Tail Spin

science, you put up with what’s on your plate, you do your best with the hand you’re dealt, and you hope.”
    She leaned into him, sighed. “Some things are so sad. I hate feeling helpless.”
    “I do, too.”
    When the elevator doors slid open Savich and Sherlock stepped into the lobby to see Jack and Rachael walking toward them.
    Jack said, “I just got a call from Ollie, and was on my way up to you guys. You won’t believe this. Timothy’s office was torched early this morning, his computer toasted, hard disk destroyed, all his hard-copy files burned to a crisp.”
    Sherlock raised her eyes to the heavens. “Why can’t things ever shake out easy?” She kicked at a big ceramic flower pot with fake red geraniums in it.
    “You don’t even seem concerned, Jack,” Savich said. “What do you know that we don’t?”
    “It so happens Molly gave me his laptop, and it has all his patients on it.”
    “Make note of this, Rachael. Jack here’s a prince,” Savich said. “I was looking forward to a lovely eggplant po’ boy for lunch, and now you’ve made that possible.”
    “Eggplant?” Rachael repeated, and looked astonished. “An eggplant po’ boy?”
    “Oh yes,” Sherlock said, smiling, “grilled in only a soupcon of olive oil, available only in our cafeteria on the seventh floor of the Hoover building. Elaine Pomfrey makes the best vegetarian sandwiches in Washington, and this one she prepares especially for Dillon. Thank you, Jack, for having that great news.”
    Savich said to Rachael, “You and Jack need to go to Senator Abbott’s house—your house—get all your stuff. Then we’re going to put you in a safe house.”
    Rachael smiled at all three of them. “Nope, no safe house in this lifetime. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do: I intend to have a chat this very afternoon with Aunt Laurel and Uncle Quincy, after I have some nice crispy fried chicken, maybe a biscuit and mashed potatoes in your famous cafeteria. But I don’t want to hear any more about hiding.”
    Jack said to Savich, “I’ve got some more convincing to do, evidently.”
    Sherlock said, “By the way, the blood samples from two of the shooters from Slipper Hollow are in the lab. We’ll soon know if those bozos are in the system. Still no word from any medical facilities about the guy you shot in Gillette’s kitchen, Jack.”
    “Maybe they’re both dead,” Rachael said, and pushed her hair behind her ears. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”
    Savich held up his hand. “It’s one o’clock. I’m starving. Let’s discuss this over my eggplant po’ boy.” He looked at Rachael. “And your fried chicken.”
    Jack said, “What about the guy Rachael shot in Roy Bob’s garage? Roderick Lloyd?”
    “He’s got himself a lawyer, still refuses to say a word,” Sherlock said. “Our agents searched his apartment, found some credit card receipts that might give us the gold. Lloyd has been to the Blue Fox restaurant over on Maynard four or five times in the past two weeks.
    “Our agent found out Lloyd brought a Lolita with him the past three times, according to one of the waiters, who said she gave him her cell number. We should know who she is anytime now. As for Lloyd, at least he’s no longer a danger to anybody.”
    Rachael said as they walked to the hospital parking lot, “I need a gun. Do you have one to lend me, Sherlock?”
    “Look, Rachael, I know you’re a fine shot, I know your life is on the line here, but I’d be breaking the law if I gave you one.”
    Not wonderful news, but Rachael said, “Okay, I understand. Hey, I wasn’t thinking—I bet Jimmy kept one at home.”
    Savich and Jack both opened their mouths but Sherlock held up her hand. “No, guys, if there’s a gun at home, then what’s wrong with her defending herself? It’s not as if she’s not trained and might shoot somebody who doesn’t deserve it.”
    “Thank you, Sherlock.”
    “I don’t like this,” Jack said. “I really don’t.”
    “Get over it,” Sherlock said, and looked at her husband. “No, no, bad dog, keep quiet.”
    They stopped by the Criminal Apprehension Unit on the fifth floor, introduced Rachael to all the agents present. Ollie showed her a photo of his wile and his little boy. In the cafeteria, while Savich was eating his eggplant po’ boy and Rachael was chewing on a fried chicken leg, Sherlock’s cell rang. She swallowed a bite of taco, then answered.
    She hung up barely a minute later. “We’ve