Page 93 of Alex Cross Must Die

“Actually, we do,” said Marple. “As these attorneys can tell you, documents obtained by private investigators in anticipation of litigation are covered by work-product privilege.” Marple looked intently at one of the young lawyers, who lowered his eyes nervously toward the floor. “Do I have that right, Counselor? I’m citingCostabile versus County of Westchester.”

“So you were hired by an attorney?” asked Rollins.

“A judge, actually, with an active law license,” said Marple, “someone who prefers to keep his interest in this case anonymous for the moment.”

“Let’s see how that argument holds up once we revokeyourlicenses,” said Rollins.

“On what grounds?” asked Marple. “According to section 79 of the General Business Law as it applies to revocations or suspensions, there are only five possible justifications. You’ll need to be quite specific.”

Boolin turned to his lawyers. All three were now scrolling urgently on their phones.

Marple picked up again. “Also, according to paragraph 1, subsection 5, Mr. Mayor, you are required to give us notice in writing of any intention to revoke or suspend, and allow us fifteen days to prepare our rebuttal.”

Marple could see Rollins’s lips curling in fury. “By then,” she said, “I expect we’ll be dealing with your successor. Unless, of course, you think Huntley Bain would rather spend ten years in Wallkill than flip on you.”

Rollins turned on the commissioner, cold steel in his voice. “Tell me something, Boolin. How does Nancy Drew here know more about this crap than you do?”

“I’ll fix this,” Boolin said gruffly.

“You’ve fixed enough,” Rollins said curtly. “You’re fired.”

Marple looked at Grey. “In that case, Detective Grey, my partners and I decline to make a citizen’s arrest of the former commissioner for false imprisonment. Let’s just call it a misunderstanding.”

“As long as we get our guns back,” said Poe.

“And my purse,” said Marple.

“And a ride home,” added Holmes.

Boolin took a step forward, hands clenched into fists. For a second, Marple thought he might actually take a swing at somebody. Even her.

“Don’t make it worse, Boolin,” Rollins called out. “You could lose your pension.”

The mayor led the way out of the room, kicking the door open with his foot. Boolin turned on his heel and followed, trailed by the attorneys. The slamming door echoed through the empty space. Marple let out a long breath.

“Margaret,” said Holmes, “that was remarkable.”

Poe put his arm around her shoulders. “My hero.”

Helene Grey stepped forward and looked Marple in the eye. “How in God’s name were you prepared for all that?”

Marple looked right back, her voice even and calm. “I watch a lot of television. I have a photographic memory. I was first in my law school class.” She lifted her eyebrows and flashed an enigmatic smile. “Two truths and a lie.”

CHAPTER 108

“NICHOLAS! LOOK OVERthere! Did you see the heron?”

Macy Dale and her eight-year-old son were kayaking the quiet waters of the Croton River. They were about a quarter mile upstream from the rental site on the banks of the Hudson, about forty miles north of Manhattan. The air on the river was cool and refreshing, well worth the trip from the city.

Nicholas sat in the front seat of the cockpit, paddling energetically, while Macy handled steering from the rear. They’d set out from New York at 6 a.m. to beat the crowds. It had worked. So far, they hadn’t seen anybody else on the water.

That didn’t mean they were alone. The river and its banks were brimming with life. The blue-grey heron was wading in the shallows, turning its long neck to groom its feathers. They’d also seen red-tailed hawks, Canada geese, and a pair of ospreys.

As they steered around the edge of a small midstream island, Nicholas pointed excitedly toward the bank. “Look, Mom! Wild turkeys!” Sure enough. Macy steered the red kayak toward the gathering of huge black-feathered birds at the edge of the island. They were perched on a dead log half submerged at the shoreline.

“They’re sougly!” Nicholas called back. He splashed water toward the flock with his paddle, but the birds weren’t bothered. They were too busy poking and pecking at their breakfast.

“Nicholas, stop!” said Macy. “Leave them alone.”

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