over the hood of Agent Sherlock’s car on Tuesday. Of course you know it was Ms. Palumbo who caused the accident. We believe Ms. Palumbo spotted Cummings, and was trying to catch him, which means, of course, that’s why the accident happened. Chasing him distracted her and she struck Agent Sherlock’s car.
“As for Eleanor Corbitt, she appears to have specifically targeted Justice Cummings. She came on to him, invited him for coffee after work, but she never showed up. She even used a false name—Christy Blake. And now she’s dead, murdered. You know both of these women, Ms. Bexholt. Tell us what they were doing.”
Nikki sat back down, giving her time to think. Even after Jasmine had warned her about their sudden attacks, she had still underestimated these two. Jasmine had screwed up big time, true enough, but Nikki had believed there’d be no connection made. How had they found out about Ellie setting up Cummings? And using that fake name, the name of her married sister? Inviting him for coffee? Not showing up? Evidently Cummings had told someone and that someone had told the FBI. But who had Cummings told? Get it together, they’re fishing, nothing more. She managed a concerned expression. “It does seem like a coincidence, as you say, and to me as well, Agents, but I believe that’s all it is—a coincidence. I can’t imagine why Eleanor Corbitt would even be at Langley, much less want to go out with a CIA employee, namely Justice Cummings. I mean, she didn’t even like men. I can’t imagine who would tell you such a thing. And Ms. Palumbo wanting to chase him down? That makes no sense to me.” Shut up, shut up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
Gotcha. Savich hadn’t said a word about Langley.
Sherlock said, “Do you believe Eleanor Corbitt was gay, Ms. Bexholt?”
She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, defensive, but she managed to look at them dead-on. “I really don’t know about her sexual preferences, nor do I listen to office gossip. I remember she mentioned once her ex-husband was a worthless jerk and he’d burned her out on men. It was simply my impression she didn’t date. Other than that, I don’t know.” She shrugged.
Sherlock continued, “What if I were to tell you that it was Justice Cummings himself who told us Eleanor Corbitt—Christy Blake—was the woman he was supposed to meet at the Blaze Café?”
Nikki felt her heart seize, then laughed. “So you’ve watched old Perry Mason shows. I remember my dad laughing, saying the ‘what if’ lure was exactly what Mason said to witnesses to trip them up. Sorry, Agent Sherlock. No one even knows if this man is still alive—” She realized what had popped out of her mouth and froze.
Another slip. Savich smiled at her. “So you know Cummings worked at Langley and he was CIA, and you know he’s missing. That’s a lot that you know, Ms. Bexholt.”
“I am blessed to know people who tell me things.”
“Give us names, Ms. Bexholt,” Sherlock said.
Nikki shook her head. “No.”
Savich picked it up. “I can also assume you knew Eleanor Corbitt lied to Justice Cummings, told him she worked in personnel services at Langley. We know she set him up. And you do as well, don’t you, Ms. Bexholt? Did you plan it?”
Savich rose, laid his palms on her desk, leaned over, and said, his voice deep and steady, “You have all the money, you’re the one who wanted Cummings kidnapped. Tell us why.”
She grabbed her landline and dialed three digits. “I want to speak to Mr. Phelps. What? He’s gone home? Very well,” and she forced herself not to slam down the phone. She cleared her throat. “Bart Phelps is one of Bexholt’s in-house counsels. I will have him call you on Monday. Now, Agents, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”
Savich straightened, looked down at her, and said, his voice hard as nails, “When Mr. Phelps calls us, Ms. Bexholt, do have him tell us why you wanted Justice Cummings taken. And how Jasmine Palumbo and Eleanor Corbitt were involved. Is your father also involved? Your brother?”
Nikki roared to her feet, so angry, so afraid, she was shaking with it. “This is an outrage. I want you both out of my office now. Get out!”
Neither Savich nor Sherlock said anything more, simply turned and walked out the door. Savich was smiling when they rode the elevator down to the lobby. “That went