"Right now? On a Saturday night?" Saxon raised blond, furry eyebrows. "Pretty girl like you, you must have somewhere you have to be."
Actually, no. "I've been upset over Morty, so I've been doing some digging on my own."
Saxon's eyes narrowed. "You're an AUSA, right?"
"Yes, and I was an ADA before that. I've been an acronym for a long time." Vicki was trying to lighten his sudden bad mood, but it wasn't working.
"What do you mean, digging on your own?"
"Just asking some questions and-"
"You have no business doing that." Saxon frowned. "We sent your description of the doers to every ATF office in the country. That's where you end and we take over. We'll find those scumbags."
"Does that mean ATF will be in charge of the investigation?"
"Why do you want to know?" Saxon's features flattened to a bureaucratic mask, and Vicki shrugged.
"Because I care. About Morty."
"ATF cares about Morty, too." Saxon laughed without mirth, his manner growing unfriendlier by the minute, and Vicki sighed. What had she said wrong? Or did this guy just need more carbs?
"I didn't say you didn't. It's just that I found out some things today that are related to his murder."
"What things?"
"That's what I came to tell you." It wasn't the way Vicki had expected this conversation to go, but at least he wasn't pointing a gun at her. She began the story in chronological order. "I guess you heard about the murder this morning of Arissa Bristow." "Bristow?" Saxon frowned. "How do I know that name?"
"It was on the TV news."
"What's that have to do with Morty?"
"Arissa Bristow was the mother of my defendant in the straw purchase case, the one that Morty and I went to see the CI about. The CI was named Shayla Jackson."
"Jackson, I remember. But Bristow? When was she killed?"
"This morning, it was on TV," Vicki repeated. "Didn't Chief Bale call you, or someone from Philly Homicide?"
"No. What happened?" Saxon leaned across his desk, and Vicki filled him in about Mrs. Bristow, Reheema, and Cater Street, and finally Aspinall Street and Jamal Browning. She gave him a copy of her notes from her purse, which she took him through in detail. His eyes widened as she spoke, and he took notes on the same legal pad as his shopping list. When she was finished, he leaned back in his chair and set down his pen, deep in thought.
"I think Mrs. Bristow's murder is related to Morty's, and the drug traffic to all of it." Vicki was thinking out loud again. "A loose end is that guy who has my cell phone. He has to know something. I figure this is more than enough for a Title III tap on the cell, don't you?"
"This concerns me," Saxon said, but he wasn't speaking directly to Vicki anymore. His gaze strayed to the windows, but the blinds were drawn. Still he kept looking in that direction, maybe by habit. He seemed to have forgotten that she was even there. "I'm not happy I wasn't told about this situation."
"I'm not, either." Vicki sensed this would be the falling-through-the-cracks part. The jurisdictional turf war. These agencies would have to talk to one another if they wanted to catch Morty's killers. "Who has jurisdiction in the investigation, as you see it? I know ATF will want to follow up because of Morty, but as a legal matter, I think Philly Homicide should-"
"I'm not going to discuss that with you."
Vicki blinked. "I thought we were discussing it."
"No, we weren't. Relations between ATF and other federal agencies on a specific case isn't appropriate for us to discuss."
Vicki felt slapped down. He didn't mind discussing the case when she was the one giving information. "I guess that will be decided at the meeting on Wednesday."
Saxon lifted an eyebrow. "How do you know about that meeting?"
"I've kept it completely confidential, of course."
"That's not the point. How do you know?"
Vicki paused. She didn't want to rat on Detective Melvin. The plastic Jesus doll stared at her. Behind Jesus was John Saxon. For a minute she didn't know what to say.
"Allegretti," Saxon said sternly, "you're way out of line, what you've been doing. Going to Bristow's house, surveilling Cater Street, following a suspect to Aspinall. You're not a professional, and this is dangerous work. You shouldn't be taking any part of an investigation on yourself."
"I didn't intend to, I was just following up when I went to see Reheema."
"You shouldn't have done that, either. It's better left to law enforcement."
Vicki was getting a little sick of hearing that. "I am law enforcement."
"You're a lawyer."
"I'm an AUSA and it's my partner who got killed."
"A loose cannon is what you are," Saxon said, as if it were an official pronouncement, and Vicki finally got mad.
"You know, if I hadn't made any progress, you'd have a point." Suddenly, the emotion, pain, and exhaustion she had been suppressing for two days caught up with her, and Vicki rose to her feet. "But I don't need this. All I know is that Morty's dead, and I'm the one driving around after the bad guys. So excuse me if I don't knuckle under."
"You're way outta line, kid." Saxon rose behind his desk and pointed a thick finger at her. "Does Bale know what you've been up to?"
But Vicki was too angry to answer. She turned her back on him and headed for the door.
"Don't you walk out on me, Allegretti! Answer my question! Does your boss know what you've been doing?"
"Tell you what." Vicki turned on her heel at the threshold. "You go food shopping, and I'll let you know when I get my next lead, okay?"
And she walked out before he could shoot.
When Vicki got home, she took an even greater risk than surveilling a drug dealer or questioning the masculinity of an ATF chief-she called her parents. She wanted to explain about Detective Melvin's call. She pressed in the number and took a fifty-fifty chance that the parent she actually liked would answer. After two rings, her mother picked up. Yes!
"Mom? Did Detective Melvin call you yet, from Homicide?"
"Goodness, yes, we just hung up," her mother said, alarmed. "What is going on? Are you okay, dear?"
"I'm fine."
"Thank God! Did you actually need an alibi?"
"No, not really."
"Your father's at the gym. I'm beside myself. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. My wallet was stolen last night by a crack addict, who was killed last night."
"But you were here last night, and you didn't tell us anything about this."
And I'm still not. "We kind of had a fight, remember?" Vicki felt a tug. "I'm sorry I upset you, Mom."
"I'm sorry, too, dear." Her mother's tone softened.
"And for the record, I don't live like a pauper."
Her mother sighed. "You know your father."
"Uh, yeah."
"Maybe I won't mention to him that the detective called."
"Thanks." Vicki felt touched. "I have to go now, Mom. Don't worry too much."
"Just be careful."
"I will. Bye. Love you."
"Love you, too. Good-bye."
Vicki hung up, ignoring the knot in her chest. She thought about calling Dan but she didn't want to cause more trouble for him. She felt a little disconnected from the world. Without Morty. Without Dan. And after Saxon called Bale, without a career.
Vicki considered it. The smart thing to do was call Bale and preempt Saxon, but she'd get fired for sure. She turned it over in her mind, but her brain kept skidding on the ice. She was too tired to think. She needed to eat something and she needed a good night's sleep.
And only after that would she know what to do next.
TWENTY-THREE
Vicki woke up in the morning to a distinctive sound of winter: the sc-c-c-crape, sc-c-c-crape, sc-c-c-crape of a neighbor shoveling his sidewalk. She groaned and checked her bedside clock.
10:49. Late. She felt a wave of guilt. She'd have to get up andshovel her sidewalk so she didn't get sued. Growing up with both parents as lawyers, Vicki had been indoctrinated to shovel before the dreaded underlayer of ice wreaked havoc with the American system of civil liability.