Hello, Columbus

Chapter One - Friday

The phone on Gibbs's desk rang at 1:30 on a Friday afternoon. The other members of his team looked up alertly from their desks, almost holding their breaths. They were not on call this weekend; they would not be happy to catch a new case right now that would require working the weekend.

"Gibbs!" the man barked into the phone. Almost immediately, though, his expression changed to one of happy delight.

"Well, hi, sweety," he said.

His team looked at each other with wonderment. Sweety? From Gibbs?

Gibbs listened to the voice on the other end of the line while his expression gradually returned to grim anger.

"I'll be there shortly," he said, hanging up the phone and grabbing his bag. As he loped toward the elevator, he threw an "I'll be back" at his now dumbfounded team.

At three, the team looked up when the elevator chimed. Gibbs had returned, but he was accompanied by a very young woman, whom he led to DiNozzo's desk.

"Um, Tony, I have a favor to ask of you," he said, somewhat hesitantly.

If the team had been dumbfounded before, by now they were absolutely amazed—Gibbs calling him Tony instead of DiNozzo, asking him for a favor, and sounding uncertain.

DiNozzo blinked once and replied, "Sure, boss, what is it?"

Gibbs hemmed a bit before asking, "Do you have plans for the weekend?"

"Uh, well, yeah, I do, but nothing I can't cancel," Tony replied. "What's up?"

Gibbs gestured toward the girl at his side, who was regarding DiNozzo solemnly. "This is my goddaughter Lauren. We just got word her father was murdered back in Columbus. I want to go do what I can to help, and I figured since you went to OSU…."

"I could birddog for you?" DiNozzo finished.

"Yeah," said Gibbs.

Tony was already shutting down his computer and picking up both his backpack and a small bag from one of his desk drawers.

"I've got an overnight bag packed and ready to go in the trunk of my car," Tony told Gibbs.

"Good." replied Gibbs with an audible sigh of relief. "We have to get on a plane within the next hour. I'll brief you on the way."

Tony hastened to follow his boss and the goddaughter no one had known about toward the elevator, but he spared a moment to turn to his thunder-struck teammates and wish them a good weekend.

With Tony's bag stowed in the trunk of Gibbs' car, they set out for the airport, and Gibbs began briefing Tony.

"Lauren just graduated from high school. She's been in town for the last few days, interviewing for summer intern positions."

Tony twisted around to look at Lauren in the back seat. "Where did you apply?" he asked.

"Department of Agriculture," she told him. At his puzzled look, she explained, "I'm really interested in plant biology."

"Oh. Good field," he said, not having the slightest clue about it. He turned back to Gibbs.

"Lauren's mother, Neva, called her this morning. Neva and Bob Bullard and I have been friends for years. Bob and I were in basic together. He was already dating Neva. Once he got through basic, they got married, and when Lauren was born, they asked me to be her godfather.

"Anyway, someone called Bob last night around eight. He left right after that, but he never came home. This morning a dog walker saw his car parked near the river with him sitting in it, and when they came back the same way he was still sitting there, so they called the police. He was shot through the open car window at about five paces' distance."

"What kind of work did he do?" Tony wanted to know.

"He was an insurance agent," Gibbs answered. It was apparent to Tony that Gibbs was trying to be detached and professional about the case, but his composure was slipping, even if ever so slightly. This man had obviously meant a great deal to him. In the back seat, Lauren had listened quietly, but tears were running freely down her face.

"Did he have any known enemies?" Tony asked Gibbs.

"Lauren?" Gibbs said in response.

"As far as I know, everybody liked daddy," the young woman replied.

During the flight to Ohio, the two men sat on either side of Lauren. Gibbs had his arm around her, doing what little he could to console her while her tears continued to flow. While Tony flipped through the in-flight magazine, he watched the pair out of the corner of his eye. He saw both concern and anguish in Gibbs's attitude, and he thought he understood what the older man would have been like if he'd had children of his own.

When the plane landed in Columbus, DiNozzo discovered Gibbs had already reserved a rental car. "The family's going to be busy enough; they don't have to spend time chauffeuring us around," Gibbs explained, and Tony had to agree.

Leaving the airport, Tony pointed the car west into the now setting sun. Lauren had given him her home address, which he recognized because it was near the University. Traffic had lightened since the evening rush hour, and they made good time. Pulling up in front of the Bullard home, Tony saw a substantial two-story house painted white with dark green trim. The house was framed by a lush green lawn fringed with cheerfully colorful flower beds. A huge maple tree sported a tire swing, and bicycles littered the front walk. A basketball hoop was mounted above the garage door. It looked like a well lived-in family residence.

Even before Tony turned off the ignition, the front door opened and three people pelted out. One was an older, shorter, and plumper version of Lauren, followed by two teen-aged boys. The woman flung herself into Gibbs' arms, crying "I'm so glad you're here." She shed a flurry of tears against Gibbs' chest as he held her and murmured, "I'm so sorry, Neva," and the two boys joined in a weepy group hug. When the tears subsided, Gibbs introduced Tony to them. Neva, of course, was the late Bob Bullard's wife and Lauren's mother, and the two boys were Eric, 16, and Lance, 13, Lauren's brothers. "Everybody, this is Tony DiNozzo, one of the agents I work with. He graduated from the University, so I brought him along to help me find my way around."

Gibbs had taken a step back, but his arms were still around the tearful widow. "Thank you so much for coming, Jethro," she said. "And thank you, too, Mr. DiNozzo."

"It's Tony, ma'am," he told her.

Gibbs said, "I couldn't not come."

Suddenly they heard someone scream "Jethro!" Looking at the house next door, they saw a very short, very plump woman running as fast as her legs could carry her toward them. As Mrs. Bullard had done, she fairly leaped into Gibbs's arms and burst into tears. Like a spring shower, though, the tears passed quickly. "It's so good to see you, Jethro," she declared, her face still wet.

"Mrs. Pellegrini, it's good to see you, too, although I wish it were under different circumstances," Gibbs replied.

This resulted in a brief return of the freshet of tears. During this outburst, Neva Bullard began explaining the logistics of their visit.

"I asked Rosa if she wouldn't mind putting you two up in her downstairs bedroom, and she said that's fine," Neva said. "A bunch of our relatives are going to be arriving any minute now, and our house is going to be full. And we've kind of organized a potluck supper for everyone."

Having let go of Gibbs, Rosa Pellegrini had moved to Neva's side and was absently patting her arm consolingly.

"And who is this with you?" Rosa asked Gibbs, looking admiringly at Tony.

"My senior field investigator, Tony DiNozzo."

"DiNozzo?" Rosa stepped up to Tony and pinched his cheek. "DiNozzo?" she said again. "Mr. DiNozzo, do you like lasagna?" she breathed seductively.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with an enthusiastic smile, "and please call me Tony."

"Tony," she told him, beaming, "it will be an honor to have you and Jethro Gibbs staying in my home."

Neva broke in. "Rosa, why don't you take Jethro and Tony over and get them settled in? By that time, the rest should be here, and we can finally have some dinner."

The bedroom that Rosa showed them into was small, and the two twin beds took up most of the space, but the room was neat and cheery. Once they had set their bags down, she showed them the bathroom across the hall. Then she bustled them down the hall to the kitchen.

"Piero, Piero, come see. It's Jethro Gibbs," she called.

There was a moment's pause, followed by the squeaking of the hinges on the screen door to the back porch. Piero Pellegrini turned out to be not much taller than his wife. He had a round head going bald on top and a fringe of black hair around the bald spot, and his upper lip was adorned with a huge handlebar moustache as if to compensate for the loss of hair elsewhere.

"Jethro Gibbs!" he declared, grasping the tall ex-Marine's head to plant a kiss on either cheek in the Italian manner. "Let me look at you."

Through all this, DiNozzo had watched almost with amazement. Gibbs, the tough ex-Marine, second B for bastard, had a huge grin on his face and seemed to be eating up the attention and affection these people were demonstrating toward him, and, even more surprising, he was returning it with evident sincerity.

When Gibbs introduced his younger associate, Tony too was embraced and kissed. "DiNozzo, eh?" Piero said. "A friend of Gibbs and a paisan'? What could be better? Welcome, welcome. We are honored."

Rosa reminded them that the Bullards were expecting them for dinner. They had smelled the unmistakable odor of home-made lasagna as they entered the house, and now they discussed who would have the responsibility of carrying the huge, steaming pan over to the Bullards. In the end Gibbs took charge of it, while Tony was assigned to carry napkins and other accessories for the feast. As they crossed the lawn, Piero scuttled alongside Gibbs, urging him not to trip.

It spite of that, somehow the trek was accomplished without mishap. The Bullard house by now was full of people, most of them congregating around the large dining room table, where the meal was laid out. Once relieved of his burden, Gibbs greeted many of them with the familiarity of prior acquaintance, and he and DiNozzo were introduced to those they didn't know. The atmosphere was sorrowful but still festive.

Neva Bullard clapped her hands and announced they should eat right away before the hot stuff got cold and the cold stuff got too warm. She said a brief grace and urged everyone to dig in.

Within minutes Tony found himself sitting on a sofa in the living room with a full plate and a glass of chianti at his side. Next to him on the other side was Lance Bullard, bolting down an astonishing quantity of lasagna and garlic bread. Close up the boy appeared to be on the sharp edge of onset of puberty. His skin was slightly splotchy, and his developing adam's apple bobbed up and down as he ate. He was still fairly short, his voice a childish tenor. Facial hair had yet to put in an appearance. DiNozzo didn't envy him the changes his body would be putting him through right at the same time he had lost his father.

Unaware of Tony's regard and slowing the pace of his chewing, Lance looked up at him.

"Are you a real fed, like Uncle Jethro?" he asked slightly breathlessly.

"Sure am."

"Do you have a badge?"

Tony spared a hand to hold open his jacket so the boy could see his badge.

"Wow!" he breathed. Again he looked up at DiNozzo. "And a gun?"

Tony pulled his jacket even further open.

Lance was silent for a long moment, during which Tony could almost see the next question forming in his brain. "Have you ever shot anyone?"

With an inward sigh, Tony replied, "Yes, I have."

"Did the guy die?"

"Sometimes. But it's not a good thing to shoot someone unless you absolutely have to. It's not like TV or the movies."

"Right," Lance replied, scooping the last mouthfuls of lasagna into his mouth. Getting to his feet, he went in search of dessert, telling Tony as he went, "Wait till I tell the guys!"

Lauren suddenly appeared in front of Tony bearing a plate with a huge piece of chocolate cake. Handing it to him, she sat down on the cushion lately vacated by her little brother.

She was not conventionally pretty, but her face was animated with intelligence, which made her beautiful in a way. Her thick hair, cut short, was a rich shade somewhere between dark blond and light brown. Even wearing a t shirt and overalls, it was easy to see she had a voluptuous figure. Tony couldn't help thinking that, if he were younger, she would be a prize catch. He had a feeling, though, if he tried, he would catch something a little more lethal from a very protective Gibbs than a head slap.

She looked up at him solemnly, tears held in check for the moment but threatening to return. "Gibbs said when you've finished he wants to meet with you and mom on the back porch to talk over the…the case."

"All right," he answered, and putting down his plate and taking her hand in his, he continued, "I'm very sorry for your loss. And I promise we'll do everything we can to find out who's responsible for your father's death."

"I know you will," she answered sadly. "Dad always said Jethro was the best. And he brought you along to help, so I guess you must be the best, too. Uncle Jethro doesn't stand for anything less."

Tony retrieved his hand. "So, you're Gibbs's goddaughter?" he asked, curious about their relationship. "I suppose you've known him all your life."

"Oh, yes," she replied, "it seems like I've never not known him."

"Is he good to you?" Tony asked gently.

"He takes his responsibility very seriously," she responded with a slight smile. "The only thing I can complain about is that he comes to visit us so rarely because he's always busy. But even when he can't come, he always remembers holidays and birthdays. And we try to talk at least once a month on the phone. He's such a good person."

"Yes," Tony said. "Yes, he is." Not for the first time, Tony found himself wondering what Gibbs had been like when he was young. Bob Bullard would have known, but he was no longer around to tell tales on Gibbs.

"How long was your dad a Marine?" Tony asked Lauren.

"Four years, and then he and mom moved around for a few years before they settled down here. And it was a while before they had me."

Standing up, she walked over to an upright piano in the corner of the room and retrieved one of several photographs that stood upon it. Returning to sit again next to Tony, she showed him the photograph. It was of four beaming adults, the one who was obviously Neva holding an infant in a long white gown and baby bonnet.

"That was taken at my christening," Lauren told him. "That's my dad," she said, pointing to the man who was not Gibbs. "And that's my godmother. She was mom's high school friend. She died a couple of years ago."

Tony studied the photograph, especially the much younger Gibbs he saw there, still in his Marine uniform. That broad, carefree smile was seldom seen these days.

While several other people took care of cleaning up, Gibbs, DiNozzo, and Mrs. Bullard sat in wicker chairs on the screened back porch. It was completely dark by now; the lights on the porch glowed yellow, fireflies skittered here and there through the back yard, and occasionally a bird chirped sleepily. Even in the low light, Neva's eyes were rimmed with red.

"What can you tell us, Neva?" Gibbs asked.

"There's not much more than what I told you over the phone," she said. "Bob got a call around eight last night. I wasn't really paying attention, so I didn't hear what he was talking about. After he hung up, he put on a jacket and told me he had to go out for a while. Very often his clients will call him when they've had a problem that might be covered by their insurance. I thought maybe it was something like that."

Tony asked, "Weren't you worried when he didn't come back?"

"Yes, a little bit. But occasionally it's happened in the past. Not very often, but it has happened. I figured if someone had had a serious accident or something like that, he'd be dealing with police or going into the office to make sure everything was in order."

Gibbs said, "So you didn't hear from him at all after he left?"

"No, not until this morning when a policeman came to the door to ask me to come with him to identify Bob…the…Bob's body." Up to this point, she had been calm. Now she covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly a couple of times. The two men stayed silent.

"It was horrible, Jethro," she told him, looking up again. "The…the bullet hit him right here." She pointed to her left temple. "There was blood all over the car. He fell against the steering wheel, and blood was running down onto his legs. He was facing away from the window, and someone had to pull his head back by the hair so I could look at his face."

Both Gibbs and DiNozzo had puzzled looks on their faces.

Gibbs asked, "Why didn't they wait to have you do the identification until after he was at the morgue?"

"I don't know," Neva answered. "Something about connecting the person to the car, I think."

Again, she put her head down, holding it in her hands. "Horrible, horrible, horrible," she repeated through her sobs.

Gibbs reached out to hold her hand. "There's probably not much we can do right now," he told her, "but first thing in the morning, DiNozzo and I will pay a call on the police department and see what we can find out about their investigation and if there's anything we can do to help them."

Her eyes holding an ocean of tears, she looked up at her friend. "Jethro, just having you here means so much. If you can help find out who did this, it will be wonderful, but in the meantime, just…just thank you for coming."

"How could I not come?" he repeated. "You and Bob are among my oldest friends. I helped him buy your engagement ring."

"You were a groomsman at our wedding," she continued, smiling slightly through her tears at the memory. "The handsomest man there after Bob."

"I never would have survived after Shannon and Kelly were killed if it hadn't been for you two," Gibbs added. "I owe you for that."

"So many memories," Neva sighed. She and Gibbs fell silent again for a long moment.

Gibbs spoke first. "Neva, I know you're not going to sleep much tonight, but if I were you, I'd go to bed and at least make an effort."

"I will," she promised. "I'll make sure the kids are settled down, and everybody else, and then I'll try."

After saying goodnight to Neva Bullard, the two agents walked across to the Pellegrini house. They had almost made it to their bedroom when Rosa Pellegrini pounced.

"I have cheesecake," she said in a come-hither voice.

Both protested that they were already well-stuffed but promised they would try the cheesecake the following day. Escaping her admiring attention, Gibbs and DiNozzo closed the door of the bedroom.

Tony couldn't stand it anymore. Even though he expected that Gibbs's response would be a curt "mind your own business," he had to ask.

"Shannon and Kelly?"

"My first wife and our daughter. They were murdered by a perp as revenge against me."

"Oh." Tony considered this surprising revelation for a minute.

"What happened to the perp?" he asked, pressing his luck a little more.

"Dead."

Before Tony could ask more, Gibbs pulled down the covers on his bed and crawled beneath them, leaving it to Tony's imagination to fill in the gaps in the story.

"Good night, DiNozzo," he said with finality.

"Good night, boss," Tony said, repressing a small sigh, and got into his own bed.

Chapter Two - Saturday

The following morning, freshly groomed, Gibbs and DiNozzo made their way at an early hour back to the Bullard residence, which now gave forth the odors of coffee and bacon. Again, the house was full of a variety of people, some of them the relatives who had shared dinner the previous evening and some anxious and grieving friends and neighbors stopping by to pay their respects. As Gibbs and DiNozzo tucked away their substantial meal, they fended off questions, explaining that until they talked to the local police department, they had no information on the investigation into Bob Bullard's death.

Finally, full of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast, and strong coffee, they made their escape.

"Man, I'm going to have to keep running in the mornings if we stay here any longer," Tony commented. "I can't remember the last time I had such a big breakfast."

"Hope it isn't clogging your brain," Gibbs replied drily.

"No, not so far," Tony answered with a slight grin. "Any ideas come to mind about the case?"

"Nothing so far. You?"

Tony considered for a moment. "Mrs. Bullard may have been right to think he was dealing with a client. We'll need some information on his client list if the locals haven't already done that."

Gibbs said, "His partner's name is Jake Jacobs. They started the business together years ago, and as far as I know, they've always gotten along together pretty well, but we'll have to check that as well. I have a hunch the locals will probably consider him a prime suspect."

Tony commented, "I know my dad belonged to a lot of different civic groups. He said he got his best business from his contacts at Kiwanis."

Yeah," Gibbs replied. "Bob was pretty active in groups like that. Another thing to check."

As they headed to police headquarters on Marconi Boulevard, Gibbs noticed a traffic sign.

"The Scioto River," he pointed out. "I've always wondered if Abby knows about that."

"Hadn't thought about that," DiNozzo replied with a grin. "I'll tell her about it when we get back."

Gibbs had called the Columbus Police Department even before they left Washington. He had spoken to the chief about his desire to help find the murderer of his friend. The chief had himself been a friend of Bob Bullard's; he understood Gibbs's need and told him that as long as they had the proper credentials, Gibbs and his associate would be welcomed.

Upon their arrival, they presented their credentials and were escorted to the office of Chief Otis Quander.

"NCIS Special Agent Jethro Gibbs," Gibbs said by way of introduction. "And my senior field investigator, Tony DiNozzo."

"DiNozzo?" repeated the chief. "Any relation to the DiNozzo who sank a thirty foot buzzer beater in the last game of, let's see, the ninety-one season?"

"That would be me," Tony replied with an air of pride and pleasure at being remembered.

The chief turned to Gibbs. "One of the best damned college basketball games I've ever seen."

He turned back to DiNozzo. "You were voted conference MVP that year, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Tony said.

"I was a second-stringer at my school, but…. Well, it's an honor to meet you. I'm a big fan of OSU basketball, but I don't get many chances to meet the players. Unless we arrest them for something, of course." He paused. "So now you're an NCIS agent, are you?"

"Yes, sir. I always wanted to be a cop."

Gibbs watched with amusement at the easy way Tony was interacting with the older man, bonding as only members of the jockocracy can. He reflected that, although he had known that Tony was a successful athlete in both prep school and college, he hadn't really thought about how important this could be in a person's adult life. He knew instinctively that they would have an easier time participating in this investigation because of Tony's sports credentials, never mind that that had no real bearing on his abilities as a cop.

Gibbs let the conversation between his agent and the chief ramble on a couple of minutes more and then broke in. "Chief, I want to know why your guys made Neva Bullard go to the scene to identify her husband."

"They did?" Chief Quander said with surprise. "That's not standard procedure."

"She said the uniform that picked her up pulled Bob's head back by the hair so she could get a good look at his face."

"Geez! That's awful!" the chief exclaimed. "Why don't you guys go on over to the squad room. You're looking for Detective Anne Wojcewski. In the meantime, I'm gonna find out about this."

They found Detective Anne Wojcewski with her two subordinates, Mary Conway and Jess Widstrom, who were expecting them. Wojcewski led the party to a conference room, where she had laid out the documents collected so far in the case. Noting with satisfaction that the room had its own coffee machine, Gibbs helped himself to a cup, and they settled down to work

Wojcewski was a middle-aged woman of medium height with thick, grey-sprinkled brown hair cut in a no-nonsense bob. Her figure was stocky but looked firm. She wore a grey pantsuit with a plain white blouse under the jacket. Conway was younger with a mass of obviously dyed blonde hair and a somewhat coarse face. Gibbs noticed DiNozzo eye her speculatively for a moment, but then she gestured with her left hand, which bore a huge set of diamonds on the fourth finger. Widstrom was a huge, Nordic-looking man with shaggy blonde hair and eyes even bluer than Gibbs. The three detectives and the two federal agents studied each other intently for a moment.

"What do you know?" Wojcewski asked, shuffling and organizing the papers before her.

"Right now," Gibbs answered, "we only know the basics of the case. We aren't here to interfere in your case, but Bob Bullard was one of my oldest friends, and I feel obligated to him and his family to help in any way I can."

"And what about you, special agent DiNozzo?" Wojcewski inquired.

"Basically, I'm here with him," DiNozzo said, gesturing toward Gibbs.

Gibbs cut in. "DiNozzo is a graduate of OSU, so he knows the area. Plus he's an experienced police detective from before he joined NCIS, just about the best I've ever worked with."

DiNozzo grinned his thanks at his boss.

"Well," Wojcewski commented, "we like to think we have a pretty good department here, but no way am I going to refuse expert assistance if it's offered. Although I assume you're ready to take our lead?"

"Absolutely," Gibbs assured her.

For the next couple of hours Wojcewski and her team shared with the NCIS agents the evidence that had been collected to far. Because the telephone call to Bob Bullard had come in on the family's land line, they had so far been unable to trace it. The bullet that killed Bullard had gone clean through his skull, leaving a large, ragged exit wound, and shattering the passenger door window. Wojcewski had ordered a grid search of the area past the car, but the spent bullet had not yet been found, nor was any shell casing found.

"I suppose it's possible the perp policed both the casing and the bullet," Detective Wojcewski commented with a grimace.

"Either that, or the bullet ricocheted off in an odd direction," offered DiNozzo.

The medical examiner had not completed the autopsy. Gross examination of the victim's skull did not reveal any information about the bullet except its probable path—entry into the left temple and exit through the right side of the head, slightly lower than the entry wound, indicating the shooter had been standing at the time. A minute examination of the brain tissue was pending, in case the bullet might have left traces or fragments behind.

Conway and Widstrom had spent a substantial portion of the previous afternoon at the offices occupied by Bullard-Jacobs Insurance.

"They have four employees, all of whom have been there for ten years or more," Conway reported. "They're preparing a list of all the office's clients, along with information on policies, benefits, and so on. They're supposed to have a print-out ready by this afternoon."

"Good," Gibbs said. "What about Jake Jacobs? Did he and Bob get along? Any reason to consider him a suspect?"

"As far as we know, they got along like brothers," Conway answered. "He's really shaken up. He was in shock when he found out about Bob yesterday. He was going to close the office for several days, but we persuaded him he needed to stay there with his staff while we investigate, even if they don't do any business."

Wojcewski interjected, "We haven't eliminated him as a possible suspect, but it doesn't seem likely."

"I've known him ever since he and Bill opened the office, and they did seem to like each other and get along together pretty well," Gibbs told them. "I tend to agree he's not the best suspect, but I think you're right not to eliminate him yet."

"Does he have any ideas about any clients who might have a grudge against Bob?" Tony asked.

"Nope," answered Widstrom. "All we hear is that Bob Bullard was a great guy, universally well-liked."

"Well," Gibbs said, "that's kind of the guy I knew. But nobody goes through life without making an enemy here or there. We're just going to have to dig a little deeper. I can sure talk to his family, although right now they're saying the same thing. ‘Everybody liked him; he didn't have any enemies.'"

"What about the staff?" Tony interjected. "Any possible suspects there?"

"Well, like I said," Conway said, "they've all been there for years. They're all women, middle-aged and married, each one of them. Although you never know."

"I know," Gibbs said tersely. "Bob Bullard was not the kind of guy to fool around."

The other four looked down without comment, silently echoing Conway's thought that you never know.

Tony broke the silence. "Gibbs and I talked about his non-business contacts; maybe someone there had a grudge against him for some reason. Do you know what groups he belonged to?"

Widstrom picked up a computer disc from the pile of documents on the table. "We had one of the staff pull his contact list off his computer," he told them. "The list is meticulous. He made notes of exactly where and how he met each person, and his staff said he updated it almost daily. But there's over 2,000 names on the list, which is why we've asked for a separate list of his clients. We haven't really started contacting any of them."

Gibbs looked at DiNozzo, who got the hint. "If you can give me a phone, that's probably something I can start doing."

"How about later?" Wojcewski suggested. "I thought we could run down to the vehicle compound and check in on the forensic exam of his car. And then we can go out to the scene for you to have a look there."

As they entered the vehicle lab, DiNozzo had to smile at the sight of two forensic specialists working on Bob Bullard's car in their bright orange jump suits. Grinning broadly, he said to the Columbus people, "I'll bet our lab person is cuter than yours." This earned him a grin from Gibbs, and a chorus of "Oh, yeahs?" from Wojcewski and her team.

The senior lab tech, whose name seemed to be Clint and who was most definitely not goth, stopped his examination long enough to let Wojcewski know that all he and his associate had found were shards of glass from the broken window. There was nothing else special about the car. They were in the process of dusting the entire vehicle for prints in the probably forlorn hope that the murderer had touched it.

For the trip to the murder scene, the Columbus people took their own sedan, while Tony drove himself and Gibbs in their rented car. From the markers still at the site, it appeared that Bullard's car had been parked at the curb in front of some sort of industrial building set back from the street about 10 yards. There was no fence, just a graveled yard between the street and the outside wall of the building.

Yellow tape marked off the area, and colored chalk outlined the position the car had occupied. Two black-and-white squad cars were parked nearby, their uniformed occupants still working the grid search pattern, looking for the fatal bullet.

After Wojcewski introduced the NCIS agents, the entire group stood together to discuss the scene. DiNozzo was looking around, trying to make sense of the position of the various elements. He left the group, walking over to the façade of the building. Sighting from the position of Bob Bullard's car, he examined one section of the wall carefully. "Aha!" he shouted suddenly.

Calling over the rest of the group, he pointed out a dent in the wall. "Probably the impact point of the bullet. Looks like there's a little blood in there."

"But it should have fallen straight down," protested one of the uniforms. "We swept all along the base of the wall, and we didn't find it."

"It ricocheted off at an angle," Wojcewski speculated.

"But…" the uniform continued to protest.

Gibbs added, "If it sustained damage going through the victim's skull and the car window, it probably had an irregular shape when it hit the wall, and if it impacted on one of the irregular sides…."

Tony again had wandered off a little ways. Suddenly he bent down. "Here it is."

The Columbus officers looked at each other with surprise. "Does he always do that?" Conway asked.

"He's got 20/10 vision," Gibbs informed them with a touch of pride. "And I told you, he's one of the best investigators you'll ever meet."

One of the uniforms put down a marker while the other photographed the bullet. Then they carefully bagged it and handed it over to Wojcewski. Tony had put on gloves and was scraping fragments from the indentation in the wall into another bag.

"Find any tire tracks or footprints in the street?" Gibbs asked.

Wojcewski answered. "We took everything to the lab. We can check it all out when we go back and hand in the bullet."

Conway glanced at her watch. "It's getting on for noon. What say we take a break, and then go back to the office?"

Neither Gibbs nor DiNozzo was very hungry after the breakfast they'd had, but they agreed to join the others. They wound up at a diner that DiNozzo remembered from his student days. On their way there, he warned Gibbs, "It's a real greasy spoon, but they used to have home-made soup."

While the Columbus group chowed down on enormous hamburgers with fries, Gibbs and DiNozzo had large bowls of made-from-scratch vegetable soup that came with chunks of freshly baked bread. After they finished eating, the group exchanged war stories for a while before heading back to work.

Once in the office again, Wojcewski provided both of the NCIS officers with desks and phones. After printing out the list of Bob Bullard's contacts, they began the work of calling as many people on the list as possible.

The list was organized in a couple of different ways. In one arrangement, every contact was listed alphabetically. Another form of the list showed all the people who belonged in categories such as vendors, clients, members of civic organizations, members of church committees, etc. Gibbs began calling vendors; Tony called members of organizations. The first listing under organizations was the Columbus Development Council Advisory Board.

Calling the first name on the list, Tony found himself talking to one Rietta Chase.

"Yeah," she said in a southern drawl, "I know Bob—well, I knew him. I saw on the news last night someone murdered him."

"That's why I'm calling, ma'am," Tony told her. "I'm trying to get any information I can that might help us find out who killed him. So if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"You just ask away, mister," Ms. Chase said. "I liked Bob, unlike some other folks on the advisory board."

"What do you mean by that?" Tony asked.

"That there Development Council don't mean a thing," she replied. "Neither does the Advisory Board. But some of us agreed to serve on it because we thought we might be able to change some things."

"What kinds of things?"

"Now don't get me wrong," Ms. Chase answered. "Columbus is, generally speaking, a mighty fine city, but there's areas that could stand some improvement. It's s'posed to be the job of the Development Council to improve the community, and the Advisory Board is s'posed to identify problem areas that can be improved. But there's too many folk on the Council and the Board that's just in it for they own selves, ya know what I mean?"

"I guess so," Tony replied cautiously, not really understanding exactly what Rietta Chase meant.

"See, we still got a lotta residential areas in town that are what you call blighted," she explained. "Some of us, like Bob and me, wanted to put together some plans for fixing up those areas so's folks don't lose their homes. But some a the muckety-mucks on the council think we should just destroy those areas and put up shopping malls ‘n' stuff, ya know what I mean?"

Tony understood that. "And the residents would be moved out without any other place to go."

"You got that right, honey."

"And some people would stand to benefit financially from building shopping malls and stuff?"

Ms. Chase snorted. "Lotsa contractors on the council."

"Do you think someone might have, well, taken the disagreement to a higher level?" Tony asked Rietta.

"Wouldn't surprise me none," she responded.

"Could you tell me who the people were who opposed you and Bob?"

"Be easier for me to tell you who didn't."

Checking off the names Rietta gave him against the printout of Bullard's contact list, within five minutes Tony had the names of people who had stood with Bob Bullard. Six out of a total of twenty.

He continued calling names on the list. His next call was to a fellow named Dale, one of those Rietta said agreed with her and Bob. Dale not only confirmed Rietta's comments, but named two of the opposing people who he thought might be capable of murdering someone who disagreed with them. DiNozzo marked those names with second checks, but mused that with the disagreements among the members of the board, Dale might just be getting a little personal vengeance.

Gibbs meanwhile had quickly worked his way through the names of various vendors Bullard had dealt with in his business. All expressed the same thoughts: shock that he was murdered, sorrow that he was dead, and praise for his qualities as a man.

Wojcewski had received a fax of the separate client list from the insurance office. With a sigh Gibbs picked up it in one hand and the phone in the other.

At three o'clock Chief Quander appeared in the squad room to get an update on the case. The group again met in the conference room. Wojcewski projected on screen the lab report on the bullet and a magnified photo of the bullet itself. It had been deformed in its passage through Bullard's skull and the car window. It also had been hand molded of pure lead, no jacket. It was difficult to determine its caliber because of the deformation, but the lab thought it was a .357.

"Magnum," murmured the detectives in unison.

The bullet and the scrapings from the indentation it had caused in the wall of the building were coated with fragments of blood and brain tissue that, on gross examination, matched those of Bob Bullard, confirming that it was the fatal projectile.

The day before, as part of processing the scene, Widstrom had lifted prints of tire tracks and shoe soles near Bullard's car. The lab identified the shoes as size 10s of a common national brand of cross-trainers. The tire tracks were a somewhat less common brand, often used as original equipment on heavy, European cars.

The autopsy report indicated Bob had been killed at about 9:30 on Thursday evening, an hour and a half after he received the telephone call. Death had, of course, been instantaneous.

Chief Quander had found out that the officer who had called upon Neva Bullard the previous day was a rookie who became flustered from being involved in his first homicide investigation. "Apparently," the Chief said grimly, "he forgot his training, but he won't do that again and live to tell about it."

Tony told the group about his conversations with the members of the Advisory Board. As the Columbus detectives examined the list of its members, they focused on the same two names that Tony's informant Dale had mentioned.

Conway commented on Mike Malone. "He runs a restaurant out in Gehenna, near the airport. We're pretty sure he's heavy into prostitution. Hires girls as waitresses first, and then hires them out for sex."

"Not in our jurisdiction," the chief pointed out.

Gibbs asked, "How come he's on the Advisory Board? Isn't it limited to areas within the city?"

"No," Quander answered. "It covers the entire Metro area."

"So would Bob Bullard be into cleaning up prostitution?" Widstrom asked.

"Yeah, he would, so let's keep an eye on this Malone," suggested Gibbs.

Widstrom said, "Okay, next, Gus Kaikonia. He's been under suspicion for a long time. Even the FBI is interested in him."

"Why?" asked Gibbs.

Wojcewski continued. "He came to Columbus about twenty years ago. Started a little construction business that's grown and grown. He's bought out a lot of other construction companies, but we've heard stories that he strong arms companies into accepting his offers by threatening them. He also supposedly threatens his potential clients too, to get them to hire him, but his work isn't that great. Good enough to pass inspections, but not much more than that."

"And there are rumors that sometimes he bribes the inspectors," Quander added. "It's one of those situations, you know? We know he's a scumbag, but we can't ever get anything to hang on him."

Gibbs asked, "Any reason to believe he's killed anyone before now?"

"No," Widstrom replied. "Doesn't mean he hasn't; just means he's been real careful up to now."

"Plus, he's got a bunch a goons around him all the time," added the Chief. "They all look like ex-cons. Hell, we know some of ‘em are ex-cons."

There was a pause before DiNozzo stated, "Definitely another person of interest."

"Well," said the Chief, rising to his feet, "it's getting pretty late for a Saturday afternoon. Why don't you all go home for now? If you want to continue tomorrow, that'll be fine, but you're not required."

Gibbs and DiNozzo were grateful for the early dismissal, as they wanted to get back to the Bullard residence and check on developments there. As they pulled up in front of the house, they saw Lance shooting baskets with some other boys.

"Hey, Tony," Lance shouted. "Come play with us."

With a grin at Gibbs, Tony bounded out of the car and joined the group. With shouts of "Tony, over here" and "here, Tony," the young men raced to keep up with him. A number of adults, hearing the racket, emerged from the house to watch them play. Gibbs explained to them that Tony had been on the U's '91 championship team. Again, the question was asked, "He the DiNozzo that sank the buzzer beater?"

Gibbs found Neva standing on the porch, watching Tony and her sons play ball.

"Any news?" she asked, somewhat anxiously.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs shouted. "Front and center."

With a loping run from the end of the driveway, DiNozzo jumped up and slam-dunked the ball into the basket, receiving applause from the boys and the onlookers.

"Gotta go, boys," he told them, then trotted over to Gibbs.

"Let's go out in the backyard," Neva suggested.

Once there, the two agents told her about the investigation. Gibbs was relieved to be able to assure her that Bob had died immediately, that he didn't suffer at all. She covered her eyes with her hands and took a long, shuddering breath as Gibbs patted her shoulder.

When she looked up, she told them she'd had a call indicating that Bob's body would be released to the family early the next morning. "I've already made arrangements with a funeral home and at our church," she said. "Bob wanted to be cremated, so we aren't having a funeral. We're going to have visitation tomorrow from five to eight at the funeral home, and the memorial service is going to be Monday morning at eleven at our church."

Gibbs reported that Chief Quander had investigated the awkward and insensitive way she had been forced to identify her husband's body. "The guy was a rookie. He's been reprimanded. Although that doesn't take away the pain he caused."

DiNozzo had some questions for Neva. "Did your husband ever have business with anybody out in Gehenna? Any clients out there, or any colleagues?"

"No," Neva replied, "not that I know of?"

"He was a member of the Advisory Board of the Columbus Development Council. Do you know anything about that?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "He'd been on it for about two years. He got involved because he used to write policies for some of the homeowners in the area, and he saw how run down some of those properties were. And when he started investigating, he found out how hard it was for the residents who were trying to get things done, trying to improve their property. But the Development Council was standing in the way. So he said, ‘If you can't beat ‘em, join ‘em,' and he got himself appointed."

"Did he ever talk about the Advisory Board's work?" asked Tony.

"Not in detail," she answered, "but I know it was very frustrating for him. There were a few people that agreed with his hope to make the Development Council work to help the residents, but there were other people opposed to them. Mostly developers and contractors, I believe."

Gibbs and DiNozzo looked at each other, agreeing wordlessly that the Advisory Board most likely would provide the reason Bob had to die.

Neva was called into the kitchen then to supervise arrangements for the evening meal.

"Do you have a suit with you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"No," replied the younger agent. "I thought about calling Abs and having her go to my apartment to get one and then air express to me, but I think I'll just go shopping tomorrow. Wanna come with me?"

"Wish I had my dress blues," Gibbs said with his eyes on the ground. "Never even thought about it in the rush to leave D.C." He looked up at DiNozzo. "Yeah, I'll come with you.

Inside the house there was again a rabble of people, even more than the evening before, and all of them seemed to have brought dishes to share. Bowls of salad, steaming casseroles, and platters of vegetables and cold cuts covered the dining room table and several counters in the kitchen as well. There was an abundance of desserts as well. After Gibbs and DiNozzo had filled their plates, they found seats on the front porch, where they were joined by Lauren.

For several minutes the three of them ate in companionable silence. Gibbs asked Lauren, "So how did the interviews in Washington go?"

"Really well," she replied, using a chunk of home-made bread to wipe some baked beans from her plate.
"They offered me the internship I wanted. I'm going to be there for ten weeks."

"Well, I can tell you this, missy," Gibbs said in a mock stern voice. "You're going to be staying with me instead of in some cheap fleabag hotel."

Lauren giggled. "It wasn't a fleabag, Uncle Jethro. It was a Holiday Inn."

"Even so," he continued. "Seriously, sweetie, your dad would…" Jethro's voice caught ever so slightly before he went on. "Your dad would kill me if I didn't keep an eye on you for him."

"I know," the young woman replied, putting her hand on Gibbs's arm. "If you hadn't offered, I would have asked you if I could stay with you."

Tony piped up. "You can come over to NCIS, and I'll give you the guided tour."

"Not your job," Gibbs replied. "Mine."

Tony harrumphed in reply and asked, "So what does a plant biologist do?"

"There are lots of things to do, but I want to work on improving indigenous plants in places where famines occur. You know, it's not that there isn't enough food to feed everyone; it's a matter of distribution. If you can improve native plants so you don't have to import so much, you can improve diets, even in areas of chronic starvation."

"Are you going to go to the U?"

"Yeah, they have a really good agriculture program, with lots of research opportunities." She grinned with anticipatory pleasure.

In her turn, she asked DiNozzo about his time as a student.

"A lot of people laugh when I tell ‘em I majored in Phys. Ed.," he told her, "but it's really a pretty rigorous subject. Lots of directions you can go, including teaching and coaching, physical therapy, stuff like that."

"Is it true you were a basketball hero?" she asked with an impish grin.

"It's true," Tony replied with a mock modest sigh and cast-down eyes.

"Helped win a championship and a MVP in his senior year," Gibbs commented.

Tony's spirit warmed as an expression of respect appeared on the young woman's face. In turn, in the few hours he had known her, he had come to respect her as well. She was poised and focused, gracious and good-hearted for such a youngster. Pretty much like her mother. No wonder Gibbs was so fond of these people.

After Lauren left them to help with clean up, Gibbs and DiNozzo laid their plans for the following day. They would go to police headquarters in the morning to continue working the case. At lunchtime they would hit the mall to do their shopping. In the afternoon, they planned to call on Gus Kaikonia. They agreed that their respective gut instincts pointed to him as the best suspect. However, they agreed it would be best not to inform the Columbus PD people about that until it was a fait accompli. Then they would join the Bullard family for the visiting hours.

"We probably won't get much done on Monday," Gibbs speculated.

"Are we still gonna be here on Monday, boss?" inquired DiNozzo.

"We're gonna stay as long as it takes. I better call Director Shepard tomorrow." He thought for a moment. "I think we both have personal time coming to us. It's short notice, but she'll just have to like it or lump it. She can assign McGee and David to other cases if any come in."

Rosa Pellegrini appeared on the porch, a broad smile on her face. "Are you boys ready for your cheesecake?"

"Sure, Rosa," Gibbs told her.

She left but returned within seconds, bearing two plates with huge pieces of cheesecake on each. Inwardly groaning, the guys began eating with Rosa standing close by with a hopeful expression on her face and wringing her hands ever so slightly.

"Mmmnnnphmmm," said Gibbs, immediately echoed by Tony. After swallowing, Gibbs said, "That is excellent cheesecake, Rosa."

"Yes, definitely," Tony said around a huge mouthful of the treat. "Excellent."

Mrs. Pellegrini's hands had stilled, and the expression on her face turned to one of delight. "Oh, I'm so glad you like it," she trilled. "There's lots more at home. Just help yourselves whenever you like." As she re-entered the house, Gibbs spoke to Tony. "0530 tomorrow?"

"Definitely," replied Tony, using the side of his fork to scrape up every last morsel of cheesecake.

Chapter Three – Sunday

At 5:30 the next morning both men rose and pulled on sweats and running shoes. After a brief warmup, they took off. Tony had run often through these streets, and he had a favorite route that he knew Gibbs would enjoy. The morning was fresh and cool, and, except for those who liked to go to worship early in the day, the streets were empty. Although Gibbs had come to Columbus fairly often to visit his friends, he had never seen the Ohio State University campus, so Tony toured him through it.

After 45 minutes both were feeling a little bit leaner and definitely invigorated. It had been a good run; they had chatted easily, exchanging probably more personal information and insights than they had in the five years Tony had been at NCIS. Gibbs had confided that, once he had determined to accompany Lauren back to Ohio, he had known instantly that he wanted Tony to come along. Tony was both surprised and flattered.

"For several reasons," Gibbs told him. "You can be one of the most annoying dipshits in the world at times, but you are one of the best investigators around, plus you have great people skills. I knew, of all the team, you'd fit in here the most easily. And then of course you are familiar with the place."

Gibbs had always given DiNozzo good performance reviews, guaranteeing his continued employment at NCIS, and those had always pleased the younger man. Somehow, though, the praise he received on this day meant more than anything anyone had ever said to him before. As they reached the Pellegrinis' house to shower, shave and dress, he thought to himself that this had been just about the best moment in his life.

By mutual agreement they had decided not to have breakfast at the Bullard house—too many people and too much food. Instead, they raided Rosa's kitchen, finding instant oatmeal in the cupboard, milk in the fridge, and bananas in a fruit bowl on the counter.

Refreshed, they set out once again for police headquarters. The squad room was not nearly as busy as it had been the day before. Anyone not working active cases would be taking the day off. Wojcewski was there, but neither Conway nor Widstrom would be in, she informed them. They took their seats at the desks they'd been assigned to and manned the phones again.

By now the news of Bob Bullard's murder had been widely circulated throughout the community; calls began coming in to the tip hotline. Most of these interviews were non-productive; most of the callers just wanted to feel like they were participating or being good citizens.

Tony was able to reach several more members of the Columbus Development Council's Advisory Board. As he had learned from Rietta Chase, the board was sharply divided as to what its mission should be, which was limiting its effectiveness. Those who had sided with Bullard felt that they were going to be steam-rollered into submission by the majority, who wanted to raze existing construction and build new stuff. They expressed a lot of bitterness about the murder, certain that it had been committed because of Bullard's involvement with the Advisory Board, and especially because he had been, if not the leader of their faction, at least one of the most vocal members of it. Several of Bullard's former colleagues expressed the opinion that what little zest they had had for the fight was now disappearing into a haze of unfocused fear for their own lives.

As for those on Gus Kaikonia's side, they mostly had perfunctorily nice things to say about Bullard, but also stated that they thought his position was neither practical nor beneficial to the city.

It began to seem to Tony more and more that Bob Bullard's death was the result of his being a member of the Advisory Board, that he, basically nothing more than a small (emphasis on the small) businessman, had made himself a target for the more powerful and greedy members of the Board. Tony mentioned this to Gibbs and Wojcewski. Gibbs especially was inclined to agree. Reviewing the list of board members, the three of them decided that they would need to conduct fairly extensive personal interviews with all of them, both those who were pro Bullard and those who were pro Krakonia.

Around 11:00 a.m. Tony was informed, to his surprise, that there was someone there to see him. He went to one of the interrogation rooms to find a tiny black woman with snow-white hair and huge Coke™ bottle glasses. She was dressed in what was obviously her Sunday-go-to-meeting outfit—a black silk dress and a wide-brimmed black straw hat decorated with brightly colored ribbons and bows.

She held out a hand sheathed in a white glove. "Agent DiNozzo?" she said with a broad smile full of gold teeth. "Ain't you just as pretty as you can be!"

Smiling but puzzled, DiNozzo shook her hand.

"Rietta Chase," she told him.

"Oh," he said, realizing who she was and shaking her hand with more cordiality. "What can I do for you?"

"Been thinkin' since we talked yesterday," she said, "and I remembered somethin' else so I sez to myself, ‘Rietta, just go on over to the police station tomorrow after church ‘n' see if you can talk to him face to face.' And here you are!" she finished triumphantly.

"Is there something special you want to tell me?" Tony inquired.

"Certainly is," she replied. "Don't know how I forgot about it before; it was pretty scary at the time."

Tony pulled out his PDA and prepared to take notes.

"Go on," he told her.

"Well, sir, we was havin' a meeting of the Board one evenin', and things was gettin' pretty hot and heavy. Bob was sayin' how, if we tear down all the old houses in this one block, we need to find housing for at least 60 people that're gonna be homeless. 'N' he said there ain't that many inexpensive places anywhere in town. ‘N' Gus Kaikonia, who makes a big show every year of giving money to the hospitals ‘n' such, sez those people can jist move somewhere else; it's not his problem. So Bob, he sez to Gus, all yer interested in is making money putting up those big crappy buildings of yers. Well, Gus, he goes all quiet all of a sudden, ‘n' he says ‘One o' these days, Bullard, somebody's gonna kill you ‘cause yer such a big pain in the ass, ‘n' it jist might be me.'"

Tony asked, "Did it sound like he was really making a threat, or was he just blowing smoke?"

"Sounded like a threat ta me," Rietta said. "We all know his reputation, which ain't so good. Nobody's ever pinned a murder on ‘im, but everybody knows"—she tapped a finger on her temple—"he's probably committed more than one." She nodded emphatically.

"Did anyone else hear him say that?"

"Oh, yeah, we was all twenty of us there. Everybody heard it."

Tony reviewed his notes briefly. "What about Mike Malone?" he asked Ms. Chase. "He was a part of Gus Kaikonia's group, too, wasn't he? Do you think…?"

Ms. Chase pursed her lips scornfully and shook her head, making the ribbons on her hat bob back and forth. "Oh, him. He ain't nuthin'. Jist this kind a greasy little guy. The real powerful guys like Gus Kaikonis don't have any truck with pimps like him."

"Couldn't he have been a threat to Bob?"

"Nobody paid any attention to him, not even Bob. Wouldn't worry ‘bout him if I was you."

Tony thought for minute. "At this point we don't have anything that would hold up in court," he told her. "But I'm making a note of this, and we'll check to see if the other board members remember Gus threatening Bob. It's information that may come in handy sooner or later."

Thanking Mrs. Chase for her help and cooperation, Tony showed her out and returned to Gibbs and Wojcewski with the news. They were not ready to dismiss Mike Malone entirely as a suspect, but they agreed that Ms. Chase's information strengthened the case against Kaikonis.

Gibbs and Tony left the office shortly before noon for the mall, stopping for a quick hot dog before heading to a men's store Tony had patronized often during his student days. "Not quite a tailor shop" was how Tony put it, "but definitely not K-Mart."

Tony immediately picked out a fashionably cut navy suit, which he matched with a crisp white shirt and a lusciously colored but subtle paisley tie. When he emerged from the fitting room, he saw that Gibbs was still pawing through the racks, showing definite signs of frustration.

"Here, let me look," Tony told him with amusement. Gibbs stood back while Tony pulled out a medium grey suit, which he held up against the older man. Then he picked a shirt striped in several shades of grey and a tie with regimental stripes of grey, cream, blue, and a sliver of red. Tony's amusement grew when Gibbs came out of the fitting room and everyone in the store stopped to look at the handsome silver-haired man in the very flattering outfit.

At the register, Gibbs blanched at the cost of the suit, but Tony reminded him that he was making a gesture of respect to one of his oldest and dearest friends. Meek but still grumbling slightly, he handed over his credit card.

Stowing the new suits in the trunk of the car, they headed out to Gus Kaikonia's place. His home was located in a section of town that was anything but blighted. The house turned out to be almost literally a Baroque palace, somewhat miniaturized, and carefully sequestered behind a gated iron fence. Made of some kind of grey stone, it dripped with carved curlicues and leaves like the decorations on a wedding cake. A graveled circular drive led through the emerald green lawn up to the column-framed front door.

Tony pulled up to the speaker at the front gate and pushed the button. After a few moments, the speaker crackled and a gruff voice said, "State your name and business."

"Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo," Tony responded, "here to talk to Mr. Kaikonia about the murder of Bob Bullard."

There was a long pause before the gates swung open to admit them. As they pulled up at the front door, it opened, and a man wearing a black muscle t-shirt and khaki pants stepped out on to the porch. He resembled no one so much as Mr. Clean, all shoulders and biceps, but without the cheery twinkle. In fact, he looked just plain mean. He watched with a scowl as Gibbs and DiNozzo got out of the car and climbed the steps.

"Mr. Kaikonia is out by the pool," he informed them. Turning, he led them into the house and through the hall. The hall itself featured not one but two huge, multi-tiered crystal chandeliers, an intricately patterned floor of inlaid marble, and occasional tables and chairs that looked like antiques. Tony looked around appraisingly and told Gibbs, "This is even fancier than my mother's place."

At the other end of the hall, French doors led out to a patio featuring a large rectangular pool. A thin, bald man wearing swim trunks and a short terry robe lounged on a chaise with a small table nearby. On the table was a tray that held a pitcher and several glasses, along with a cell phone. At the far end of the pool, three very young, very blond, very slender women were desultorily tossing a beach ball back and forth among themselves.

"The agents, Mr. Kaikonia," Mr. Not-Clean informed the man on the chaise, who squinted up at them

"Always happy to cooperate with law enforcement. Have a chair," he invited.

Gibbs remained standing. DiNozzo, his most seductive smile in place, gazed at the three women and casually drifted toward them. Once within chatting distance, he began talking with them.

"So you wanna talk about Bob Bullard?" Kaikonia asked, keeping his eye on DiNozzo.

"Yup," answered Gibbs.

"You from Columbus police?"

"No," Gibbs said, "my associate and I are from NCIS, on special liaison with the local law agency."

"NCIS? What the hell is that?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We investigate any and all crimes that involve either Navy or Marine interests."

"No shit," Kaikonia exclaimed. "What's the connection with Bullard?"

"He was a marine and a friend of mine," Gibbs answered in a patient tone of voice.

"So whadya wanna know?"

"We know you and Bullard were both members of the Columbus Development Council Advisory Board and that the two of you disagreed pretty strongly on what the Development Council should be doing."

"You heard that, did you? Well, it's true. Most of us on the board feel that the only way the community will progress is if we remove all the blighted construction and replace it."

"Even if it means making people homeless?"

"There are other agencies to deal with that," Kaikonia answered, waving a hand dismissively.

"I've been told you profit personally from new construction."

"I'm in the construction business, and occasionally I bid on and am awarded some of these contracts."

Gibbs decided to try a slightly difference tack.

"Did you ever threaten Bob Bullard?"

Kaikonia, who up to this point had continued to watch the action near the pool, gave Gibbs a startled look.

"Who told you I did?"

"So you did threaten him," Gibbs stated.

Kaikonia's face was getting red. "I think I don't want to talk to you anymore without my lawyer."

Gibbs cocked his head. "Fine. Let him know we're gonna call you in for a little chat downtown." He turned to leave, saying, "We'll show ourselves out." He looked toward the pool and called, "DiNozzo!"

The younger man spent a couple of minutes saying goodbye to his new friends before following Gibbs back through the hall. As he passed the chaise, he tossed a wide-grinned "See ya around, Mr. Kaikonia," to the sputtering contractor

Once they were back in the car, Gibbs turned to DiNozzo. "So?"

"Their names are Marlene, Tina, and Chris. They live with Gus; he pays all their expenses. Their only responsibility is to be available to do whatever he wants them to do whenever he wants them to do it."

As he steered the car down the drive, he added, "Gus also spends a good chunk of his money on his gun collection. He has a special room on the second floor where all the walls are covered with all kinds of guns, and he has a worktable where he and Bozo the goon make their own bullets."

"Interesting," Gibbs said.

"I thought so," Tony replied with a satisfied smirk.

The two agents returned to the Pellegrini house to hang up their new clothes and clean up a bit before attending the viewing. Stopping at the Bullard house to let Neva know they were there, they grabbed a quick snack from the ever-groaning tables and then followed the family to the funeral home.

They were quiet in the car, both thinking back to the last funeral they had attended. That one had been really tough, Tony thought, burying someone they had both loved in their own ways, a friend, a colleague, the bratty but adorable little sister Tony had never had. He had never met Bob Bullard and therefore had no personal investment in his death, but Gibbs had just lost one of his best friends to a second bullet to the head. No one ever said life was fair, but sometimes it was less fair than usual. Tony glanced at Gibbs, who sat stony-faced across from him. Tony wondered what he was thinking.

What Gibbs was thinking about was Kate's funeral, coming as it had just after Ari the terrorist had finally met his well-deserved fate for killing her. He had grieved deeply and long for the young woman he had admired and loved so much for her courage and her spirit, and now here he was grieving again for a lost friend, with whom he had shared so many experiences throughout their long friendship. If he had to put up with much more, he thought, he might just have to quit what he was doing and find a hideout somewhere where he could be alone with his memories and not have to worry about being responsible for the weight of the world anymore.

The funeral home was full of people. Mourners streamed through the main chapel, leaving sympathy cards on a table and signing the guest book before passing through the receiving line to greet the family members. Nearby, on another table, were two photographs, one a recent business portrait of Bob and the other a wedding portrait of Neva and Bob. Having no official duties, Tony had ample time to study the two pictures. Bob Bullard, he discovered, had not been particularly handsome, but his face was pleasant and showed intelligence and purpose. Tony saw the father's reflection in the faces of his children.

Lauren stood near her mother, seeming very adult in her graciousness. Eric hung back, hugging the wall, only coming forward when his mother asked him to. Lance, puppy-like, roamed energetically throughout the room, stopping to chat with the visitors he knew, but also returning frequently to Tony's side to ask questions or make comments.

Finally the hours crept along to the end of the viewing time, and with sighs of relief, the family was able to return home for a late supper. Several of Lance's friends had gathered to make as big a dent as they could in the mountain of food. After eating, Lance invited Tony to join them in a quick basketball game before they all turned in early to rest in preparation for the next day.

Returning to the Pellegrini house, Gibbs and DiNozzo once more encountered Rosa urging them to eat more cheesecake. They accepted but took only relatively small pieces, chatting with Rosa and Piero as they ate.

It had been a long and busy day. They fell into their beds, grateful for the opportunity to rest.

Chapter Four - Monday

After getting up at 5:30 again to run, Gibbs and DiNozzo put on their new clothes and stopped in Rosa's kitchen for more instant oatmeal. They arrived at police headquarters at around 8:30. Inasmuch as it was Monday, the squad room was full with officers returning from their weekend off. On the two previous days, the two NCIS agents had not been given much attention. Today was different.

Tony had known from an early age that he was unusually attractive. Now, from his position walking behind Gibbs, Tony observed with amusement that conversation in the room ceased and heads swiveled as the two tall, handsome men, attired in their elegant new suits, walked over to Wojcewski's area. Gibbs, as usual, was oblivious to the stir they were creating.

As they sat down at their temporary desks, Wojcewski gave a low whistle while Conway grinned broadly and said, "Hi, sailors. Come here often?" Gibbs gave her the patented Gibbs glare, but Tony just laughed out loud. Jess Widstrom permitted himself one small twinge of jealousy, but had to admit that the two feds were undeniably glamorous.

As their ad hoc team began to recap what they knew so far, a steady stream of people, mostly female, began to make its way toward their area, just happening to have some small errand or other for which they needed to talk directly to Wojcewski or one of her team, and, oh, incidentally, be introduced to the handsome strangers. Gibbs was showing annoyance at the many little interruptions, but he managed for the most part to behave with civility, outside of the glare, for Wojcewski's sake.

In between visitors, Widstrom did manage to tell them that he had returned to the office yesterday afternoon. He and Anne Wojcewski had come to the same conclusion as Gibbs and DiNozzo, that Bob's murder was most likely because of his membership on the Development Council's Advisory Board. They had rousted a local judge from his comfortable seat in front of his wide-screen TV and a Cincinnati Reds game to obtain a set of search warrants.

They had next found the Development Council's office manager, who met them at the Council office and watched anxiously as they loaded up meeting minutes, financial records, and as many computer discs as they could get their hands on. Warning the office manager that they might also have to seize the computers, they returned to headquarters.

There, Wojcewski and Widstrom had requisitioned a team of investigators with accounting credentials and set them to work on the books. The CPAs had been studying the records almost all night, knocking off only at 7:00 in the morning, but they had come up with a telling little problem. Six months previously, the Council had received a $145,000 down payment on a grant from a local foundation. The purpose of the grant was to do a study of one block of run-down but still occupied housing and determine what would be the best plan for it. The day after receiving the check, the office manager had written a check for $145,000 to Gus Kaikonia's construction company, and there was no evidence anywhere that the money had been spent on the purpose for which it was granted..

"They're that blatant?" Gibbs asked.

"They must be feeling invincible or something," Tony added.

"We're building a really good circumstantial case against Kaikonia," said Anne, "but we still need to find the smoking gun."

"Literally," Mary Conway pointed out.

Gibbs then confessed that he and Tony had visited Kaikonia the previous afternoon.

Wojcewski raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "I thought you guys were going to follow our lead," she said. "Oh, well, did you find out anything interesting?"

DiNozzo said, "He has a bodyguard who looks like Mr. Clean without the charm."

Widstrom replied, "That would be his chief of security, so to speak. "Theo Paronis." Widstrom turned around to his computer and in a moment had a photo of Paronis on the screen, along with his rap sheet. After studying the data, a list of arrests going back more than twenty years, with but few convictions, Gibbs commented, "Charming fellow."

Wojcewski responded, "Kaikonia's been buying him out of trouble for a long time. We'd like to nail him, too."

"What else did you learn?" Conway asked DiNozzo.

"He has three exceptionally lovely young ladies living with him. Some sort of harem, I gather," Tony answered. "They told me he's an avid gun collector, even has a special room to house them where he and Paronis make their own bullets."

"We knew that he was a gun collector, but as far as we know, he doesn't hunt," Wojcewski said.

"At least not for Bambi," added Widstrom.

Wojcewski turned to Conway. "Did we check on the physical composition of the bullet we got?"

Conway picked up her phone. "We didn't specifically ask for it," she said. "I'll ask the lab if they did it already."

At that moment Wojcewski's phone rang. Picking it up, she listened for a minute, then hung up. She had a troubled look on her face.

"The Development Council's office manager was just found dead at her desk. Shot in the temple."

The group was silent for a moment. Gibbs said, "They just upped the ante."

"She did call Kaikonis and a couple of other people while we were there yesterday," Widstrom reported.

Wojcewski turned to Gibbs and DiNozzo. "You guys want to work the scene with us?"

Gibbs replied, "We'd love to, but we're going to have to leave soon for Bob's funeral. What say we meet back here this afternoon."

Anne, Mary, and Jess packed up their gear and left. Gibbs and DeNozzo continued to review the reports that had been collected until it was time for them to leave.

The First Congregational Church in Columbus was slightly more than a mile away from police headquarters. Entering the vestibule about ten minutes before the service was to begin, Gibbs and DiNozzo saw Neva waving them over to where she stood with other members of the family.

"Jethro," she said, "I'd like you to sit with me and Lauren. And, Tony, if you wouldn't mind, would you sit behind us with Eric and Lance?"

The group watched as mourners entered the church, and the vestibule began to fill with robed choir members. Neva explained that the choir would proceed down the aisle, followed by the ministers and then the family.

Neva's eyes started to tear up again. "Even though it's Monday, everyone in the church wanted to participate, to show their respect for Bob. As Gibbs embraced her, she continued, "I'd just as soon have him back and not know about the respect."

From the sanctuary they could hear organ music. Right on the dot of eleven, the organist paused before beginning a favorite old hymn, "Our God, Our Help in Ages Past." The choir, hymn books in hand, stepped off down the aisle into the sanctuary. When the ministers had followed the choir, the family fell in line behind them. The choir took their places in the choir loft, the ministers stood behind the altar, and the family members filled the front three pews on either side of the aisle. Gibbs sat close to Neva, no doubt holding her hand. Tony sat in the pew behind them with Neva's two sons on either side of him.

It had been a while since Tony had been in a church. The only church he'd visited during his time in Columbus was the chapel at the U. He had more or less abandoned his Catholic faith once he left his family home, but now he looked appreciatively at the multitude of gleaming ranks of organ pipes above the altar, the tall windows, and the way the choir's wine-colored robes glowed against the fine, dark wood panels. Even though the Congregational faith had grown out of that of the Puritans, which traditionally eschewed the excesses of Catholic worship, this building was magnificently appointed, which somehow seemed to make it easier to worship a god he wasn't sure he believed in any more.

The altar was draped in black with a small, exquisitely constructed wooden casket on it, which Tony surmised probably contained Bob Bullard's ashes. On either side of the casket stood the two portraits he'd seen last evening at the wake.

As usual, Lance Bullard was fidgeting energetically, but his brother Eric sat on Tony's other side, leaning slightly against the older man's arm. His eyes showed the effects of lots of crying, and even during the service he sobbed noticeably several times.

The service consisted of several anthems sung by the choir, hymn singing by the congregation, prayers recited by the ministers, and a brief homily and a longer eulogy delivered by the senior minister. The eulogy contained a long and varied list of Bob Bullard's accomplishments and achievements, including his service to the church. There was no doubt that, even in a relatively large city like Columbus, he had made his presence known through his good works.

Tony was not surprised to discover that Neva had asked Jethro to speak. Gibbs took his place at the pulpit and looked around the standing-room only congregation.

"I hardly remember a time when I didn't know Bob Bullard," he began. "We met on the first day of basic, sitting next to each other in the barber chairs getting our ears lowered."

He continued talking about his friendship with the deceased and the experiences, both military and civilian, they'd shared over the years.

"As a criminal investigator," he said, "I deal with premature and violent death every day on the job. Most of the time, I put my personal feelings aside, a job that I'm very good at. Today, though, my heart is aching. One of my best and oldest friends has been murdered. I'm doing everything I can to see that his killer or killers are brought to justice. In the meantime, all I can do is salute him, one ex-Marine to another."

Facing the small box on the altar, Jethro brought his right hand slowly up to his forehead in a measured salute. As he lowered his hand, he said with a voice cracking with grief, "Semper fi, buddy."

From the gallery above and behind the sanctuary a bugler began to play "Taps." Tony and many other congregants twisted their necks to look and saw another large beautiful organ, in front of which stood a Marine in dress blues playing the bugle. Throughout the service many people, not just the official mourners, had had tears in their eyes. As the full, rich, yet infinitely sad sound of "Taps" echoed through the sanctuary, there was an obbligato of soft sobs. Even Tony felt his eyes sting. Beside him, Eric turned his head to bury his face on Tony's shoulder, his own shoulders quaking.

After the final prayer, the minister spoke. "There will be no funeral procession. The family invites all of you to join them now in Fellowship Hall, just below the sanctuary, for lunch."

The organ played the final hymn; the choir recessed, singing, down the aisle, followed again by the ministers, and then the rest of the congregation. Ushers appeared to lead the family members down a set of stairs near the altar. In Fellowship Hall several tables held the usual over-abundance of food. In a separate kitchen, women wearing aprons were removing still more dishes from ovens and refrigerators and setting them out.

Neva and Lauren and members of Bob's family stood in a receiving line, accepting still more condolences. Tony shepherded the two boys past a couple of the tables of food and then found a table nearby at which to sit. Eric, still showing signs of grief, only picked at his food. Lance gobbled down the contents of his plate and then excused himself, saying he was going back for seconds, but in reality making connections with some other kids his age.

"Are you all right?" Tony asked Eric.

"I just can't believe it," Eric replied, looking up at him. "My dad was the best guy in the world. Who would want to kill him?"

"We're starting to get some leads," Tony told him. "I'm beginning to think maybe he was too good, and that's why he was killed. There are a lot of bad people in the world who don't like the good people."

Eric looked as though that was no consolation.

Lance came rocketing back at this moment, and, noticing Eric's tear-filled eyes, jeered him. "Crybaby!"

Eric glared at his younger brother. "You don't seem to understand. Dad's dead, and he's never going to come back." He jumped out of his chair, heading for the stairs.

Lance followed his brother's retreat with wide eyes. He sat down again next to Tony. "I know dad is dead," he said. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's very sad," Tony told him. "He just has a different way of dealing with it than you do."

"Oh. Okay." Lance said. "I'm gonna get something else to eat." He took off again.

Tony shook his head at the emotional roller coaster of impending puberty. For some time he sat watching the crowd, occasionally speaking with people who passed by his table. After some time, it was Gibbs who approached.

"You ready to go?" Gibbs asked.

"Any time you are."

They made their way back to Neva to let her know they were leaving.

Tony had barely pulled the car out onto East Broad Street when he glanced into the rear view mirror and saw a large gray car pull out from the curb a block or so behind him.

"I think we've got company," he announced to Gibbs.

As he began to accelerate, looking back again, he saw the car behind was speeding up as well, closing the distance considerably. He saw an arm emerge from the passenger side window.

"Duck!" he yelled. "Gun!" At the same moment they heard a loud bang and felt the car kick. When Tony applied the brakes hard, the car fishtailed and came to a clunking halt. At the same instant Gibbs and DiNozzo opened their doors and piled out while grabbing their guns. The car behind them, though, had already spun around in a tire-squealing U turn and headed back in the opposite direction, and there were too many other cars and pedestrians on the busy street for them to get a clear, safe shot.

"Somebody's apparently getting a little nervous," Tony said, reholstering his gun.

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied.

Tony knelt down to examine the now shredded tire and mangled wheel. "We aren't going anywhere soon," he announced, standing up and brushing bits of gravel from the knees of his new suit.

Gibbs already had flipped open his cell and was calling Wojcewski for assistance.

"I got the plate number," Tony announced, once more finding his ability to read backward an investigational asset. Gibbs relayed the information to Anne, who immediately pulled up the number, which revealed that the car was a late-model Mercedes registered to one Augustus Kaikonia.

"Bring him in, and his goon, too," Gibbs told Wojcewski. "Do you have a search warrant for the house?"

The answer was apparently satisfactory. Closing the cell, Gibbs told Tony, "The police tow truck will be here in about 20 minutes."

"We're close enough; we could walk back in less time than that."

"We need to stay here for now. That wheel's evidence that needs to be secured. Did you find the slug?"

Cursing to himself, DiNozzo knelt down again to examine the ground under the car.

"There's no exit hole in the wheel," he reported. "We'll have to wait until the lab pulls it open."

He stood up again. "Why do I get the feeling that there's a lot more than a measly $145,000 involved here?"

"Maybe because there's a lot more than $145,000 involved," replied Gibbs.

Nearly an hour later, after the car was towed to the police garage, they were back in the squad room. Wojcewski had left a message that the Chief had agreed to pay for the repairs to the rental, since it was now officially evidence of a crime. He also was making a department car available to the two agents.

In the meantime, Wojcewski and her team were on their way to Kaikonia's house with backup and wouldn't be back for some time. Several reports had arrived in the meantime. The bullet that had killed the Development Council's office manager had been found and analyzed. Tests on its composition and that of the bullet that killed Bob showed that they were both made from the same type of lead. Again the bullet was deformed, but the lab had been able to determine that it was .357 calibre. There were enough markings on both bullets that, if a weapon was retrieved, ballistics should be able to confirm that both were fired from the same gun.

Tony took advantage of a few minutes of their down time to call McGee, who reported that they were mostly working on cold cases. Ziva had had lunch with the director and returned looking like the cat who ate the canary. Tim didn't have any idea what that was about.

Tony described the case and mentioned that they were in the process of pulling in a suspect so that the case might be wrapped up yet today, by tomorrow for sure. After describing the church service, he talked about the fact they'd been shot at, but that they were fine, although their rental car had sustained major trauma.

Impressed, Tim exclaimed, "Wow! Who's gonna pay for the repairs?"

"Department.. It's evidence now," Tony replied and rang off after a few more pleasantries. He chose not to mention to Gibbs that Ziva and Shepard were playing gal-pals again.

Tony also made a couple of calls to former classmates who still lived in the Columbus area. Gibbs listened as Tony laughed and reminisced with them, but was pleased that Tony informed them he was in town on business and not likely to have time for a face-to-face get-together with them.

It was an hour before Wojcewski and her team returned with their suspects and boxes of evidence, including no fewer than three Magnum pistols, several containers of bulk lead, and two bullet molds. Gus Kaikonia and Theo Paronis were downstairs being processed before being placed in interrogation rooms. The Mercedes was in the police garage, its engine still warm from stalking Gibbs and DiNozzo.

"There's so much evidence available," Anne observed. "It's hard to know where to start."

Gibbs suggested, "Let's dust everything for fingerprints first. The guns, the lead, the molds, the car."

He added, "We still have time to get a warrant for the offices of Kaikonia's construction company."

Conway picked up the phone to call the friendly judge again.

Gibbs went on, "I supposed by now it's too late to try to get tire tracks over by the church."

"Yeah," agreed Tony. "There's a lot of traffic on that street. If there were any tracks, they're probably wiped out by now."

"Either of you boys want to do the interrogations?" Wojcewski asked the NCIS agents.

"One of Gibbs's specialties is interrogation," Tony offered. "He just glares at suspects and scares ‘em so much they just give it up."

The others, having observed the Gibbs stare, laughed. Anne cocked an eyebrow at Gibbs, who gave a slight, lop-sided grin and nodded.

Wojcewski's phone rang, and when she had answered, she listened for several minutes. "Glad to hear it," she said to the caller. "Thanks for your help."

After hanging up, she turned to the blended team. "State bears," she explained. "When we got to Kaikonia's place and picked the guys up, one of the bimbos asked if we were going to arrest Jimbo, too. Imagine our surprise."

Tony asked, "Who's Jimbo?"

Mary Conway answered. "Turns out he's another one of Gus's bodyguards. When he saw us coming, he took off so we put out an APB."

"Yeah," Anne said with a grin. "Apparently, he really pissed off the bears. He headed south toward Cincinnati on Interstate 71. He passed a patrol unit clocking 90 miles per hour, and when the guy tried to stop him, he rabbited. Another unit going north crossed the median and blockaded him. He braked hard and skidded and hit the unit broadside. Pushed it down the highway 125 feet. Fortunately, the bear had already parachuted out. And then Jimbo came out swinging. They got the whole thing on video.'

"Are they bringing him in?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, the Mounties wanted to hang onto him for themselves, but when they realized there was an APB on him for a murder investigation, they agreed to give him up. He'll be here in about half an hour."

Gibbs suggested they begin the interrogations of Kaikonia and Paronis, but Wojcewski's phone rang again. This time it was the vehicle lab, requesting the team's presence. Upon their arrival, they found Clint and his associates surrounding the Mercedes. He led them to the passenger side door, where he had discovered a fourth Magnum .357 in the side pocket. The gun was on its way up to the lab for fingerprinting. They had also found several prints on the steering wheel.

The lab guys had also dismounted the right rear wheel from Gibbs' and DiNozzo's rental, and upon pulling the shredded rubber off, found inside the wheel the now-familiar misshapen chunk of lead. Clint promised to let them know immediately when he had more results for them.

By the time they returned to the interrogation area, Jess Widstrom had prepared a folder containing the evidence they had collected so far. Gibbs quickly reviewed it, then entered the room where Gus Kaikonia was waiting.

He was slouched in his chair, wearing a casual shirt and slacks instead of his bathing suit. Seeing Gibbs, he straightened up, preparing for battle.

"You again," Kaikonia said.

"Yeah, me again," Gibbs answered. He sat down across from Gus and looked through the folder again. Then he closed the folder, looked at Gus, and waited.

"Yeah, what?" Gus demanded. "Why'd you pull me in.?"

"I have reason to believe you are responsible for the murder of Bob Bullard and probably Alice Soles, the office manager at the Columbus Development Council."

"I didn't kill anybody," Gus protested.

"I believe you," said Gibbs, to Kaikonia's surprise. "However, while you may not have pulled the trigger yourself, I believe you ordered their murders."

"You can't prove that," Gus said defiantly.

"I will," Gibbs promised.

Someone knocked at the door of the interrogation room. Excusing himself politely, Gibbs stepped out. Wojcewski handed him a note that the lab had determined the prints on the gun found in the Mercedes belonged to James "Jimbo" Atwater. The steering wheel was covered with Theo Paronis's fingerprints. Clint also reported the Magnum had been fired very recently. He was about to begin ballistics tests to verify it was the gun that had fired the bullets that had killed Bullard and Soles. His team had checked the registrations of the four Magnum .357s that had been picked up. To no one's surprise, none were registered. If nothing else, they would be able to charge Kaikonia with possession of illegal weapons.

Gibbs returned to the interrogation room. "Tell me about Jimbo," he requested.

"Jimbo who?"

Gibbs shook his head impatiently. "Your employee. Jimbo Atwater."

"What about him?"

"Is he your hit man?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Kaikonia answered, starting to show some anger.

"Mr. Kaikonia, let me lay it out for you," Gibbs went on. "We have two murders. They both had connections to the Columbus Development Council. Both victims were shot in the temple. The bullets we recovered at the crime scenes were hand-made of pure lead. Both were .357 calibre. You are a member of the Development Council's Advisory Board. You have a supply of lead. You have two bullet molds for .357 calibre ammunition. We'll be comparing the bullets we found with the molds, but I'd be surprised if the bullets from the murders weren't made in your molds.

"We picked up four Magnum .357 handguns from your house and your car, at least one of which was fired very recently. The one we found in the Mercedes has Jimbo's prints all over it. We're doing ballistics tests to compare the bullets to the firing patterns of the four guns. I'm sure one or the other will match."

He paused to look at his file again. "We're examining the records of the Columbus Development Council, the Advisory Board, and your company. We know that your company got $145,000 that was intended for a feasibility study to be done by the Development Council.

"I have no doubt we're going to be able to tie everything together once we've examined all the evidence. It would be so much more helpful if you'd just tell us everything right now, and then we wouldn't have to work so hard."

Kaikonia's glare was even more frightening than Gibbs's because it was full of hate and anger.

"You don't have anything. Your evidence isn't going to hold up. You can't pin anything on me." Kaikonia's voice was low and rough.

"If that's your story, fine," Gibbs said. "But don't forget—there are other people involved. We're questioning them, too."

"You can question everyone in town as far as I care," Kaikonia responded. "You can arrest anyone you want. I did not murder anyone. And I'm not going to answer any more questions until I talk to my lawyer."

"I'll be talking with you later." Gibbs smiled, which made Kaikonia growl. Gibbs left the room.

In the observation room, Anne Wojcewski reported that the Highway Patrol had brought in Jimbo; he was being processed. Gibbs looked at his watch. It was getting on for five o'clock.

"I have to call Neva Bullard, and let her know DiNozzo and I won't be back for a while," he reported. "DiNozzo, you want to tackle Theo?"

"With pleasure," Tony responded.

DiNozzo entered the interrogation room next door to face Theo Paronis. "Jimbo Atwater was just brought in," he told Theo. "I understand he's pretty scared, and he's telling everyone he's ready to confess."

Theo's arms were crossed over his chest. "He's a chickenshit. He ain't gonna tell the truth."

"Maybe so, but I think he will, so maybe you should, too," Tony said. "Especially when we show you and him all the evidence we have that indicates you and he are Kaikonia's paid assassins."

"So who am I supposed to kill?" Paronis demanded.

"For starters, there's Bob Bullard. Then when Alice Soles at the Development Corporation surrendered her records, Kaikonis decided she had to go, too."

"I didn't kill nobody," Paronis said sullenly.

"Then there's the matter of someone taking a shot at my partner and me, probably trying to scare us off the case," Tony went on.

"And you can prove all of this how?" demanded Theo.

DiNozzo recited the same proofs Gibbs had given Kaikonia, but Paronis was unmoved. Gibbs interrupted the session, indicating they were ready to move on to Atwater.

Atwater was a short, wiry fellow in his late forties who twitched constantly. He had thin, stringy hair, and his twill pants and plaid shirt were wrinkled and gave off a slightly sour odor. His eyes darted around; he seemed unable to look anyone in the eye. Although there was a bottle of water in front of him, he licked his lips frequently.

DiNozzo had not been lying to Paronis in saying Atwater was ready to confess everything. He had been badly shaken by the high-speed pursuit and by the crash into the highway patrol car, and the fact that he had then been surrounded by half a dozen patrolmen with drawn weapons, plus two helicopters overhead, had shaken him even more. Not only that, he realized that Kaikonia and Paronis were undoubtedly ready to sacrifice him if it meant they could save themselves.

When Gibbs entered the room, Jimbo was almost stuttering in his eagerness to tell all and cut himself as good a deal as he could get. He told Gibbs he had not been privy to all the discussions about Kaikonia's scheme, but he knew enough about the deal Kaikonia was trying to make to put Gus away for a long, long time.

Essentially, according to Atwater, Kaikonia was using his position as a member of the Development Council Advisory Board to swing a big project his way. The Council would be responsible for tearing down run-down housing on at least three city blocks, maybe more. Contracts for construction of new commercial structures would be given to Kaikonia's construction company without bidding and at vastly inflated costs, and he would share the booty with his cronies on the Development Council. Atwater thought he'd heard the deal would be worth close to a billion dollars.

Gibbs asked Atwater who had shot Bob Bullard and why.

"Kaikonia called him that night and told him he was ready to compromise. That he'd include some low-income housing in the project if Bullard would stop opposing it. It was a lie; he didn't mean it, but he wanted Bullard to meet him. Kaikonis didn't go himself; Theo and I did. Theo was the one who shot him. Gus figured with Bullard out of the picture, the other members of the council would cave. And if they didn't…." Atwater's voice trailed off, his inference hanging in the air threateningly.

"And Alice Soles?" Gibbs asked.

"When the police showed up at the council office, she got all panicky. She knew Gus was up to something, but not exactly what. She called him to find out if it was okay to give all the records to the cops, but he said no, not to let them take anything until he got there, but it was too late, they were already hauling everything out. By the time me ‘n' him got there, they were gone. She was apologizing, and he was very calm. But he gave me the nod, and I shot her." He rubbed his face. "I only practice shooting a lot. I never shot a person before."

Gibbs had another question for Jimbo. "And when my partner and I left First Congregational Church this morning, did you and Paronis tail us and take a shot at us?"

"Yeah, Theo was driving. I'm a better shot than he is, and I knew I could hit the wheel."

"Whose idea was it to do that?"

"Gus ordered us to do it," Jimbo answered. "He didn't want you dead, at least not yet, but he wanted to scare you."

Finally Gibbs finished his questioning of Jimbo. "This interview has been recorded," he told the man. "When it's typed up, you'll be signing it as your confession."

"Right," Jimbo sighed. "I'm glad it's all over with. Shooting a person. I can't believe I did that. I hate Gus Kaikonia for making me do that."

Gibbs returned to Gus Kaikonia's interrogation room. "Jimbo has confessed and implicated you in the murders of Bob Bullard and Alice Soles," he informed Gus.

Gus crossed his arms. "I didn't kill anyone."

"Like I told you before," Gibbs told him, "you might not have pulled the trigger, but the person who did, did so at your direction."

"My lawyer will have me out of here in 20 minutes," Gus said.

"You're going to be charged with solicitation for murder," said Gibbs. "I doubt you'll get bail."

Kaikonis fell silent. As Gibbs exited, Anne Wojcewski was arranging for him to be detained overnight.

At a nod from Gibbs, DiNozzo entered Theo Paronis's room to tell him that he was facing charges of murder, based on Atwater's confession. Paronis also denied killing anyone, but DiNozzo pointed out that in addition to Atwater's information, the evidence pointed clearly to his involvement in the crimes.

The team returned jubilantly to the squad room. It was almost 8:00 o'clock, but Wojcewski's desk contained a blizzard of paper, reports on what the lab techs were learning from the evidence, which did indeed point clearly to the guilt of Kaikonia, Paronis, and Atwater. There was still a lot of work to be done, though. Among other things, someone would have to examine closely the records of Kaikonia's construction company.

"Do you need us to stick around and help you with that?" Gibbs asked Wojcewski.

"Man, you've already given us so much help," she answered. "We wouldn't have been able to crack the case this soon without you. But the rest is grunt work. We'll just have to sit down and plow through it all. We can't thank you enough."

Mary Conway suggested they all go out for a drink, to which Gibbs and DiNozzo agreed. Chief Quander, who had not left the office yet, showed up, having heard that the case was solved. He congratulated the team, thanking Gibbs and DiNozzo fervently for their contribution, and accepted an invitation to join them for a drink.

At a bar not far from the headquarters building, they squeezed around a small table to trade more war stories. The Columbus people were fascinated by the work the NCIS people got to do, including chasing terrorists.

"Maybe I'll apply for NCIS myself," said Jess Widstrom. Anne Wojcewski and Mary Conway agreed.

"I'd be happy to consider it," Jethro told them.

"Well," said Chief Quander, "turn about is fair play." He turned to Tony. "Any time you want to get back into real police work, you just let me know. You'd be a real asset to my department."

His three detectives nodded vigorously.

Tony took a swallow of beer while considering how to answer. "Thanks a lot, Chief," he said, "but I've had my experiences on local police forces, and, frankly, I like it just fine at NCIS."

When Gibbs and DiNozzo reached the Bullard home an hour and a half later, they found Neva anxiously awaiting their arrival with her children and the Pellegrinis nearby. All but a few of their guests had left already.

"Is it over?" Neva asked.

Gibbs put his arms around her. "It's over."

While he and DiNozzo ate leftovers, they told the story of the investigation. Lance, who it was clear by now had developed a galloping case of hero worship for Tony, was hanging close to the agent.

"I guess you were right, huh?" he said to Tony. "My dad was just too good, and that's why he had to die."

The little assembly fell silent, contemplating the sad truth.

As Gibbs and DiNozzo finished their meal, Rosa Pellegrini informed them that she had made more cheesecake for their dessert and, not only that, planned to wrap up a substantial chunk of it for them to take back to Washington with them.

Gibbs smiled at her. "I doubt we'll be able to get through airport security with it, Rosa," he said. "Your cheesecake is a lethal weapon."

With a hearty laugh, the little party broke up, and Gibbs and DiNozzo accompanied the Pellegrinis back to their house for dessert and, finally, well-deserved sleep.

Chapter Five – Tuesday

When Gibbs and DiNozzo had cleaned up after their early morning run, they and the Pellegrinis went to Neva's house for breakfast. As Tony was having a second cup of coffee, Lance pulled him out to the back porch and sat down close to him in the glider.

"My dad's dead," Lance began.

"Yes," concurred Tony.

"He's not coming back."

"No."

"That's what happens when someone gets shot."

"Yes."

Tony put his arm around the youngster, pulling him closer. As Lance looked up into Tony's face, suddenly his eyes began to fill with tears, and in a moment he began to sob into Tony's chest as, for the first time, he completely realized his loss. Neva peered out through the screen door, but Tony shook his head at her to indicate he had the situation under control.

Finally the storm was over. Lance pulled up his shirttail and wiped his eyes.

"I guess I'm a crybaby just like Eric," he said with a hiccup.

Tony thumbed the tears off his cheeks. "It's okay to cry when someone you love dies."

When Lance had recovered, he asked Tony, "Are you going to come back and see us?"

"I'll have to come back to testify at the trial of your father's killers," Tony replied.

"Can I call you sometimes?"

"Absolutely," answered Tony.

With a satisfied sigh, Lance snuggled close to Tony again.

For some time they swung gently to and fro while Lance found comfort in the warmth and solidity of his new friend. Then it was time for Gibbs and DiNozzo to get their gear and get ready to leave. They had called an airline the evening before, when they knew the case was solved, to get reservations. It turned out that they were going to be accompanied to the airport by a large group of admirers and well-wishers to see them off. They rode in Neva's car with Lance still sitting close to Tony in the back seat. The Pellegrinis took Lauren and Eric, and a couple of other relatives, who had been impressed by the NCIS agents, made a third group.

When they arrived at the airport, they found that Anne Wojcewski, Mary Conway, and Jess Widstrom had also had decided to see them off.

"You guys can come work cases with us any time," Anne told Gibbs, as Conway and Widstrom murmured agreement.

Tony said, "If any of you guys, any of you, are ever in D.C., be sure and let us know. We'll give you the two-bit tour of NCIS."

Neva and Jethro discussed Lauren's upcoming stay in Washington, during which she would live with her godfather for the ten weeks of her internship at the Department of Agriculture. Both Eric and Lance were embracing Tony. A round robin of kisses and hugs and handshakes occurred among the group until the flight was called. With waves of farewell, the Columbus group said their goodbyes.

As Gibbs and DiNozzo stood in line, waiting to enter the boarding gate, DiNozzo suddenly realized something.

"Hey, boss."

"Yeah?" Gibbs said.

"You haven't hit me on the back of the head once since we've been here."

Gibbs gazed at him levelly.

"You did good, DiNozzo," he said. "I didn't need to."

DiNozzo smiled at him, a gentle, sincere smile that he seldom showed to anyone, which Gibbs returned.

On the plane, they took seats on the starboard side, with Gibbs sitting in the window seat. DiNozzo ordered earphones so that he could listen to music. Putting the phones on and selecting a station, he stretched out his long frame as much as he could and put his head back and closed his eyes.

As the plane lofted over the city of Columbus, Gibbs looked out to the blue sky above it. Raising his hand in a salute, he murmured, "Semper fi, buddy."