Venus grinned when Sherlock told her how beautiful she looked, patted her arm, and said, “A little face work does wonders, my dear, wonders. Give it some thought in fifty or so years.” She was flanked by Savich, Sherlock, and Veronica now. They paused outside Vincent Willig’s room while Savich showed Officer Lane Gregson his creds. “Anyone come around?”
“No, Agent Savich. All quiet. Well, a lot of complaining from Willig when he’s awake. Makes me feel good to hear it.”
Savich grinned. “Keep an eye out, Lane. He’s certainly not up to try an escape, but you know the guy who hired him might come by to silence him.”
Officer Gregson patted the Beretta on his hip. “I’ll be ready for him, Agent.”
They saw Willig was alone, no nurses, no techs, no doctors. He seemed to be asleep, an IV line tethered to his left wrist, his breathing slow and even.
Venus said, “Looks like he’s down and out. I thought you only shot him in the wrist and broke his arm.”
Savich said, “The surgery on his wrist was more complicated than they thought going in. The bullet nicked an artery. And now he’s developed an infection. He’ll be here for another couple of days.”
Venus said, “As old as I am, the truth is I haven’t had many dealings with anyone like this man, Dillon. I do hope he doesn’t try to throttle me.”
“You could take him, easy.”
Venus grinned, showing lovely white teeth, her own, Savich knew. She did look well south of eighty, fit and healthy. “I know you don’t approve of my coming here, but I appreciate your being here with me.”
They both knew the truth was he’d hardly had a choice, except maybe to bar her physically, something he didn’t much want to do. It was one of the perks of being Venus.
Savich looked back at Veronica, who stood a couple of steps behind them, ready to leap forward to protect Venus, all her attention focused on Willig. She’d told Savich she wished Venus hadn’t insisted on seeing Willig, but like him, she hadn’t made any headway with Venus.
Savich said, “I’ll go in and get his attention, Venus, then ask you to come in. Veronica, stick close to her.”
Venus touched her hand to Veronica’s arm to keep her silent. “Dillon, I’m the one he tried to kill; I’m the one who should get him to pry his eyes open.” Without any hesitating, Venus strode into the sterile hospital room with its single bed and single nightstand, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor.
Savich watched Vincent Willig slowly open his eyes as Venus walked brisk and confident toward him. He saw Savich behind her and flinched. Good, Savich thought, he remembered, knew Savich could cause him a load of pain.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Willig’s voice was low and scratchy and filled with mean.
“And good day to you, too, Mr. Willig. I’m the person you tried to murder yesterday, but of course you know that.”
“Why would I want to kill an ancient old broad like you? You look nearly ready to topple over without any help from me. I didn’t try to murder anybody yesterday. You’re thinking of somebody else. What are you doing here?”
Venus stepped close and stared down at him. “I was hoping you’re not completely brainless.”
“I’m not brainless, you old bat.”
“Of course you are. You couldn’t even manage to kill someone who’s twice your age. From reading about you, I know you’ve never done anything worthwhile in your miserable life. You’ve got no morals, no center. Offer you a buck and you’ll happily do whatever is asked.”
“You’re three times my age, at least. Hey, I see you’re not alone. You’re kind of pretty, you back there. You the old bag’s granddaughter? Maybe you can come back later and we can have some tapioca together? No, I guess not, given that frown on your face. And you’ve brought those FBI guys with you, too. He’s the one who tried to kill me, him and that broad with all the red hair. What, is he afraid I’ll wrap my IV lines around your scrawny neck?”
“My neck is in fine shape, Mr. Willig, so maybe that means your eyesight isn’t good, either, like the rest of you. As for your attacking me? What a joke—you can’t even pee on your own.”
Willig looked ready to spit. He looked from Venus to Savich. “I was thinking you brought the old broad in here to soften me up. Well, all she’s done is insult me.”
“I brought her because she insisted. She wants to make you an offer.”
“That’s right,” Venus said. “Listen, Mr. Willig, I’m not here to trade insults with you but to show you that you’re clearly on the wrong side. If indeed you are not brainless, you know the FBI will find out who paid you, with or without your help. You also know your telling us would speed things along. To that end I am willing to use my influence with the prosecutor, urge him to lessen the charges against you for what you tried to do to me, and I will pay you a great deal of money if you give us the name of the person who hired you. We want that name right now, Mr. Willig.”
Venus paused a moment, leaned down. “I will pay you ten thousand dollars if you give me the name of the person who hired you to kill me.”
“Ten big ones? You gotta be kidding me. That’s nothing to you, you’re richer than Rockefeller and maybe even richer than that Russian guy who doesn’t wear a shirt. How about a mil?”
“Pay attention, Mr. Willig. You’re not worth a million dollars. I’ll give you a hundred thousand, not a penny more. It should be more than enough to pay off your lawyer.”
Willig wheezed out a laugh. “A hundred grand for a name? All right, I’ll give you the name—it was you, you crazy old bat, you hired me to make all those lazy relatives of yours sit up and take notice. Are you going to pay me now?”
“Very amusing, you idiot,” Venus leaned down and smacked his face. Willig moaned, tried to raise his hand to shove her away, but the IV line held him down.
“You hit me again I’ll have you arrested.”
Willig’s lawyer, Big Mort Kendrick, came roaring into the room—exactly on time. Savich smiled. It had taken only one well-timed phone call. He’d looked forward to Big Mort making a grand entrance, yelling, threatening, and bless his heart, here he was. Mort yelled, “Lady, I saw you hit him! You can’t do that. That’s physical torture. I’ll sue you from here to Sunday. You’ll be a bag lady before I’m through with you!”