Point Blank

time.”
    His cell phone rang.
    “Sheriff Noble.”
    Ruth watched Dix’s face as he listened. When he punched off, he said, “That was Cesar Morales. He doesn’t have a name for us.”
    “That sure makes me want to pop out with a profanity. All right, Dix. Cut the tease. Why did he call?”
    “It turns out Dempsey’s girlfriend has been spending lots of cash. They pinned her with it and she finally told the detective that Tommy gave her nine thousand dollars in cash to keep safe until he and Jackie got back from a job.”
    Ruth’s heart speeded up. “Did she give up anything that would help us find out who gave Dempsey the money?”
    “As I said, Cesar didn’t have a name. But Tommy told his girlfriend it was for a job he was doing for a woman.” He paused, and grinned. “What he said, exactly, was that the job was for a crazy bitch at the music school in Maestro.”

CHAPTER 37
MAESTRO SUNDAY EVENING

    DIX PULLED INTO Gordon’s driveway at six o’clock that evening. He turned to Ruth as he unfastened his seat belt. “You armed?”
    “Oh yes.”
    B.B. climbed out of his cruiser to meet them in the driveway. “Sheriff, Agent Warnecki. Somebody with the boys, Sheriff?”
    “The boys went over to the Claussons’ for dinner and Foosball with their friends.”
    “Are you going to arrest him, Sheriff?”
    Dix said, “We’ll see, B.B.” He turned to scan the house as he murmured to Ruth, “When Christie disappeared, everyone in the department became the boys’ substitute mothers.” He turned back to B.B.
    “We’ve got all our ducks in a row. Now, where did he go this afternoon?”
    “He drove to Tara about two o’clock, then came back here maybe an hour ago. Looks like he turned on every light in the house.”
    It did indeed, Dix thought, scanning the house. “I want you to stay in your car, B.B. If for some reason Dr. Holcombe leaves the house before we do, give me a call.”
    “Especially if he’s running around waving a gun,” Ruth added.
    Dix took Ruth’s arm, and they walked up the stone pathway to the front door. Gordon answered the door looking like an aristocrat in a gray cashmere turtleneck sweater and black slacks. Elegant and worldly, but exhausted, his eyes hooded and dull.
    He knows we’re here for him, Dix thought, he knows.
    Gordon paused in the doorway, staring at them. “Dix, Agent Warnecki. It’s Sunday; to what do I owe this pleasure?”
    “We’d like to speak to you, Gordon.”
    Gordon looked over Dix’s shoulder. “I’ve seen your deputy outside. I hope you don’t want to bring him in, too.”
    “No, my deputy is guarding our backs.” Dix walked into the entryway as Gordon gestured them in.
    “We’ve got some things to discuss with you, Gordon, like who hired Tommy Dempsey and Jackie Slater.”
    “Who? Oh, those men you killed in the car chase. Oh, all right. Come on in then, it’s not like I can stop you.” Gordon waved them into the living room.
    Dix and Ruth watched Gordon walk to a drink trolley on the far side of the room, lift a brandy bottle, an eyebrow arched. “Either of you want a drink?”
    Ruth and Dix shook their heads. Dix said, “No, we’re fine.”
    Ruth looked around the large open space, all windows and rich oak, dominated by a large grand piano at the far end of the room. The walls were covered with musical scores, beautifully framed—all of them, she knew, originals penned by the composers themselves. It was a comfortable room, elegant and subtle, filled with earth tones and oversized leather furniture. A fire burned brightly in the stone fireplace. They watched Gordon pour himself a liberal amount of brandy, splashing some of it over the side of the snifter, as if he’d already had too much.
    “You have a lovely Steinway, Dr. Holcombe. I noticed it when we were here before.”
    “Yes, you saw everything, didn’t you, when you searched my house?” Gordon walked to the eleven-foot black grand piano and laid a hand lightly on the keys. “Did you know that Steinway fought at the Battle of Waterloo?”
    They shook their heads, and Gordon sighed, sipped his brandy. “Who cares?”
    Dix said without preamble, “I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet, Gordon, that we know who hired Dempsey and Slater. Or perhaps you already know?”
    “How would I know? Tell me, Dix.”
    “Helen Rafferty.”
    His hand jerked, and more brandy spilled out of his snifter. “Helen hired those two thugs? Why, for heaven’s sake? To kill Agent