Worst Fears Realized (2 page)

“I do.”

She stood up, and she was taller than he had expected. Quite beautiful, too. Stone got out of his chair. “Did you have a coat?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go find it.”

He took her arm, and, just for a moment, he thought the pain had gone away. Not quite, but a little. He steered her toward the front door, avoiding their hosts. Dino gave him a surreptitious wink, and a moment later, they were on the sidewalk.

“It’s nearly eleven,” Stone said, glancing at his watch. “I wonder if anyplace is still serving around here.”

“My apartment is only a couple of blocks away,” she said, “and there’s a good Chinese place that delivers.”

“Perfect,” he said.

“It’s not perfect, but it delivers.”

“I wasn’t talking about Chinese food.”

2

T
HEY WALKED AT A LEISURELY PACE, CHATTING
idly. Her voice was low and musical, and Stone enjoyed listening.

“I recall that you are a lawyer, but I forget with whom,” she said.

“I’m in private practice.”

She laughed. “At Yale law we were taught to believe that ‘private practice’ meant you couldn’t get a job with a good firm.”

“That’s probably a fair characterization, but my excuse is that I was a cop for fourteen years and came to the practice of law, as opposed to the upholding of it, late in life. I’m of counsel to Woodman and Weld, but I work out of a home office.”

She wrinkled her brow. “That’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, I guess.”

“Oh, I get it; you do the dirty work, the stuff they don’t want to be seen to handle.”

“You’re very quick.”

“That’s what they say about me down at the DA’s Office,” she said. “‘Susan Bean is very quick.’ Of course, that’s not
all
they say about me.”

They stopped for a traffic light. “What else do they say?”

“Some call me the conscience of the office; others call me a pain in the ass. I guess it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“What are you working on now?”

“I was second chair to Martin Brougham on the Dante case,” she said.

“Congratulations,” Stone replied. “That was a big win.”

“I guess so.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“Oh, I’m glad we won,” she said. “I’m just not very happy about
how
we won.”

He was about to ask her what she meant when they arrived at her apartment building. She dug for a key and let them in; they took the elevator to the top floor, which was marked
PH
on the button.

“The penthouse?” Stone said. “Pretty fancy for an ADA.”

“It’s the top floor, the twelfth. That’s its only qualification as a penthouse.”

They rode up, and she opened the door to the apartment. It was small—living room, a dining alcove, bedroom, and kitchen. There was a small terrace overlooking the street. Any skyline view was blocked by a taller building across the street.

She went into the kitchen, dug a menu out of a
drawer, and picked up the phone. “Trust me on the selections?” she asked.

“Sure, but nothing too spicy for me.”

She dialed the number and read off a list of dishes. “How long?” she asked. She listened, then covered the phone. “The delivery boy is out sick; would you mind picking it up? It’s not far.”

“Glad to,” Stone said.

“How long?” she asked again. “Okay, twenty minutes.” She hung up. “Can I get you a drink? Twenty minutes really means thirty.”

“Maybe some wine?”

She dug a bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge and handed it to Stone with a corkscrew. “You open it; I’m clumsy.”

Stone opened the bottle and poured them a glass. He threw his coat on a chair, and they sat on the sofa.

“That was quite a list of dishes you ordered,” he said.

“I exist on leftovers from takeout,” she replied. “So what fascinating dirty work are you doing for Woodman and Weld at the moment?” she asked.

“A personal injury suit,” he replied. “Dirty work isn’t always fascinating.”

“Is it a fascinating injury?”

“Not in the least. A Woodman and Weld client’s daughter was hurt in an automobile accident, and the other driver’s insurance company has been recalcitrant about paying her for her pain and suffering.”

“They usually are.”

“What’s next for you at the DA’s Office, now that you’ve put Dante away?”

She sighed. “I don’t know; I’m thinking about giving it up. It wears on me, you know?”

“I think I do, but it sounds like Brougham is on his way up. Won’t he take you with him?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I want to go. When I joined the DA’s Office I was pretty idealistic, I guess. I saw it as the good guys against the bad guys, but now I’m not sure there
are
any good guys.”

“Life is a gray area,” Stone said.

“It’s
charcoal
gray and getting darker,” she said. “Did I ask you if you’re married?”

“No; I’m not.”

“Divorced?”

“Nope.”

“A lifelong bachelor? My God! Are you gay?”

“Nope.”

“Why did you never marry?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” He had been using that answer for a long time. “What about you?”

“A spinster at thirty-two,” she replied.

“Not for want of offers, I suspect.”

“I’ve had my moments.” She looked at him oddly. “May I kiss you?”

Stone laughed. “I’ve been kissed, but I’ve never been asked.”

“May I?”

“You don’t need to ask,” he said.

She leaned over, put her fingertips on his face, and drew him to her.

Her lips were firm and purposeful, and her tongue lay in waiting, darting into his mouth from time to time. He snaked an arm around her and pulled her
closer, but she broke off the kiss and looked at her watch.

“Uh-oh, our dinner’s getting cold.” She stood up and threw him his coat. “To be continued after Chinese food. I’ll set the table and make some tea. Hurry.”

Stone got into his coat.

“Here,” she said, “take my key, so I won’t have to buzz you in.” She handed it to him.

Stone pocketed the key, kissed her quickly, and left the apartment. It was a block and a half to the restaurant, and he had to wait a bit for the food. It came in a large paper bag, and he paid and left, walking quickly back to the apartment house. He let himself in, went to the elevator, and pressed the button. He looked up at the lights and saw that the elevator was on the top floor. Shortly, it began to move. Elevators in short buildings moved slowly, he reflected. It stopped on the sixth floor, then began moving down again, finally reaching the ground floor. Stone pressed
PH
and the car crept upward.

He let himself into the apartment. Music was playing, and a loud whistling noise emanated from the kitchen. The kettle was boiling. He set the food down on the dining table, shucked off his coat, and walked toward the whistling noise. The kitchen light was off, and the single living-room lamp didn’t offer much illumination. He groped for the light switch but couldn’t find it. Blindly, he groped his way toward the stove, aiming at the gas flame.
Susan must be in the john,
he thought. Now that he was closer, the kettle’s whistle had become a scream.

He took another step, and, suddenly, he was slipping, falling. He hit the floor with a
thump,
groaning, as his elbow took most of his weight. He put a hand on the floor to help himself up, but it was slippery, and he fell again. She had apparently spilled something on the floor. The kettle screamed on.

He grabbed hold of the kitchen counter, hoisted himself to his feet, and turned off the gas jet. Slowly, the scream died. He groped his way back toward the kitchen door, holding on to the counter, and felt again for the light switch. This time he found it and turned it on.

He looked at his hands, dumbfounded. They were covered in red paint. Slowly, still holding on to keep from slipping, he turned and looked back into the kitchen. The paint was everywhere, but it wasn’t paint.

Susan Bean lay on her back next to the wall, staring at the ceiling. Her throat gaped open. He made himself move toward her, knelt at her side, and felt her wrist for a pulse. Nothing. There was no point it trying CPR, he realized. Close up, he could see that she had been very nearly decapitated.

Stone got shakily to his feet, holding on to whatever he could for support. He made it to the kitchen phone, picked it up, and started to call Dino’s cell phone, then he stopped.

“No,” he said aloud. He dialed 911.

“What is your emergency?” a woman’s voice said.

“Is the tape rolling?” he asked.

“You’re being recorded, sir; what is your emergency?”

“My name is Stone Barrington; I’m a retired police officer. I’ve got a homicide in the top-floor apartment at…” He looked around for something, found a gas bill, and gave her the address. “White female, age thirty-two, name of Susan Bean. I need homicide detectives and the coroner.”

“I’ve got it, Mr. Barrington.”

“Oh…tell the squad car that the perpetrator is probably a lone male, on foot, and that he’s probably still in the neighborhood.”

“Got it. They’re on their way.”

Stone hung up and dialed Dino’s cell phone.

“Bacchetti,” Dino’s voice said. There was party noise in the background.

“It’s Stone; I’m sitting on a homicide about three blocks from the party.” He read the address off the gas bill again.

“Have you called nine-one-one?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“I think the perp was in the building when I got here, and I’ll bet he’s still in the neighborhood.”

“I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t start working the scene, Stone; let my people do that.”

“Right.”

“I’m on my way.”

Stone hung up, sat on a chair at the dining table, and tried not to think about what was in the next room. He was badly shaken. He’d seen a lot of dead bodies in his years as a homicide detective, but never one that had just kissed him.

3

T
WO DETECTIVES ARRIVED FIRST. STONE
let them in and pointed at the kitchen. “She’s in there,” he said, then sat down at the dining table again. They went into the kitchen, then came right out again. One was a big guy, six-three or -four; the other was much shorter, stocky, florid-faced.

“Stand up,” the shorter one said to Stone.

“What?”

“
Stand up!
”

Stone stood up.

The shorter cop swung a right and caught Stone under the ear.

Stone spun to his right and fell onto the tabletop. Before he could move both cops were on him, handcuffing him. “What the hell are you doing?” Stone demanded.

They sat him back in the chair, and the short cop hit him again. “Murdering bastard!” the cop said, and
then his larger partner restrained him.

“Easy, Mick,” the bigger man said. “You’ll mark him, and we don’t want that.”

Stone sat still, saying nothing.

“Why’d you kill her?” the short one demanded.

“I didn’t kill her; I found her as she is,” Stone said.

“Then why is her blood all over you?” he said, raising his fist again.

The bigger detective caught his wrist. “Mick,” he said quietly, “don’t make me cuff you.”

The smaller cop shot him a murderous glance. “Just try it,” he said.

“Stand away from him,” the bigger man said.

Reluctantly, the short cop backed away.

“Sorry about that, sir,” the large cop said. “I’m Detective Anderson, and this is Detective Kelly.” He took out a notebook. “What is your name?”

“Stone Barrington.”

Anderson looked up from his notebook and paused for a moment. “You want to tell me what happened here, Mr. Barrington?”

“I went out for Chinese food; I came back and found her as she is. I slipped on the kitchen floor and fell, that’s why I’m bloody. I called nine-one-one.”

“Lying fuck!” Kelly said, and started toward Stone again.

Anderson put a hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall. “I’m not going to tell you again, Mick.”

There was a loud hammering on the door.

“Get that,” Anderson said to his partner, shoving him toward the door.

Kelly yanked open the door and Dino Bacchetti walked in. He looked around. “Where’s the corpse?” he asked.

“In there, Lieutenant,” Kelly said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

“Stone, are you okay?” Dino asked.

“I’m cuffed,” Stone replied.

“Kelly, get the cuffs off that man,” Dino said.

“But Lieutenant…”

“Do it.”

Kelly dug out his keys and took the handcuffs off.

Stone stood up, rubbing his wrists; then he hit Kelly squarely in the nose, sending him sprawling.

“All right,” Dino said, “everybody calm down.” Kelly was scrambling to his feet, blood streaming from his nose, heading for Stone. Dino hit him in the forehead with his open palm, knocking him down again. “I said calm down.” Kelly got up more slowly this time. Dino turned to Anderson. “Did you see any of that, Andy?”

“See what?” Anderson asked.

Dino walked over to Stone and examined his jaw. “You okay?”

“I’m okay now,” Stone said.

“You’re covered in blood; any of it yours?”

“No.”

“All right, everybody take a seat, and let’s find out what happened.”

The four men sat down at the table.

Kelly dabbed a handkerchief at the blood on his face. “I think he broke my fucking nose,” he said to nobody in particular.

“Good,” Stone said.

“Andy,” Dino said.

Anderson placed his notebook on the table. “Let’s start again,” he said. “Can I have your address, Mr. Barrington?”

Stone gave him his address, then began at the beginning, at Martin Brougham’s party, and brought everybody up-to-date. While he was talking, two uniformed cops arrived, along with two EMTs and somebody from the medical examiner’s office.

Anderson reached over to the bag of Chinese food, ripped off the check stapled to the bag, and handed it to a uniform. “Go over to this restaurant, find out who ordered this food and when, who picked it up and when, and get a description,” he said.