Bombshell Part 27

The lizard disappeared. Peter Biaggini snapped to, straightened and swallowed, one hand clenched into a fist. For the first time, he looked scared. "Wh-what?"

Scared now, Peter? Or do you not know anything about it?

Unfortunately, his protective father jumped in. Mr. Biaggini's face was red as he shouted at Sherlock, "What are you talking about? What do you mean my son and Stony were involved? Surely not that photo that ended up on YouTube-that's ridiculous. What sort of ploy is this?"

Sherlock said matter-of-factly, "Mr. Biaggini, we know the YouTube photo was posted from Stony's computer, and we know Peter has a lifelong habit of driving the bus for his friends, that if they don't do what he wants, he sets them straight. Stony told us about Peter's slashing Stony's mom's tires on her new Prius. How old were you then, Peter? Twelve? Do you happen to remember what order of yours Stony refused to carry out?"

Mr. Biaggini surged to his feet. "You will stop this now! Do you hear me, stop this or I will have my lawyers in here to stop it for you."

"I didn't slash his b.i.t.c.h mother's tires."

Sherlock kept her eyes locked on Peter Biaggini's face. "Sure you did, and you really enjoyed doing it. Tell us about the death photo you got Stony to upload."

"Sorry, I don't know anything about a photo. If Stony did that, I don't know anything about that, either. I've got to say, I'm surprised. Even though Stony's a computer whiz, he's a wuss; say boo to him and he withers like a weed. He never wanted to do anything that was the least bit risky. Until now. I can't believe he did that, and I can't believe he got caught, either."

Sherlock said, "Mr. Biaggini, you've seen the photo, haven't you?"

Mr. Biaggini said, "Even the rebels in Rwanda have seen that horrible photo, but it has nothing at all to do with my son. He has no reason to lie to you. Regardless, uploading such a thing on the Internet is despicable. Peter would not have been a part of it."

That was all he was going to say? Then Sherlock looked at his eyes; Biaggini didn't believe what he'd just said. He looked devastated, but not surprised, because he knew his son.

Peter shot his father a look of pure disgust, but underlying that look was something else entirely. Had he seen the look of doubt in his father's face? Had he seen the devastation that the recognition of that doubt had cost him? Did he care?

Peter's voice climbed an octave. "He's right, I told you the truth. Stony's a dodging little nothing. His only talent is the computer. He's a liar; he's always looking out for number one. That story about his mom's Prius, I mean, how lame is that?"

Sherlock smiled at Peter Biaggini. "Why do you think he would lie, Peter?"

Peter was nearly panting now, words spewing fast and hard. "I see now, you scared him so bad he had to make something up, and he did. No one would believe it for a second. I mean, about the only thing Stony does well is hack NASA. And he did it without any help from me. I never even saw Tommy's photo!"

"Peter-"

Peter didn't look at his father. He leaned forward, his eyes dark and hard. "You want a scapegoat and you don't have squat, so you singled me out. I don't know what Stony did or didn't do, but I do know he couldn't have uploaded Tommy's photo."

He flung himself back in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest.

Savich's eyebrow went up. "And why is that?"

"Stony doesn't make mistakes on computers. If he didn't want you to know he'd posted something, you'd have never found out about it."

Time to test the waters. Savich said, "Sorry, Peter, Stony did make a mistake, and we caught him with the help of the NSA. Even Stony can't deny Tommy's photo was posted from his computer."

Sherlock picked it up fast. "Why don't you tell us about what drove you to do this, Peter? What did Tommy do to you to make you hate him so much?"

August Biaggini roared to his feet again. He slammed his fist on the table. "You will stop this now! My son couldn't have done this, for the simple reason that it's monstrous. Sure, he was the leader of his group of friends, there always is one. Everyone knows that. Peter had no motive to kill Tommy Cronin. No motive!

"Listen, about Stony. I told you he always sought the easiest path and that's why he blames Peter, to save himself. What's perjury to him now? It's obvious Stony is the guilty one here."

"And what would his motive be, Mr. Biaggini?" Sherlock asked him.

"I don't know. I don't know of a single motive to attach to any of Tommy's friends. No, Peter, don't say anything more, you don't have to defend yourself any further."

Mr. Biaggini sat down, leaned over the table, his eyes locked on Savich's face. "The next time we see you, Agent, we're bringing a lawyer. We're leaving now."

Savich said, "So we're clear before you leave, if you choose to, Mr. Biaggini, we never said Stony accused Peter of any involvement in posting that photo. We raised that question with you. Stony denies any knowledge of the photo, just as Peter does."

"Then how can you accuse my son of these crimes? Of being a liar? You people should all be fired."

"You may not have deserved to hear that, sir, but we're trying to find a murderer. Now, we won't keep either of you from leaving, but if Peter is willing to stay and answer a few more questions, it will save both of you a great deal of time and trouble later."

"It's all right, Dad," Peter said, suddenly c.o.c.ky again. "I'll answer a few questions. What is it you want to know?" And he sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Do you know where Tommy was Friday night, Peter?"

"No. I hadn't seen him in a while. He was usually studying late, or sleeping."

"When did you last see him?"

"Nearly a week ago, maybe last Monday. We had some pizza, then he said he had to study, and we split up."

"Did you notice if he was disturbed about something? Did he mention anything he was involved with?"

"Sorry, Agent. Tommy seemed just fine to me. I told you, he was a serious go-getter since his father died, working hard at school, looking to fill his grandfather's shoes, I guess."

Savich said, "Now tell us where you were on Friday night, Peter."

Peter Biaggini raised his hand before his father could interrupt. He grinned, and Savich knew for sure that Peter had agreed to stay because he wanted to be asked that very question. He was preening now, no other word for it, and it wasn't a sham. He looked directly at Savich as he said, "I was at the Raleigh Gallery in Georgetown at a showing of modern American paintings, part of an a.s.signment for my art history cla.s.s.

"Oh, yeah, Tommy's former girlfriend, Melissa Ivy, was there with me." He smirked at them. "So much for Stony's photo. There's no way I could have taken a photo of Tommy dead. I wasn't anywhere close to the Lincoln Memorial Friday night."

"Where did you go after you left the gallery?" Sherlock asked.

"Mel and I went to her apartment and tangled the sheets all night. So I couldn't have killed Tommy. As for that stupid photo, who cares? No crime there anyway, now, is there?" He turned to his father. "See, Dad, no reason to get an ulcer. Can I leave now, Agents?"

Savich stood. "You may leave, but we will see you again soon."

As he walked to the door and opened it for them, Sherlock said, "Peter, don't leave Washington."

"I love Washington. Why would I leave?"

They heard Mr. Biaggini's harsh breathing as they walked again, and then his low, angry voice. "Why didn't you tell them right away where you were Friday night? Why drag this lunacy out?"

They heard Peter speak but couldn't make out his words.

They watched from the CAU doorway as Peter whistled his way along the wide corridor to the elevator. He turned right before he got on, and gave them a little finger wave. Mr. Biaggini followed behind him, his head down. He never looked at them.