Cynthia meet Erin Bushnell?”
    “At a concert at Stanislaus last year, but that’s not important now. Dix, if you hadn’t gone to Winkel’s Cave, if my father hadn’t shown you that back entrance, no one would ever have known she was dead.”
    “Very true.”
    “She would have simply disappeared, like Christie.”
    Dix’s face was impassive. He nodded.
    Tony turned to Ruth, who was sipping her own coffee. She’d laced it liberally with cream, realizing quickly if she didn’t, it would clot blood. “I heard you were hunting some kind of treasure, that you found a cave chamber no one knew was there.”
    “That’s right,” Ruth said. So bits and pieces had gotten out, which wasn’t too bad as long as it didn’t go any further.
    Chappy had given Tony a few facts, Dix thought, but not everything, thank the good Lord. Chappy never could keep his mouth shut, except when it came to money. He could tell Ruth was assessing Tony, like a cop would a suspect in a crime. He watched her push her hair behind her ear, a habit of hers. It took only a moment for her hair to swing back again. Thick, dark hair, with a bit of a curl to it. Dix watched Tony focus all of his bred-to-the-bone intensity on Ruth, then he eyed both of them in frustration. “Dad asked me to drop by and invite the two of you over to lunch, said you wouldn’t be available for dinner because the other two FBI agents are coming back this evening.”
    “How does your father know that?” Ruth asked. Without thinking, she took a sip of coffee, and shuddered.
    “Dad spoke to Rafer this morning, caught him as he was going to school. Told him Agent Savich and Agent Sherlock were going to fly in a special FBI Bell helicopter up to Philadelphia on a case. He didn’t know what it was, but he said they would be back for dinner tonight.”
    Dix grunted. He’d have to speak to both his boys. He wondered if either of them could even spell “
    discretion.” He’d give them the loose lips talk.
    “Why did they take off for Philadelphia all of a sudden?”
    “That’s an FBI matter, Tony,” Ruth said. “I’d like to have lunch with your dad. Will you and your wife be there as well? She could tell me all about Erin Bushnell and their sisterhood.”
    Tony Holcombe’s eyes darkened, suspecting sarcasm, but not hearing any he finally nodded and set his mug on Dix’s desk. “I must get to the bank now.” He pulled on his black leather gloves.
    “How’s the banking business, Tony?”
    Tony Holcombe shrugged as he opened the office door. “Things are going quite well, but you know Dad
    —he’ll never admit it, says everything’s been going to hell in a handbasket since I’ve been running things.
    ”
    They heard him greet some of the deputies on his way out.
    “He seems quite likable,” Ruth said. “I’d sure hate to be in his shoes.”
    Dix said, “Tony’s always had to walk in Chappy’s long shadow. If I’d been born in Tony’s shoes, I’d have left the state a long time ago, made my own way as far from Chappy as I could get. Now, I want to head over and meet with Ginger Stanford, Gloria’s daughter, see what she has to say about Erin Bushnell. So far, Erin is a beloved, talented sister to my sister-in-law Cynthia, and