Double Take

“Sure. Thomas has been active in local and national politics for a good ten years now. I think he originally hails from Southern California, one of those fancy beach places, Malibu, if I remember correctly. He was in with the Hollywood set, which, I’d say, has been the ruin of many a good brain. I know he was active in L.A. politics before he got involved on the national level. As I said, he moved up here maybe ten years ago. Maybe there was a falling out, I don’t know, or maybe it was simply that he wanted to reheadquarter up here. He made all his money in refineries and oil exploration, but he’s diversified now, got his fingers in lots of things, including several software companies in Silicon Valley. He didn’t marry until about three years ago—yep, lots of rumors about that, but no, I never thought he was gay.

“I only see him socially, usually at one of his endless stream of fundraisers. Everything’s political with Thomas, and I don’t want to punch him in the nose in front of his new wife, plus he’s up there, nearly seventy, I think. Since he knows I’m not about to back any of the candidates he’s pushing, we’ve had this longstanding agreement—no political harangues and no requests for money from me, except for charities we both support.

“I haven’t met his wife, Charlotte. I did hear she was from money, back East, Boston, maybe, but don’t quote me. Just an impression. Would you like me to invite them to dinner, Savich? Maybe get to know Charlotte Pallack a bit?”

“Another question first, sir. Does Evelyn know them?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask her in about five minutes—at the breakfast table.”

“Thank you, and please give her my best. I’ll have MAX check Charlotte Pallack myself, see if MAX can’t find out exactly who she is and what she was doing before she married Thomas Pallack. Oh yes, please keep this confidential. Hey, maybe Dix Noble could dine with you and the Pallacks? Is that possible?”

“Excellent idea. That would put all his questions to rest immediately. I’ll call Thomas right now, see if he and Charlotte are free tonight or Saturday night. How’s that?”

“I think we’ll all owe you. Just a moment—” He asked Ruth, “When is Dix supposed to hit SFO?”

She said, “Around three o’clock this afternoon, their time.”

Savich said to Judge Sherlock, “I’ll call Dix when he arrives in San Francisco, tell him the plan.”

“Why don’t you tell him to come on over to the house? He can stay with us. That’ll make his presence at the dinner all the more natural. What do you think?”

“Thank you, Corman, great idea, and since Dix is a good friend of ours, it would be very nice for you to put him up.”

“Savich, did you hear about this attempted murder of Julia Ransom? Front page, mentions an FBI agent saving her bacon?”

“Well, yeah, some.”

“Yeah, you’re a damned clam. You running the whole show?”

Savich laughed. “Let me get Sherlock on the line. You two can chat for a minute and she can tell you about Sean’s latest computer games—Pajama Sam and Dragon Tales!’ He knew Sherlock would tell her father more about Sheriff Dixon Noble of Maestro, Virginia—she’d be excited they would meet. He cupped his hand over his cell and said to Ruth, “I’ll be right back.”

After he gave Sherlock his cell, he watched her face for a moment as she spoke to her father and heard the familiar warmth in her laugh. When he got back to his office, he said, “Ruth, you know as well as I do that when you’ve been married to someone, you’d know that person in an instant, no matter how much time has passed, no matter how much the person has changed her appearance. Dix will know tonight. This fast.” Savich snapped his fingers. “Right now, Ruth, there’s absolutely nothing more to be done. I want you to think about cheering Rob on to pitch a no-hitter against the Panthers, okay?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Yeah, okay, you’re right, but it’s hard, Dillon, really hard.”

“I can imagine.”

“If Rob pitches a no-hitter his brother might run away from home, he’ll be so disgusted at all the swaggering.” Her shoulders were straighter, Savich saw, as she left his office. She was striding again, long, no-nonsense steps—the Ruth walk—head up, and ready to kick butt.

All of a sudden there was a lot going on in San Francisco, he thought. Funny how many times a particular place became a nexus of things. Savich watched Sherlock walk back toward his office, punching off his cell. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about all this. He wondered if she’d admitted to her father that Sean had beaten her at Pajama Sam.