Shot Through Velvet (36 page)

“I know Walt was kind of a wild card. He was spreading rumors to keep people on their toes, he told me. But he hadn’t actually let anyone go. In fact, Walt was specifically instructed by me and the board not to fire anyone. If we have to lose positions, we will start through attrition.”

He started today
. “Walter Pojack told me personally my job was on the chopping block. And I was overheard telling a friend all about him while I was at the funeral yesterday. When he called and insisted that I come to work today, I was afraid he wanted to get rid of me.”

“Walt called you? At home?” Claudia was aghast. “And you think that’s why he was killed? To punish him for threatening your job?”

God, I hope not
. “No, not for me specifically. And the killer might not have been looking for Walter Pojack.” Lacey took a deep breath. “When he came to
The Eye
, I think he might have expected to find someone else, Claudia. Like you.”

Claudia paused. “Yes, that crossed my mind.” Claudia sounded cool, but Lacey couldn’t believe she was as calm as she sounded.

“Instead, Walt got in the killer’s, or the Avenger’s way. It’s a possibility. At any rate, he left his calling card. The ribbon. You could be in danger, Claudia,” Lacey said, even though she still had nagging doubts in the back of her mind. But doubt was her business. “Did Congressman Flanders get a blue ribbon?”

“Yes. His staff said they found one in the mail. There was no note, so they thought nothing of it and tossed it, but they were able to retrieve it before the trash was picked up. That’s where I went today right after
The Eye
. Tazewell wanted to know if it was the same as mine. It was.”

“Then I’d say he’s a target too.”

“The worst possible time for his candidacy.” Claudia sighed. “What are the police doing about catching this guy?”

“The usual, I suppose. The killer has crossed state lines. Virginia state cops and D.C. cops don’t necessarily play nice together. And Black Martin is probably just pleased this killer has moved north.”

“It could also be a copycat,” Claudia said. “One of Tazewell’s enemies.”

“Maybe. Vic says if someone threatens a congressman, the FBI usually joins the party. But Claudia, you need some security of your own. At least until this is over.”

“Tazewell has an important fund-raiser Monday night. I plan to be there.
The Eye
might very well be endorsing him for governor. And Lacey, your job was never in danger. Your beat is far too popular. You sell papers. The public likes you. I like you. And I rely on you. So stay safe.”

Lacey felt a little dizzy. “Are you sorry Pojack is dead?”

There was a beat. “Let’s say I’m sorry his death is going to cause us so many problems. That’s for damn sure.” She told Lacey again to be careful and clicked off. Vic took the phone from her. Lacey rubbed her temples again. This time it wasn’t the piña colada. Trying to make these two murders fit together was making her head hurt.

Lacey moved their drinks off Aunt Mimi’s trunk, clicked the buckles open, and lifted the lid. Mimi’s bolero jacket pattern and the unfinished pieces of dark moss-green-and-gold shot velvet were still right on top. She handed Vic the largest piece of velvet.

“Isn’t it beautiful? This is some of that shot velvet I was telling you about.”

“I thought you said they called it shot through.”

“Either one, I think. Shot velvet is called that because in the weaving process, one color is ‘shot through’ the other. See how it changes colors, depending on the way you look at it? The light catches each color from different angles,” Lacey said. She turned the fabric this way and that, and they watched it change from gold to green and back again.

“Uh huh. Very pretty.” He sipped his drink. Fabric was not his métier. “Shot through velvet. Kind of like Rod Gibbs. The bullet went through Rod and the velvet.”

“Like these murders, Vic. Look at them one way and they seem to be all about revenge for lost jobs and a lost way of life. But look at the facts another way, and the motives for sending Gibbs to perdition are much more personal.”

“Right. A political angle and a personal one too.”

“The shot velvet uses two colors to make one fabric. What if the two motives are ‘shot through’ each other? The killer uses the so-called Velvet Avenger angle to cover his personal reasons for killing Rod Gibbs, and the personal motives to cover the political?”

“So was it basically personal or basically political?”

“Maybe both. Gibbs was a rotten guy,” Lacey said. “And people are angry about losing their jobs. Everything in Black Martin is personal. And everything in Washington is political. Maybe both kinds of motives are at work here. But are there two killers? Or just one?”

“You have a wonderful mind for complications,” Vic said.

“Claudia suggested a copycat killer.” Lacey picked up her drink and held it to her throbbing forehead. “Maybe some political enemy of Tazewell Flanders, the congressman who’s running for governor. And maybe the killer was looking for Claudia first. But they found Pojack instead, and so—”

“Slow down! You’re heading into Conspiracy Clearinghouse territory. Maybe you should let Damon handle this one.”

“That’s not funny. I’m going to be the one to write this story.”

“I have a great idea,” Vic said. “Let’s stop talking. Maybe the answers will come to us in a dream.”

“Or a nightmare.” Lacey wanted a deep, dreamless sleep. Vic started to massage Lacey’s neck and shoulders.

“There is a time for everything, Lacey,” he said in a voice soft as velvet, “and now is the time for you and me to stop talking about death. And start living.” The knots in her shoulders were easing under his strong hands. She felt all her anxiety beginning to slide away from her.
Better than Aunt Mimi’s trunk . . .

“Don’t stop. Sometimes you’re really smart, Vic Donovan.”

“You’re just figuring that out?” His hands slipped away from the back of her neck and his lips took their place.

Chapter 33

“Why do we have to stand at the back?” Vic asked Lacey.

“Because I’m a bad Catholic.”

He grinned at her and she turned away to keep from laughing. “I’m not a very good Catholic myself, but I don’t think God would prevent us from sitting until we can go to confession.”

“Okay, but we have to sit in the back.”

St. Luke’s in McLean, near Vic’s place, was more modern in architecture than Lacey’s usual church in Old Town. It featured an impressive figure of the risen Christ instead of a crucifix, and it had an open layout where every pew had a good view. Unfortunately, that meant others could see them too.

“Good grief!” Lacey turned her head quickly.

“What is it?” Vic looked around.

“It’s your parents.”

As if she’d heard Lacey talking, Nadine Donovan turned her head and caught sight of them. She nudged her husband, who also turned and winked at the sinners in the back of the church. Vic’s dad, Sean Donovan, had an expression of surprise and skepticism. Nadine waved for them to join her, but Lacey headed for the first open pew. She knelt and put her face in her hands to hide her embarrassment.

Vic knelt beside her and whispered, “We’ll never live this one down—getting caught together in church? Instead of in bed? What a scandal. This will cost you some Our Fathers.”

“Be quiet,” she whispered back. “I’m praying.”

“You can’t pray your way out of this one,” he said. “Oh the shame.”

“I can try.”

“You know we can’t sneak out early now. We’ll have to face the music. You temptress, dragging me into a church! What will we tell the children?”

Lacey ignored him and tried to concentrate on the sermon. It was a happy day for Nadine. She caught up with Lacey and Vic after the service and invited them to brunch.

“It would please your mother,” Sean said to Vic.

“Unfortunately, Dad, we’re about to take a short road trip.” Vic pulled out his keys and rattled them.

“A rain check, Nadine,” Lacey said.
What road trip?

“Does this have anything to do with blue bodies?” Nadine asked. “Or the body at
The Eye
?”

“We read the papers, son. There’s no use in fabricating,” Sean said. “Your mother always finds out whatever she wants to find out. And the stories are all over the Web. You have a most colorful job, young lady.” He winked at Lacey.

“We’ll be careful,” Vic said, as he whisked Lacey to the Jeep.

She waved good-bye. “Thank you.” Lacey leaned over and kissed him.

“What for?”

“For not telling your mother I’m staying at your house. Near their house. And that’s why we’re in their church together. You know. I don’t want her leaping to the wrong conclusion. Or possibly the right conclusion. Oh, you know what I mean.”

“I won’t have to. She’ll find out. You heard my dad.”

Lacey ignored him pointedly. “So what was all that about a road trip? I thought we were going to brunch.” Lacey buckled her seat belt.

“We can get brunch in Black Martin.” Vic put the Jeep in gear and waited for traffic before pulling out of the lot. “I’m not sure the local cops and the Virginia state troopers and D.C. homicide are going to pull this case together soon enough. There’s too much bureaucracy. Too many motives. Not enough facts.”

“Not to mention a lot of strutting around and territory marking. Guy stuff.”

“That too. You want to go to Black Martin with me? Without traffic, we can probably make it in a couple of hours.”

“Try and stop me, darling. I can’t believe you want to get us more involved. But I’m game.” Lacey thought of the many times he had tried to divert her from a dangerous story.

“That’s actually the last thing I want, but we may be able to point them in the right direction before anyone else dies. You think the next targets on this nut job’s list are Claudia and the congressman?”

“Yes. Blue velvet ribbons. The Velvet A was after Claudia yesterday, and Pojack just got in the way. I’m sure of it. About ninety percent sure. I’m hardly ever one hundred percent sure. So tell me, how are we going to help the police?”

“Delicately,” Vic said.

Lacey laughed. “Maybe we can tie it up with a big velvet bow.”

“The cops aren’t stupid, sweetheart. They just look that way sometimes. They act that way too. But they have too much to do, and all of these jurisdictions—local, state, and the District, and heaven help us, possibly the Feds. None of them like each other much. They don’t want to be told what to do, and they each have to think it’s all their own idea.”

“Just like you did when you were a cop?” He
grrrr-
ed at her. “So why do you want to help them?” she asked.

“Keeping you in one piece and in the pink and out of blue velvet is reason enough for me.”

“Suits me fine.” She smiled to herself. She felt like she had passed some invisible test, for Vic to include her willingly in an open murder investigation.

They picked up road-trip supplies and headed for I-95 South. She popped in a CD that Vic said he had compiled for her, titled
Songs in the Key of Blue
. It started off with “Blue” by LeAnn Rimes. It made Lacey laugh.

“When did you have time to do this?” she asked.

“Hey, men can be multitaskers too.” Vic began a rundown of exactly what they knew. “Who heard you talk about Pojack at the funeral?”

“The usual suspects. Sykes and his band of DeadFed-heads.”

“Jealous of Conspiracy Clearinghouse? Damon’s fans are even wackier than yours.”

“He can have them,” she said. “You know. Dirk Sykes, Blythe Harrington, Hank Richards, Tom Nicholson, Kira Evans, and Inez Garcia. Same group we met at Dominion Velvet.”

“What about Armstrong, the local cop?”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear me talking about Pojack. After his argument with Caine, he went straight to Honey Gibbs’s side and stayed there, even while I was talking with her. He wouldn’t leave her alone long enough to take a road trip to Washington to bump off Pojack.” The next song was Chris Isaak’s “Forever Blue.”
Oh this is perfect!

“What do you think of the merry widow Honey Gibbs as a suspect?”

“Why would she kill Pojack? She had no reason to kill anyone except Rod. And one woman alone probably couldn’t drag Rod around and attach him to that spool,” Lacey said. “But what if there are two killers?”

“One woman could have a partner. Honey Gibbs and Armstrong, for example. Could also be two women,” Vic pointed out. “But we have another possible scenario. One person kills Rod with his own gun. For personal motives. Someone else likes the idea. Hears the Velvet Avenger theory. Kills Pojack with a different gun, for different motives. And uses the velvet ribbons to make a false connection. Blue ribbon equals red herring. We’re looking for someone with a motive to kill Gibbs, but maybe Pojack’s killer had no such motive. And might or might not be the same killer.”

Lacey thought of Claudia. There was still that nagging doubt. “So Pojack’s killer might have put the ribbon in Rod’s casket, not Rod’s killer? Why would a killer with a motive against Pojack be in Black Martin?”

“Unknown. It still brings us back to Black Martin.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Now let’s come up with some idea of who to talk to by the time we arrive.”

“There’s time,” Lacey said, checking the exit signs on the highway. “We haven’t even hit Fredericksburg yet.”

“What about Sykes? He came up with the Velvet Avenger theory.”

They both knew Sykes’s enthusiasm seemed to be fueled by reading Conspiracy Clearinghouse. For all the man’s bluster, he struck Lacey and Vic as a guy with a big imagination and more enthusiasm than follow-through. When it came to action, Lacey thought, Sykes would just as soon go fishing. Or fish on the Internet. Vic offered another name.

“Blythe Harrington. She’s hotheaded. She’s really angry about losing her job. She threw a pair of scissors at the corpse.” He lifted one dark eyebrow. “That’s suggestive.”