this possibility and have assembled a small group of agents to look into this. We want to cover all bases. Now, all of you know what to do. Communicate any questions or suggestions you have directly to Agent Giusti.” He looked at each face. “It’s feet-to-the-coals time, people. Good luck and thank you.”
PLACKETT, VIRGINIA
Thursday morning
O n the drive from Richmond to Plackett, Sherlock took a call from the medical examiner who’d just completed the autopsy on Deputy Kane Lewis. Straight up, the knife to the chest had killed him. Also of note: Deputy Lewis had been a longtime drinker, and his cirrhosis was getting serious. He’d had a blood alcohol content of .25, enough to render him nearly unconscious when he’d been stabbed. “I doubt he felt a thing when the knife went in, so that’s something. No need to let this get out in town, though. His family doesn’t need to know.”
Families, particularly the wives, always knew , Sherlock thought. About other women, and certainly about too much booze.
Savich said, “You know Sheriff Watson will find out about Lewis’s being drunk. At least he wasn’t on the job.
“Sparky Carroll didn’t have anything in his system when he was murdered yesterday in the Rayburn Office Building. He had no defensive wounds, either. He knew his attacker, Walter Givens, but there were so many people in the hallway I doubt he saw him until it was too late.
“Burt Hildebrand wasn’t a happy camper when Mr. Maitland turned over the Sparky Carroll investigation to us, but what with the Athame being the murder weapon and Walter Givens not remembering anything about it, I suspect he was also a little relieved.
“He took the chaplain with him to break the news to Sparky Carroll’s young widow, Tammy, yesterday afternoon. He said it was tough, she was a mess. He couldn’t interview her because her mother and her two sisters wouldn’t let him. None of the three, however, could believe Walter Givens had done this. They’d known Walter forever, he was a sweetie, the mother’s words, he fixed their cars and charged them peanuts.
“I think we’ll do better today,” Savich continued. “Tammy Carroll’s had some time to get herself together, to reflect on what it could mean that Walter Givens killed her husband with a witch’s ceremonial knife and has absolutely no memory of it.
“I texted pictures of the Dual Dragon Athame to Professor Hornsby at GW. You know him, he’s the theoretical physicist who’s also a practicing Wiccan—a Wicca expert, I’ve been told.”
“I met him once. He sort of stared at me, shook his head, didn’t say a word. He looks like Ichabod Crane.”
Savich laughed, flipped on his blinker, and smoothly passed an eighteen-wheeler. “You probably terrified him. He’s not known for his social abilities. In any case, he called me right back, told me the Dual Dragon Athame is unusual. It’s not medieval, despite all the ancient-looking elaborate carving on the handle and the dragon heads with the ruby eyes, which, he assured me, were real. He believes it was forged no more than a hundred years ago, probably much less. It’s old enough, though, to be part of a generational collection belonging, most likely, to a Wiccan family. He was appalled when I told him it had been stabbed into a man’s heart.
“He assured me that for Wiccans the Athame isn’t a weapon, isn’t even used to cut up herbs. It’s only used for ritual purposes. He laughed because he said he was clumsy and told me he made sure his knife blade was dull. He showed me photos of Athames. Most are very plain, black handle, unadorned, many made of stone, the key being to keep the material natural. Most have a four-inch blade. All Athames are straight, double-edged blades. The length of the blade of this Dual Dragon Athame is seven inches.
“Hornsby told me a Wiccan’s Athame is his most important tool, that it’s tied intimately to its owner’s energy.”
“What does that
PLACKETT, VIRGINIA
Thursday morning
O n the drive from Richmond to Plackett, Sherlock took a call from the medical examiner who’d just completed the autopsy on Deputy Kane Lewis. Straight up, the knife to the chest had killed him. Also of note: Deputy Lewis had been a longtime drinker, and his cirrhosis was getting serious. He’d had a blood alcohol content of .25, enough to render him nearly unconscious when he’d been stabbed. “I doubt he felt a thing when the knife went in, so that’s something. No need to let this get out in town, though. His family doesn’t need to know.”
Families, particularly the wives, always knew , Sherlock thought. About other women, and certainly about too much booze.
Savich said, “You know Sheriff Watson will find out about Lewis’s being drunk. At least he wasn’t on the job.
“Sparky Carroll didn’t have anything in his system when he was murdered yesterday in the Rayburn Office Building. He had no defensive wounds, either. He knew his attacker, Walter Givens, but there were so many people in the hallway I doubt he saw him until it was too late.
“Burt Hildebrand wasn’t a happy camper when Mr. Maitland turned over the Sparky Carroll investigation to us, but what with the Athame being the murder weapon and Walter Givens not remembering anything about it, I suspect he was also a little relieved.
“He took the chaplain with him to break the news to Sparky Carroll’s young widow, Tammy, yesterday afternoon. He said it was tough, she was a mess. He couldn’t interview her because her mother and her two sisters wouldn’t let him. None of the three, however, could believe Walter Givens had done this. They’d known Walter forever, he was a sweetie, the mother’s words, he fixed their cars and charged them peanuts.
“I think we’ll do better today,” Savich continued. “Tammy Carroll’s had some time to get herself together, to reflect on what it could mean that Walter Givens killed her husband with a witch’s ceremonial knife and has absolutely no memory of it.
“I texted pictures of the Dual Dragon Athame to Professor Hornsby at GW. You know him, he’s the theoretical physicist who’s also a practicing Wiccan—a Wicca expert, I’ve been told.”
“I met him once. He sort of stared at me, shook his head, didn’t say a word. He looks like Ichabod Crane.”
Savich laughed, flipped on his blinker, and smoothly passed an eighteen-wheeler. “You probably terrified him. He’s not known for his social abilities. In any case, he called me right back, told me the Dual Dragon Athame is unusual. It’s not medieval, despite all the ancient-looking elaborate carving on the handle and the dragon heads with the ruby eyes, which, he assured me, were real. He believes it was forged no more than a hundred years ago, probably much less. It’s old enough, though, to be part of a generational collection belonging, most likely, to a Wiccan family. He was appalled when I told him it had been stabbed into a man’s heart.
“He assured me that for Wiccans the Athame isn’t a weapon, isn’t even used to cut up herbs. It’s only used for ritual purposes. He laughed because he said he was clumsy and told me he made sure his knife blade was dull. He showed me photos of Athames. Most are very plain, black handle, unadorned, many made of stone, the key being to keep the material natural. Most have a four-inch blade. All Athames are straight, double-edged blades. The length of the blade of this Dual Dragon Athame is seven inches.
“Hornsby told me a Wiccan’s Athame is his most important tool, that it’s tied intimately to its owner’s energy.”
“What does that
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