The Cove

Dillon ran outside.

    "Noelle!" Sally ran through the open French doors onto the patio, yelling her name over and over.

    They turned to see Noelle stumble toward her daughter. The women embraced.

    "I love happy endings," Quinlan said, "Now, Scott, why don't you tell us which woman is your lover-Jill or Monica?"

    "Neither, damn you. I'm gay!"

    "Jesus, that's a kicker," Quinlan said.

    Dillon came back in. There was a huge grin on his face. "Poor old Norman Lipsy just got a nick in the arm. He'll be just fine."

    "I'm glad about that," Quinlan said.

    "Scott is gay, James?" Sally stared at her husband. "You're gay and you married me?"

    "I had to," Scott said. "Your father's ruthless. I'd done just a little fiddling with some clients' accounts, but he discovered it. That's when he got me into the arms deals and told me I had to marry you. He also paid me, but believe me, it wasn't enough to bear you for those six months."

    Quinlan laughed and pulled Sally against him. "I hope this doesn't depress you too much."

    "I think I'll kick up my heels."

    They heard Dr. Beadermeyer cursing outside, then moaning, complaining loudly that his arm was bleeding too much, that he'd die from blood loss, that the bastards wanted him to die.

    They heard Dillon laugh and say loudly, "Justice. I do like to see justice done."

    Sally said, "There's no justice yet. James, where is my father?"

    He kissed her on the mouth and hugged her. "We'll check first to see if his passport is gone. If it isn't, we'll have him soon enough."

    "Another thing," Dillon said, "where is that bloody Roth-Steyr pistol?"

    "I remember running after my father out the French doors. I threw it in the bushes."

    "The cops would have found it. They didn't."

    “Then that means her father saw her throw it away and doubled back to get it," Quinlan said. And he smiled. "That pistol ID's him better than fingerprints."

    "That poor man Doctor Beadermeyer operated on. I wonder who he was?"

    "I don't think we'll ever know, Sally, unless Beadermeyer talks. He was cremated. Damnation, all the clues were there, staring me right in the face. Your father had made out a new will about eight months ago, specifying that he wanted to be cremated immediately. Norman Lipsy was a plastic surgeon. You were certain it was your father on the phone. I should have believed you, but I truly believed that what you heard was some sort of spliced tape recording of his voice. We'll get him, Sally. I promise."

    Quinlan took her home and made her promise to stay there. He had to go to the office and see how the investigation was going.

"But it's after midnight."

    "This is a big deal. The FBI building will be lit up from top to bottom, well, at least most of the fifth floor."

    "Can I go with you?"

    He pictured thirty men and women all talking at the same time, going over reams of paper, one group reviewing what they'd recovered from Amory St. John's office, another group delving into Dr. Beadermeyer's papers.

    Then there was Dr. Beadermeyer to interview-ah, he wanted to get Norman in a room alone, just the two of them and a tape recorder and go at it. He nearly rubbed his hands together.

    "Yes," he said, "you can come, but agents will latch on to you and question you until you want to curl up in the fetal position and sleep."

    "I'm ready to talk," she said and grinned up at him. "Oh, James, I'm so relieved. Scott is gay and my mother wasn't in on anything. There is someone here for me besides you."

    Marvin Brammer, assistant director and head of the Criminal Investigative Division, wanted her examined by FBI doctors and shrinks.

    Quinlan talked him out of it. Sally didn't get to see him do it, but she just bet he was very good.

    She ended up talking at length to Marvin Brammer. He, without realizing it, was positively courtly with her.

    By the end of the hour-long interview, he'd gotten even more details of that night from her. Brammer was one of the best interviewers in the FBI, an organization known for its excellent interview skills. Maybe he was even better than Quinlan, but she doubted if James would admit that.

    When she came out of Marvin Brammer's office, Brammer behind her with his hand lightly holding her elbow, there was Noelle sitting in the small waiting area, asleep. She looked young and very pretty. She looked, Sally thought, just like she should look. But she was worried about her father. What if he got to Noelle again? What if he got to her? She'd said all