Page 66 of Alex Cross Must Die

“Brendan.”

“Yourfullname.”

“Holmes. Brendan Mark Holmes.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“On a very expensive Persian carpet.”

“Do you know what happened to you?”

Holmes was looking up at a woman in blue. His senses were mostly numb, but he could make out the tactical medic patch on her sleeve. Three other faces were leaning over him, coming slowly into focus. Poe. Marple. Grey.

“I appear to have overmedicated,” said Holmes.

Holmes felt the medic detach the BP cuff from his arm. She was now talking to Grey. “He’s oriented times four, Detective Lieutenant. We can run him in for observation, but he’s probably fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Holmes said firmly.

“Your call,” said the medic, leaning into his face. She nodded toward Marple. “You should thank your friend here. She saved your life.”

Holmes blinked. His senses were muted. Faces and figures were blurry. He watched as the medic stuffed the BP cuff back into her kit and headed off toward the foyer. Grey followed her. He was alone in the living room with Marple and Poe.

Marple leaned down and stared him in the face. He could see her features clearly now. Her jaw was set and her eyes were steely. She reached into his jacket and removed his pistol.

“Sorry, Margaret,” Holmes whispered. “I owe you. Again.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” said Marple, slipping the gun into her bag. “Unless I kill you first.”

CHAPTER 72

AS MARPLE STALKEDoff toward the foyer, Poe helped Holmes to his feet.

“How long was I gone?” asked Holmes.

“Four minutes, thirty-two seconds,” said Poe. “A new record.”

As Holmes looked around, he could see that the search was winding down. The only energy seemed to be from the cadaver dog, who was sniffing his way around the dining room baseboards.

“Did they find anything?” asked Holmes. “Anything at all?”

Poe shook his head. “No drugs. No weapons. No bodies. No brothers.”

“What about the basement?” Holmes asked.

“Wine cellar, just like the plans said.”

“There’s something here. I canfeelit,” said Holmes.

He was still a bit unsteady as he walked through a cluster of cops and into the enormous kitchen. It was a complete gourmet setup. Viking range. Pricey espresso machine. The refrigerator was the size of a self-contained pantry, with heavy brass latches. Holmes ran hishand over the wood-paneled front as Marple came in from the dining room.

She walked right past him.

When he looked across the room, Poe was locked in a tense discussion with Helene Grey on the far side of the enormous kitchen. He was sure they were talking about him. Marple was opening cupboards one at a time and poking through the contents.

Holmes walked across the room and slumped against the kitchen island. Maybe the best thing he could do now was stay out of the way. Shut up. Not make things worse.

The island was massive, with storage cabinets underneath and a thick slab of richly veined marble on top. A basket of oranges sat in the middle.

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