Worst Fears Realized (3 page)

The cop left with the check.

Stone resumed his story.

Anderson waited for Stone to finish. “Is that it?” he asked.

“One other thing: I think the perp was still in the building when I got back with the food.”

“Why do you think that?”

“When I rang for the elevator, it was on the top floor, and this is the only apartment on twelve. The elevator moved down to six, stopped, then continued to the ground floor. Where was it when you got here?”

“On the ground floor,” Anderson said.

“Then, unless another tenant or a visitor used the elevator between the time I got to this floor and the time you arrived, the perp waited on six until the car stopped up here and I got out, then he rang for it
again and rode it down to the ground floor.”

“Pretty cool,” Dino said.

“Yes, pretty cool,” Stone agreed.

The uniformed cop returned. “A Miss Bean ordered the food by phone; the time is written on the check, right here,” he said, placing the check on the table. “A man arrived to pick up the food half an hour later, waited five minutes, paid for it, and left. He was over six feet, blond hair, medium to heavy build, dressed in a raincoat.”

Anderson looked at the check and did some mental calculating. “That checks with your story, Mr. Barrington,” he said.

“Measure the water in the kettle,” Stone said.

“What?”

“When I left, Susan said she was going to make some tea. Let’s find out how long it takes for the same amount of water to boil. That might help with the time frame.”

“Do it, Mick,” Anderson said. Kelly got up and went into the kitchen.

They continued talking until the kettle started to whistle. Anderson looked at his watch. “I make it three and a half minutes.”

“How much water was in the kettle?” Stone asked Kelly.

“A little under three cups,” Kelly replied sullenly.

“Here’s one scenario, then,” Stone said. “The killer arrives shortly after I leave. Within three and a half minutes. He kills her, then the kettle starts whistling. He turns off the kettle.”

“Why?” Kelly asked.

“Because nobody can stand around and listen to a kettle screaming like that,” Stone said. “Let’s see, five minutes for me to walk to the restaurant, I wait five minutes, and five minutes to come back, say fifteen to eighteen minutes. And when I get back, the killer is still in the apartment, maybe. So if he is, what does he do for fifteen minutes?”

“Searches the place,” Anderson said. “A robbery, maybe.”

The second uniform spoke up. “I had a look in the bedroom,” he said. “Neat as a pin. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser with some nice-looking stuff in it.”

“So it wasn’t a robbery,” Anderson said. “What was he looking for?”

“Something of value only to him,” Dino replied, standing up and walking to a desk in the living room. He opened the drawers one at a time, including a file drawer, then came back. “Everything is neat. No way to tell if the killer found something.”

Kelly spoke up. “And the killer turned on the kettle again before he left? What for?”

“To screw up our timeline,” Stone said. “He wanted us to think that he killed her, then left immediately. I think he followed us from Brougham’s place, or at least, picked us up on the street en route.”

“Did you see anybody?” Dino asked.

“No, but it seems to me that he followed us, waited for me to leave, then went upstairs.”

“How’d he get in?” Kelly asked.

“Rang the bell; maybe she thought it was me, even though she had given me the key.”

“And she let him in?”

“Maybe he forced his way in, or maybe she knew him,” Stone said.

“How’d he know when you were coming back?” Kelly asked.

“He didn’t; he thought I’d left to go home. He got lucky. I’ll bet he was getting on the elevator when I rang for it. Must have scared him.”

“Maybe,” Dino said. “Andy, send your patrolmen to talk to everybody in the building. Find out who came and went, and what time.”

“Right, Lieutenant,” Anderson said.

Dino looked at his watch. “I think it’s time to wake up Martin Brougham,” he said.

“The DA guy?” Kelly asked. “What for?”

“I want to take a look at her office,” Dino said. “Come on, Stone; I’ll drive you home; we can’t have you out on the streets with blood all over you. You’d just get arrested.” He turned to Kelly. “Apologize to Mr. Barrington for your behavior.”

Kelly turned beet red. “I apologize,” he said. “I thought you were the perp.”

“Something you should know, Mick,” Anderson said. “Mr. Barrington used to be a detective in the Nineteenth; he was Lieutenant Bacchetti’s partner.”

Kelly’s face fell. “I really am sorry,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Sorry about your nose,” Stone said. He took care not to sound as if he meant it.

4

S
TONE WAS AWAKENED BY A RINGING
telephone. He rolled over, opened an eye, and looked at the bedside clock. Just past ten. He sat up on one elbow. He had been wide-awake until at least four, unable to sleep with the picture of Susan Bean’s body stuck in his mind. Finally, he had drifted off and overslept. He picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Morning.”

“You get any sleep?”

“Some. You find anything in Susan’s office?”

“Everything was neat as a pin, just like the apartment; nothing missing that anybody could figure. Brougham was pretty upset. Apparently, he depended on her a lot.”

“Anything on the murder?”

“Nothing yet, but whoever used the elevator when
you came back was the perp. Nobody else in the building had budged from their apartments.”

“Not that it does us any good.”

“No. There were no prints, no evidence of any kind.”

“He had to have a lot of blood on him,” Stone said.

“You’re right, but the patrol cars didn’t come across anybody. Listen, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Where’s Alma?”

Alma was Stone’s secretary, who had worked for him almost since the moment he had begun to practice law, after leaving the NYPD. “She should be in her office,” Stone replied.

“Put me on hold and call down there,” Dino said.

Stone pressed the
HOLD
button, then dialed Alma’s extension. There was no answer. He pressed line one again. “She’s not answering. She worked late last night, typing up a brief for me, so she could have overslept, I guess.”

“A woman matching her description was attacked on the sidewalk in your block last night sometime after midnight, when we were at the Bean apartment. She took something like a claw hammer in the head.”

Stone sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Where is she and how bad?”

“Lenox Hill, and it doesn’t look good. Does she have any family?”

“A sister in Westchester, and that’s it,” Stone said.

“She wasn’t carrying any ID, but she was wearing a Cartier watch that sounds like the one you gave her.”

“I’ll get up to Lenox Hill right now,” Stone said.

“Let me know if it’s Alma,” Dino replied, then hung up.

Stone got dressed in a hurry, gave his bloody clothes from the night before to his housekeeper to take to the cleaner’s, took a cab up to Lenox Hill Hospital, and presented himself at the main desk.

“My name is Stone Barrington,” he told the woman behind the desk. “The police called me this morning to say that a woman answering the description of my secretary was admitted last night with a head wound. I’d like to see her right away.”

“Just a minute, please,” the woman said. She dialed a number and spoke for a moment, then hung up. “Dr. Thompson will be with you in just a minute,” she said. “Please have a seat.”

Stone paced until the doctor turned up five minutes later. They shook hands. “I’d like to see the Jane Doe brought in last night,” he said. “She may be my secretary, Alma Hodges.”

“Describe your secretary,” the doctor said.

“Five-seven, a hundred and forty, early fifties, dark hair going gray, wearing a pin-striped suit.”

The doctor nodded. “Sounds like her. I’m sorry to tell you she died twenty minutes ago.”

Stone slumped.

“Her injuries were massive,” the doctor said. “She was struck at least half a dozen times with a blunt object, perhaps a hammer. The police thought it was a robbery, since she had no handbag or identification.”

“I’d better see her,” Stone said.

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” the doctor replied.

They rode the elevator down to the basement, and the doctor led the way to the morgue. The tray was pulled out of the refrigerator and the sheet pulled back.

She looked utterly peaceful, Stone thought, and quite beautiful. He was glad he didn’t have to look at the back of her head. He nodded. “That’s Alma Hodges,” he said.

“Did she have any family?” the doctor asked.

“A sister. I’ll speak to her; then I’ll make some arrangements.”

“An autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon; I should think the body will be ready for release first thing in the morning.”

Stone thanked the doctor and left the hospital. He took a cab home and went down to his office. Alma’s desk was in perfect order, his brief stacked neatly on top, with a note saying,
SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.

Stone sat down heavily at her desk, found her phone book and her sister’s number. He broke the news as gently as he could and said he’d be glad to see to the arrangements. The woman thanked him and said that her brother-in-law was a mortician and she’d have him take care of it. Stone expressed his condolences and told the woman how loyal and valuable Alma had been to him and how much he would miss her. Finally, he was able to hang up, drained from the experience. The phone rang almost immediately.

“Stone Barrington,” he said.

“Morning, Stone, it’s Frank Maddox,” a man’s voice said. Maddox was the attorney for the insurance company Stone was suing.

“Yes, Frank?”

“My client has authorized me to offer your client half a million dollars.”

“Unacceptable,” Stone said. He had already thought out his strategy in responding to an offer. “I’m ready to go to trial.” He was anything but ready, he thought. “I’ll pass your offer on to my client, but with a strong recommendation that it be rejected.”

Maddox sighed. “What’s it going to take, Stone? Give me a realistic number, and I’ll go back to my client.”

“It’s going to take a million dollars, plus a three-hundred-thousand-dollar attorney’s fee, and that’s bottom line, Frank. Don’t bother with a counteroffer; just show up in court tomorrow.”

“Hold on, Stone.” Maddox punched the
HOLD
button.

Stone waited. Maddox was obviously with his client.

Shortly, the lawyer came back on. “Done,” he said.

“I’ll want your check by close of business today,” Stone said. “I’m not canceling our court date until the money is in the bank.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Maddox said. “I’ll messenger it over to your office this afternoon.”

“Send it to Bill Eggers at Woodman and Weld,” Stone said. “I may be out this afternoon, and my secretary isn’t in today.”

“Fine; I’ll include the usual release.” Maddox hung up.

Stone called Woodman & Weld and asked for Bill Eggers, the managing partner.

“Bill Eggers.”

“Bill, it’s Stone.”

“Morning, Stone. You going to trial tomorrow?”

“They’ve just settled for a million, plus my fee. The check is coming to you this afternoon. Will you let the client know? I’d call her myself, but it’s a very bad day.”

“Sure, I’ll call her. I think it’s a hell of a settlement. What’s wrong?”

“Alma was attacked on the street last night, after leaving work; she died this morning.”

“Oh, Jesus, Stone, I’m so sorry. I know how close you were.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty shaken. I think I’m just going to shut down the phones and take the day.”

“You do that. You want me to find somebody to help you out with the work? I can speak to our personnel director.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Stone said. “But don’t send anybody until tomorrow.”

“Fine. Again, I’m sorry, Stone. You take it easy.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Stone hung up. He should have been elated at the settlement and a rich fee, but he felt nothing but depression. Two women he knew, one of whom he had been very close to, had been murdered within twelve hours of each other. He switched on his answering machine and recorded a new message. “This is Stone Barrington. I won’t be taking any calls today, but if you’ll leave a message, I’ll return your call tomorrow.”

He trudged back upstairs, switched off his phone, and fell into bed, exhausted.

5

S
TONE GOT UP AS DARKNESS WAS FALLING.
He got into some khaki trousers, a shirt, and some moccasins, then went to the kitchenette in the master suite and made himself a cup of tea, with a large dollop of honey. He took the mug down one floor to his study and sat in one of a pair of wing chairs before the window overlooking the garden. The doorbell rang; Stone picked up the phone beside his chair. “Yes?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Come on in; I’m in the study.” He pressed the button on the phone that opened the front door.

Dino walked into the study and threw his coat on the sofa.

“Hi. Want a cup of tea?”

“I want a cup of scotch,” Dino replied.

“Help yourself.”

Dino went to the little wet bar concealed behind a
panel and fixed himself a scotch on the rocks, then came and sat down in the chair next to Stone’s. “How about some lights?” Dino said.

“I like it this way at dusk,” Stone replied. “Leave it for a few minutes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody worked me over with a baseball bat.”

“You went to the hospital?”

“Yeah; it was Alma. Sorry, I forgot to call and tell you.”

“A citizen found her handbag in a wastebasket a couple of blocks away. There was over a hundred bucks in it, plus her credit cards.”

“Nothing at all taken?”

“Not that we can figure.”