Ricochet

Chapter 21

SAVICH’S SECRETARY, KENNY, RECOILED FROM DEEDEE’S COIFFURE with unconcealed horror. “I can recommend a product that will help control that.”

“Control what?” she asked, flashing him her badge.

“Oh dear.”

Duncan didn’t know if his lament was over DeeDee’s frizzy hairdo or the police being there to question his boss.

As they entered Savich’s office, he smiled from behind his desk and politely motioned them to sit in the matching chairs facing him. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Why’s that?” Duncan asked.

“Because whenever you’ve got a murder without a suspect, you come to me. I’m flattered, Detective Hatcher. Truly I am. But being your fall guy on a regular basis is testing my patience.”

“What do you know about Elise Laird?”

His startling blue eyes shifted to DeeDee, who’d posed the question without preamble. “In what context?”

“In the context that she’s been missing for a week.”

“Well, in that context, I know nothing except what I’ve read in the newspaper or heard on television.” Dismissing DeeDee, he returned his unblinking gaze to Duncan. “Did Kenny offer you some refreshment?”

“Just days before she went missing, you met with Elise Laird in a topless bar called White Tie and Tails.”

Savich formed a steeple with his fingers and mused aloud, “Do you think the name of that club has racial implications?”

“The meeting, Savich.”

Duncan ’s impatience made him grin. “Someone’s pulling your leg, Detective Hatcher.”

“Detective Bowen and I are very busy these days. Please don’t waste our time. Tell us the purpose of your tête-à-tête in that dark booth with Elise Laird.”

“There was no such tête-à-tête.”

“Someone told us otherwise.”

Savich remained unruffled. “Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is after the fifty-thousand-dollar reward her husband has offered.”

“That someone is a reliable source,” DeeDee said.

Gordie Ballew was about as reliable as a snake oil salesman’s verbal guarantee, but Duncan nodded his agreement to DeeDee’s lie.

Savich said, “He’s lying.”

“I didn’t say it was a he.”

Savich gave a negligent wave of his hand. “He, she, whatever. Your snitch is lying.”

“I’d put my money on you being the liar,” DeeDee said. “We have the time and the place of the meeting, plus a witness willing to testify to it. Now, think real hard, Savich. Concentrate. Are you sure you didn’t have a meeting last week with Elise Laird?”

Savich assessed her while idly drumming his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. After several moments, he said, “I bet you eat pussy, don’t you?”

She would have lunged from her chair if Duncan hadn’t clothes-lined her across the chest to keep her in her seat. Her angry reaction was exactly what Savich was after. Duncan had learned that lesson the hard way and had spent two days in jail as a consequence.

Before they arrived, he’d reminded DeeDee to beware of Savich’s manipulations and warned her against reacting to them. Savich would push whatever buttons he could to distract them.

Duncan gave DeeDee a warning look, then went back to Savich. “You’re lying about that meeting. We know it took place. So, why not just give it up sooner rather than later and tell us what you know about Elise Laird.”

“I know that she’s a lovely girl,” he said. “Or was the last time I saw her.”

“When was that?”

“Hmm, it’s been a long time. Certainly before she got married, and how long has that been?” Focused on Duncan now, he said silkily, “But she’s not a woman you easily forget, is she? I met her while she was working at the White Tie and Tails. I remember the first time she…entertained me. I was captivated by her.”

He laughed out loud. “Ah, I see by your expression that you’re not immune to her charms, Detective Hatcher. How reassuring. It’s nice to know that you have the same base appetites as the rest of us mere mortals.”

Duncan was seething inside but kept his expression schooled.

Savich snickered, then continued. “As alluring as Elise was, I suggested it would further her career if she got breast implants. She didn’t embrace the idea. Actually, that’s an understatement. She was quite opposed to it.”

He opened a silver box on his desk and took a long, black cigarette from it. “Either of you care for one?” When neither deigned to answer, he fit the cigarette into an ivory filter and lit it with a gold lighter, snapping the lid closed with a decisive click that snuffed out the flame. He inhaled deeply and directed a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“In retrospect,” he said, “I believe Elise was right to reject my suggestion. Her breasts are very soft and sexy in their natural state.”

Duncan wanted to yank the cigarette from Savich’s smiling lips, grind it out against his eyeball, and then push the smooth-talking son of a bitch through the plate glass window behind his desk.

Stiffly, he asked Savich if he’d known Meyer Napoli.

“I knew who he was, of course.”

“Did you ever retain his services?” DeeDee asked.

“What an absurd notion, even for you, Detective Bowen.”

“Why absurd?”

“Why would I hire a private investigator with limited resources and skills?”

“When you have people on your payroll who do that kind of dirty work for you.”

Savich said nothing.

DeeDee said, “We can question everyone who was in the club that afternoon. Someone will remember that meeting between you and the judge’s wife.”

Savich smiled at her veiled threat. Balancing his cigarette in a crystal ashtray, he opened his lap drawer and withdrew a business card, then slid it across the desk toward her. “There was no such meeting. Your snitch is lying. However, if you insist on wasting everyone’s time, I can guarantee the full cooperation of the manager of the White Tie and Tails.

“That’s his card with his phone number, fax number, and e-mail address. Kenny also has his private cell phone number. You can ask for it on your way out.” Having called her bluff, he stood up. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for a business meeting.”

Neither of the detectives moved. Finally DeeDee turned her head. “ Duncan?”

He was engaged in a staring duel with the criminal. “Meet me outside.”

She stood up, but hesitated. “Are you-”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly walked out. Kenny said something to her; she responded, matching his bitchy tone.

Duncan didn’t break eye contact with Savich. “I’ll find out, you know. What that meeting with Elise Laird was about. I’ll find out.”

Savich’s eyes glittered as coldly as the diamond in his earlobe. They didn’t change, not even when his lips slowly formed a wide smile. “You seem to have a real fire in your belly for this case, Detective. Even more so than usual. I wonder why that is. Could it be…”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Do I detect a crack in your armor of righteousness? Could a mere woman have caused that breach? Is snatch your weakness, Detective Sergeant Hatcher?” He made a tsking sound. “How disappointingly ordinary. And how very sad for you that the object of your affection is feared dead.”

He laughed long and loud at Duncan ’s expense. Then, leaning across his desk, he whispered, “Happy hunting.”

Later that afternoon the detectives went to the Chatham County Detention Center and were granted twenty minutes with Gordie Ballew. While his court-appointed attorney stood by, Duncan, feeling the aftereffects of his infuriating meeting with Savich, hammered him with questions about what he’d seen at the topless bar.

Duncan had to learn what business Elise had with Savich. It was important to their investigation, certainly. It was possibly even more important to him.

He bore down on Gordie Ballew. “What were they doing?”

“Talking.”

“Just the two of them?”

“Yeah. Private.” The more nervous Gordie got, the more noticeable his speech impediment became. “In a booth. Like I told you. Like I’ve told you a hunnerd times already.”

He claimed not to have known the blond woman’s identity or realized the significance of her meeting with Savich until he saw Elise Laird’s picture on the front page of the newspaper. “I recognized her right off.”

“Why didn’t you notify us immediately?”

“Took five days to get his sorry ass over here to see me!” Gordie exclaimed, casting a disparaging glance toward the lawyer, who yawned in response.

“You know how bad I want Savich for Freddy Morris and others,” Duncan said.

“Yeah. So?”

“So I think you reconsidered the offer you turned down last week. You made up this bullshit story so you’d have something juicy to bargain with.”

Gordie looked wildly at DeeDee and the lawyer, neither of whom offered him an escape hatch. Coming back to Duncan, he said, “It ain’t like that.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“I saw her with Savich,” the small man insisted, his nasal voice rising in pitch.

“That’s not the club where you were arrested later that night for assault.”

“Right. I left the White Tie and went to that other place.”

“Savich see you at the White Tie?”

That possibility made him visibly fearful. He squirmed in his seat. “He wasn’t paying no attention to me. I was on the other side of the club, watching the show, one of them girls getting it on with a brass pole.”

“You were skulking in a dark strip joint-”

“What’s skulking?”

“Were you drunk?”

“No.”

“Gor-dee,” Duncan said.

“Okay, okay, I was getting there, but I wasn’t drunk yet.”

“High?”

His eyes darted about evasively, but then he said, “I may have had something. I don’t remember.”

“But you remember the blonde Savich was in conversation with.”

“Yeah.”

“From across a dark nightclub. While you were high and drunk. And days later you conveniently recognized her as Elise Laird.”

Gordie bobbed his head emphatically. “That’s right. What you just said, Hatcher. That’s it in a nutshell.”

Duncan stood up and shoved his chair beneath the table. “You’re full of crap.”

“No! I swear I’m not! Not this time.”

“Why should this time be any different? Oh, wait.” Duncan snapped his fingers. “The reward. That’s the difference.”

“That fifty grand’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Duncan shouted. “You heard about the fifty-thousand-dollar reward. You know I want Savich. Bingo. You’ve made up this story and wasted my time, which I have precious little of these days. I have even less patience with lying, sniveling lumps of maggot shit like you, Gordie.”

“Okay, Hatcher, maybe I have lied to you a few times before,” he said, his voice cracking. “But not this time. I swear it, I…Where are you going?” he squealed in panic as Duncan headed for the door.

“We’ll get back to you,” Duncan said over his shoulder as he and DeeDee walked out.

Worley was waiting for them on the other side of the door. “What do you think?”

Duncan expelled a long breath as he thoughtfully watched through the small window as Gordie was escorted from the room by guards. “He’s a habitual liar. But either he’s gotten exceptionally good at it, or he’s telling the truth this time. He’s stuck to his story without changing a word. Let’s give him overnight to fret about it, then come at him again. In the meantime, let’s take this to the judge. See what-”

“Ixnay.” Worley poked a fresh toothpick into his mouth. “No can do, Dunk. Orders from above.”

“What the hell?”

“I knew you’d be pissed. That’s why I put off telling you until after you’d had a crack at Savich and Gordie here, but Captain Gerard said we’re not to confront the judge about his wife’s alleged meeting with Savich.”

DeeDee sputtered, “Are you serious?”

“As death and taxes,” Worley said. “Gerard bounced Gordie’s story off the chief, who practically bounced Gerard out of his office. Through this whole ordeal, they’ve managed to keep a lid on Mrs. Laird’s history as a topless dancer. You can imagine the field day the media would have with that. But an association with Savich would make her G-string days look like Sunday school.”

DeeDee said, “If memory serves, it was Chief Taylor himself who ordered us to use every resource available to solve the mystery of Mrs. Laird’s disappearance, right?”

“I’m only telling you what Gerard told me,” Worley said. “Gerard said that Chief Taylor said that this business about her and Savich was a story from a con trying to create a better bargaining position for himself, and that the judge didn’t need to be made aware of it until we had indisputable proof. He asked what were the chances of Mrs. Laird having anything to do with a criminal like Robert Savich.”

“What were the chances of her having anything to do with Meyer Napoli?” DeeDee really didn’t expect an answer and none was forthcoming. She divided a look between Worley and Duncan, landing on Duncan. “Well? Our hands having been tied, what do we do from here?”

We find Elise so I can demand to know what the fuck she was doing with Savich. That’s what Duncan was thinking, but that’s not what he said. “We keep looking for her.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows.

The thunder preceded the rain that began that afternoon and fell relentlessly over the next forty-eight hours. It made the recovery mission more problematic, and literally dampened the spirits of everyone involved, so that by the third consecutive day of rain without any sign of letup, the mood in the VCU was funereal.

Even though it was Saturday, no one was taking a weekend off. The detectives were gathered in Duncan ’s office, going over what they knew, speculating on what they didn’t. The ballistics report was back on the bullet the ME had removed from Napoli -no match for it on any of the national crime databases. Dead end there.

Worley gnawed his toothpick. “If she went into the river, whether she was pushed or jumped, how come she hasn’t popped up yet? Usually doesn’t take this long. Ten days?”

“Maybe she was never in the river,” Duncan said.

“Maybe she was never on the bridge.” The men turned to DeeDee, who expanded her thought. “ Napoli was driving back into the city. He could’ve dumped her body in South Carolina somewhere. Miles of marsh, forests. Lots of places to hide remains.”

“What about her sandals?” Worley asked.

“He realized he had them, stopped on the bridge to get rid of them-”

“And the Wicked Witch of the West flew in on her broom and shot him.”

“It was just a thought, Worley,” she said snidely.

To her further irritation, she lost the coin toss and had to go out in the downpour to pick up lunch. She had just returned and was passing out the sandwiches when Cato Laird surprised them by walking into the office unannounced.

He looked like he’d lost at least a pound for each of the ten days his wife had been unaccounted for. His golfing tan had turned sallow. His eyes were sunk deep into their dark sockets. His shoulders were stooped. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. His clothes and hair were wet, adding to his ragged appearance. His unexpected arrival silenced everyone in the unit. All eyes were on him as he approached Duncan, who was trying to work up enough enthusiasm to take a bite of the sandwich that DeeDee had foisted on him.

“Detective Hatcher, we need to talk.”

Duncan motioned for the judge to follow him into his tiny office. Once they were seated, the judge laid a manila envelope on Duncan ’s desk, then glanced toward the open door. “I suppose they should be in on this, too.”

“DeeDee, Worley,” Duncan called, knowing they were well within hearing distance. They appeared almost immediately.

“Captain Gerard, too,” the judge said. “Is he here?”

“We’re all working overtime. I’ll get him.” DeeDee wheeled about and went to summon Gerard.

“Can I get you some coffee? Water?” Duncan wasn’t being hospitable. He extended the offer merely to postpone hearing whatever it was the judge was about to tell them regarding the manila envelope lying on his desk. It looked ordinary enough, but he had a bad feeling about it. If it contained anything hopeful, the judge wouldn’t be acting like the end of the world was nigh.

“Judge Laird?” Gerard squeezed into the room and shook hands with him. “Detective Bowen said you wanted to see us.”

Nodding, the judge reached for the envelope. The metal clasp remained closed, but the seam at the top had been slit open. “This morning, in an attempt to get my mind off Elise, I decided to attack the mail that had piled up since her…disappearance.

“I found this. I don’t know when it was delivered, but it’s postmarked the day of…the day Meyer Napoli died and Elise disappeared.” He glanced around at his raptly attentive audience. “I think this will explain…Well, you’ll see.”

And with that, he slid the contents of the envelope onto Duncan ’s desk. There were about a dozen eight-by-ten black-and-white photographs. The grainy quality of some indicated that the pictures had been taken through a telephoto lens. Elise and Robert Savich were together in each of them, obviously unaware that they were being photographed.

“As you can see, the venues are different.” Cato Laird spoke haltingly, his voice fractured by apparent pain and dismay. “So is their clothing. That indicates several meetings over a period of time, wouldn’t you think?”

The detectives were studying the photographs, handling them carefully to avoid smudging any fingerprints that might be on them. Duncan hadn’t touched them, but he picked up the business card that had been sent with them in the envelope. It was engraved with Meyer Napoli’s name, business address, and several numbers where he could be contacted, exactly like the card they’d found at the scene of his murder.

Gerard said, “ Napoli was blackmailing your wife.”

The judge sighed heavily. “So it would appear. And since he sent these to me, I suppose he intended to blackmail me also.”

“You didn’t know Mrs. Laird was acquainted with Robert Savich?”

DeeDee’s question sparked his imperious nature. “Of course not.”

In every shot, the two were fully clothed. All but a few of the photos had been taken outdoors, although the close-up framing made it impossible to determine the location. The pair didn’t appear to be intimate, merely comfortable with each other and engrossed in whatever it was they were discussing. There was nothing lewd, or even compromising, about the photographs, except that a superior court judge’s wife was in the company of a notorious criminal. That in itself was explosive.

“If I were to guess…”

“Please, Judge,” Gerard said, encouraging him to continue when he faltered.

“If I were to guess, I think perhaps Napoli stumbled across this…this…acquaintanceship when he was following Elise for me. When he saw her with Savich, her visits with Coleman Greer became of secondary importance.” He glanced at the photographs, then quickly away. “ Napoli would have realized that these photos could be far more damaging to both of us. He was trying to cash in on his bonanza.”

“Trotter was his messenger boy,” DeeDee said.

The judge winced. “I suppose. Whether accidentally or intentionally-naturally I prefer to believe the former-Elise foiled that plan.”

“Between the time you heard the shots fired and when you reached the study, did she have time to hide a set of these photographs?”

He gave a small nod. “She could have stashed them somewhere, intending to retrieve them later. In fact, I’ve caught her in the study several times recently, startling her when I came in. Guilty reactions, I realize now.” He dwelled on that for a moment, then said, “She probably destroyed the set of photos Trotter delivered. But Napoli, being Napoli, would have had a backup set. This set.”

“The night of the bridge incident, Napoli told her that he had mailed these pictures to you,” Gerard surmised.

“I suppose she became enraged and…”

“And used your missing twenty-two to kill him,” DeeDee said, finishing for him.

The judge covered his face with both hands and began to weep.

“Is there someone you’d like us to call?” Gerard asked quietly.

He shook his head, but he didn’t lower his hands from his face, and he didn’t speak.

Gerard indicated the door and the detectives shuffled out. “I think he deserves a few minutes of privacy,” the captain said to his subordinates once they were outside Duncan ’s office.

“He’s got some heavy shit to absorb,” Worley said. “ Napoli ’s one thing, but Savich? Jeez. But how does he factor in?”

Duncan had no answer for him, but he’d been trying to stave off a most disturbing thought. Was it even remotely possible that Savich had sent Elise to him? He recalled the smug manner in which Savich had taunted him about his evident interest in her. Had she been Savich’s secret weapon, the one Duncan had feared he wouldn’t see coming? The one that would destroy him?

Breaking into his thoughts, Gerard said, “I’ll clear it with the chief first, but I think it’s time we had another go-around with Gordie Ballew.” He asked DeeDee to call Gordie’s pro bono lawyer and make the arrangements. “We want to talk to him as soon as possible,” Gerard told her as she moved away to make the call. “Tonight. Make sure he understands that.”

“Got it.”

“Looks like for once the little weasel is telling the truth,” Worley remarked. “Who’d have thunk it possible?”

Judge Laird emerged from Duncan ’s office, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “I feel I should inform Chief Taylor of this myself. Will you come along with me, Bill?”

“Certainly.”

“I would appreciate that.”

“It’s going to get ugly for you, Judge, once all this gets out,” Gerard said.

“I’m aware of that. However, the only thing the photographs really prove is that Elise and Savich are speaking acquaintances. They’re doing nothing criminal in them. They’re not sexual. And perhaps I’m wrong about the timing of them. For all we know, they could have been taken years ago, before she even met me.”

Gerard glanced at Duncan, effectively assigning him the job of dispelling that myth. “Actually, Judge, someone has come forward. He claims to have seen Mrs. Laird with Savich at the club where she used to work. This meeting took place only days before she disappeared.”

The judge took a staggering step backward. “What? That recently?”

“So he says.”

“Who is this individual?”

“A guy presently in jail on an assault charge,” Duncan replied.

“How long have you had this information? Why wasn’t I told?”

Gerard jumped in. “This man is a repeat offender with a long record. Chief Taylor figured he was only after the award, maybe a reduced sentence. He asked that we not bother you with his story until we had corroboration.”

“However,” Duncan said, “he’s been questioned at length and swears he’s telling the truth. If he is…” He paused to swallow the bile that filled the back of his throat. “If he is, then it’s possible Savich was somehow connected to your wife’s disappearance.”

“This man in jail…what’s his name?” the judge asked excitedly, showing more animation and hopefulness than he had in recent days.

“Gordie Ballew.”

“If he’s acquainted with Savich, maybe he knows more than he’s telling. Maybe he knows where Elise is.”

The man’s renewed optimism was almost more heartbreaking to witness than his earlier despair. Even if they found his wife alive, she would be charged with Napoli ’s murder. He seemed to have forgotten that. Or else he didn’t care, so long as she was alive.

Gerard tried to match his hopefulness. “If anybody can wring information from Ballew, it’s Duncan. You’re welcome to observe when he questions him again.”

“He won’t be questioning him again.” Though DeeDee had addressed all of them as she approached, she was looking at Duncan. “About an hour ago, Gordie Ballew opened his carotid artery with the tine of a plastic fork. He’s dead.”

DeeDee’s announcement had the effect of a death knell. Worley moved to his desk and began rifling drawers in search of a forbidden cigarette, which he saved for emergencies.

Gerard sat down on the corner of a desk and despondently stared at the floor.

The judge didn’t seem to understand the impact of Gordie Ballew’s suicide. “You can still implicate Savich, can’t you? Why don’t you question him directly?”

Duncan had begun to feel that he would suffocate in this room. First the photographs of Savich with Elise. Then his gnawing suspicion that his seduction had been orchestrated by Savich. Now the loss of Gordie Ballew.

Although he’d felt like ranting over each of these disclosures, somehow he had managed to function with the cool detachment that was expected. But the judge’s inane question caused his anger to erupt.

“Why don’t we question Savich? Don’t you think we have?” he shouted, his voice quaking with wrath. “Gordie Ballew is dead. So Savich’s meeting with your wife might just as well never have happened. It’s been deleted. Like that.” He clapped his hands together as though squashing a mosquito between them.

“And isn’t it just a little late for you to be gung-ho to nail Savich? You let him go! If not for you and your damned mistrial, he would be behind bars, not out destroying people. Destroying lives.”

“ Duncan.” That from Gerard. He spoke softly, but the admonishment couldn’t have been more effective.

Every cell in Duncan ’s body throbbed with fury. He felt like hitting something, hurting something, but he clamped his jaws shut to keep from saying anything more.

DeeDee cleared her throat and said diplomatically, “Savich denied any such meeting with your wife took place, Judge. It’s unlikely that anyone else will come forward now.”

The judge exhaled a shuddering sigh and sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “The photographs explain a lot. Elise was leading a double life. It culminated with her killing Napoli. Then she jumped from the bridge.” He made eye contact with each of them, as though hoping someone would dispute the hypothesis. None did. “All this time we’ve been searching for her and hoping we’d find her alive, she’s been dead, hasn’t she?” His voice gave out and he sobbed. “I guess it’s over.”

“Wrong,” Duncan said. “It’s not over until her body is found.”

He stormed out of the VCU and was halfway to the detention center before he even realized where he was headed. Mistrusting what he might say or do if he stayed a moment longer in the office, he’d been intent only on escape.

But subconsciously he must have resolved that Gordie Ballew’s death would not go unnoticed. He was the latest of Savich’s victims, as surely as if Savich himself had dug into his neck with that fork.

Somehow Savich had gotten to Gordie Ballew and persuaded him that even a bloody suicide was a far more graceful way out of this life than the violent exit Savich had planned for him.

Jail bars would have been no barrier. Savich had tentacles everywhere, in every field of commerce, every branch of local government, every law enforcement agency. His influence was far-reaching and pervasive. If he wanted to get a message to Gordie in jail, he could have done so with shocking ease.

But Duncan was going to make it harder for him to get away with it.

Unmindful of speed limits, he cut by half the drive time from the Barracks to the jail. He parked and got out, then strode toward the entrance. His plan was to spend some quality time with the guards, whose inattention had allowed Gordie Ballew to commit suicide. At least one of them had to be on Savich’s payroll.

Just then, as though his thoughts had conjured him up, he spotted Savich, strolling coolly through the lobby of the building on his way toward the exit.

Duncan reached the doors first, barged through them, and blocked the man’s path. Savich’s surprise over his sudden appearance was momentary. He smiled pleasantly. “Well, hello, Detective. Fancy meeting you here.”

Duncan ’s hands formed fists at his sides. “Did you come to see for yourself that Gordie Ballew is good and dead?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard about poor Gordie. He’d had such a tragic life, and true to form, it ended badly. I came to claim his body, give it a decent burial.”

“Bullshit. You came to make sure he’d done what you told him to.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tilted his sleek head and gave Duncan a critical once-over. “You’re flushed. Are you that upset over this? I didn’t realize that you and Gordie were that close.”

“Did you dip your finger in his blood?”

“What a revolting thing to say.”

“You had to make certain that Gordie was silenced forever and no longer a threat to you. You wouldn’t trust the newspaper story of a jail cell suicide. You had to check it out for yourself, see if that plastic fork did the trick.”

Savich rolled his eyes. “You’ve topped yourself, Detective Hatcher. This is your most fanciful invention yet. I’m here out of charity for a former employee. Nothing more. Now if you’ll excuse-”

He made to go past Duncan, but Duncan hooked his hand around Savich’s biceps and flung him against the wall, then planted himself in front of him. Bringing his face close, he said, “Did you send her to me?”

“The girl you picked up in the River Street bar? She’s awfully good, isn’t she?”

Duncan placed his forearm across Savich’s throat. “Elise,” he growled.

“Ah, the judge’s fair wife.” Because of the pressure Duncan was applying to his windpipe, his face was turning duskier, but he was smiling. “So I was right. Your interest in her wasn’t entirely professional.”

“Hey, guys?”

Out the corner of his eye, Duncan saw two security guards coming toward them, looking wary. He said, “I’m Hatcher, Savannah PD, homicide.”

“Yeah, uh, we know who you are, Detective. Need any help here?”

“No. Back off.” He pressed his arm harder against Savich’s throat and lowered his voice so that only Savich could hear him. “Did you send her to me?”

“I’m not a matchmaker. Well, except for that one time. I thought you deserved a Saturday night of fun and frolic.”

Duncan blinked against a red mist of rage that clouded his vision. “Did you send Elise to me?”

“Why would that even occur to you? Or don’t you have any confidence in your own sex appeal?”

The guards were edging closer. One had unsnapped the leather holster on his hip and had his hand on the grip of his pistol. “Detective Hatcher,” he said, “if you need assistance-”

“Are you arresting this man?” the other guard asked. “If so-”

“I said back off!” Duncan shouted.

Because of the pressure to his throat, Savich’s laugh was a low gurgle. “You really are unraveling, aren’t you? Poor man. You’re defeated at every turn. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, you’re now enamored of a ghost.” Barely above a whisper, he added, “Take heart, Detective. Maybe Napoli made it quick.”

Duncan ’s fist connected with Savich’s cheekbone with the impetus of a pile driver. He saw the skin split, saw blood, saw Savich’s grimace of pain. His satisfaction, however, was short-lived. The guards surged forward, joined now by two others. Together the four of them dragged him away from Savich, who had calmly taken a handkerchief from his pocket and was using it to stanch the bleeding cut on his cheekbone.

Duncan didn’t struggle with the guards. He let himself be hauled away. But his eyes speared into Savich’s. “Get ready for me. I’m coming for you.”

Only moments before, Savich had been amused. Now his eyes glittered with malice. He hissed, “I look forward to it.”