Dieffendorf gave him a sharp nod and walked back toward the suite. He turned in the doorway. "The Culovort papers are Schiffer Hartwin documents. If they surface, it will hardly be as easy as all that."
40
ERIN'S APARTMENT
Thursday evening
"Is Georgie asleep?"
Sherlock nodded to Savich, watching Erin as Bowie handed her two aspirins and a glass of water. After she'd taken the pills, Sherlock added, "I only read her two pages of Nancy Drew, and luckily, she was down and out." She turned to Erin and Bowie. "She said to give you both a kiss. If you like, I'll pass on that."
Sherlock sat down beside Dillon, and Bowie moved to join her. Erin realized she was sitting by herself, the three of them sitting opposite her, together, silent and waiting. She was in the dock. Confession time.
Sherlock said, "Georgie's asleep, the dishes are washed and put away, you've got aspirin on board. It's time, Erin. Tell us why you broke into Caskie Royal's office and printed the Culovort papers off his computer."
Bowie froze. Sherlock wondered if he'd guessed this was Erin's secret, but seeing him staring at Erin, shock clear on his face, obviously he hadn't.
Sherlock lightly laid her fingertips to his arm. "I can't let this go on any longer, Erin. Not only don't I want to see you killed, what you know is critical to our investigation."
Bowie stared down at Sherlock's fingers on his arm. Was she afraid he was going to start screaming at Erin? Maybe leap up and strangle her?
Bowie couldn't believe it, simply couldn't. "Yes," he said, his voice perfectly pleasant, "please tell us everything."
Erin didn't look at him. She knew she'd see his dawning sense of betrayal, and she couldn't bear it. Sherlock was right, there was too much on the line now to hold back any longer. She said, "Yes, it's past time. How long have you known I was the one who pulled off the break-in, Sherlock?"
"I wondered about your level of interest. I thought it was really over the top, your intensity, the way you were so very focused on every word we said. And the clincher was our witness, who described you perfectly."
Savich sat forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "You were friendly, Erin, you were charming, but you didn't act exactly right around the three of us, particularly Bowie."
"What do you mean? I acted weird around Bowie?"
"I didn't say weird," Savich said. "You just acted off. Bowie would have seen it for himself if he hadn't been so caught up in the investigation of Blauvelt's murder, and, naturally, his worry about his daughter.
"Of course I checked you out," Savich continued. "And that led me to your dad. You'd told us about his being a consultant to law enforcement for the last twenty years of his life, but not the nitty-gritty details like the specialized skills he taught-building security for the new millennium, situational and strategic planning-like what to do if you're caught somewhere you shouldn't be, whether behind enemy lines or in a CEO's office. Oh, yes, I should mention he was known to be able to pick any lock in the known universe. You were lucky there were thick bushes below that bathroom window to break your fall."
Sherlock said, "I bet you learned everything from him, including lock picking. Time to get it all out, Erin. Tell us all of it."
Bowie remained silent. Erin wanted to punch him, make him say something, anything. "I don't want to go to jail, Sherlock. Am I going to need a lawyer?"
Bowie said, his voice too calm, too controlled, "I'm going to see to it you have the greenest public defender in Connecticut."
"I'll just say it would be a good idea for you to cooperate," Savich said. "I assume that you didn't kill Helmut Blauvelt? That you don't know anything about his murder?"
"No, I only heard about his murder on TV the next morning."
"Then there are the Culovort papers, Erin. Who is your client?"
Erin got to her feet and walked to her fireplace, removed the brick and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "You already know all of this, Dillon, you homed in on the Culovort shortage on your own. These are simply Caskie Royal's detailed plans for shutting down the supply from the plant in Missouri. He couched it as a profitable upgrade, but again, I think you might have nailed it. There wasn't much money in it for him unless he colluded with Laboratoires Ancondor in France for a share of their profits when cancer patients were forced to switch to their expensive oral drug, Eloxium.
"I don't know how he was paid, he doesn't talk about that in the papers, but maybe stock options, maybe some under-the-table kickbacks paid outright to Royal by the CEO of Ancondor when the huge bucks started rolling in. I'm not all that smart when it comes to finances, but I suppose there have got to be more ways to make this work for him.