by Stuart Woods
“A perfectly good reason. What’s your second?”
“I’ve already made the arrangements.”
“Where?”
“At Sal’s home. I don’t know where it is. I’m leaving that to the contractor.”
Jack wrote something on a pad and gave it to Stone. “Here’s his address. Memorize it, then shred and burn it.”
Stone memorized it, then fed it into the shredder under his desk.
“Who’s the contractor?”
“Hilda Ross.”
Jack looked surprised “And you trust her? Hilda killed Cara, and she knows you sent Cara.”
“We’ve gotten past that,” Stone said.
“How does somebody get ‘past that’?”
“Greed, for one thing. I’m paying her a hundred thousand, and I’ve already given her the first fifty. Greed is her motive. That, and her deep hatred for Sal.”
“What makes you think she hasn’t been hired by Sal to kill you?” Jack asked.
“It would not shock me to hear that Sal had done that, nor that Hilda had taken the contract. She likes money, and she wouldn’t mind taking it from both ends of the deal.”
“How did you come to this arrangement with Hilda?”
“I saw her last night, in circumstances where it would have been unwise to kill me, and I gave her the first fifty thousand. Then I got the hell out of there, before she could change her mind. I was also repulsed when she told me how she killed Cara.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Not unless you want to get sick, but maybe you have a stronger stomach than I.”
Jack held up a hand. “No, please. I was fond of the girl.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, how is Hilda going to pull this off?”
“She already has a dinner date with him tonight at his place, where he likes to order in pizza from Domino’s. I’ll leave the rest to her. Oh, she did mention that she’d use a straight razor.”
“Then she’d better do it in the bathtub, or she’ll have a very messy crime scene on her hands.”
“She has some history of working in a bathroom.”
Jack threw up both hands this time. “No, don’t tell me. I’ll never be able to take a bath again.”
Stone remembered that he himself had been reluctant to take a shower that morning, but he had handled it.
“How are you going to verify that Sal is dead?”
“She’s going to e-mail me photographs.”
“I thought you had a weak stomach.”
“Strong enough for that,” Stone said. “Do you want to see them?”
“It’s not my contract, so no. You should erase them immediately, anyway, and restart your phone.”
“I’ll do that.”
“I’ll be relieved if this works out,” Jack said. “Then I can go back to being a solid citizen.”
“More than that, Jack. You’re a class act.”
“Thank you for that assessment,” Jack said, rising, “and for the coffee, too.”
“You’re very welcome for both,” Stone said, shaking his hand.
“Let me know how it goes,” Jack said, as he left.
“I will.”
55
Stone sat Fred Flicker down and talked to him. “Here’s what we need to do,” he said.
Fred leaned forward attentively.
“Here’s the address where the events of this evening are centered. You don’t go inside, but I’d like you to park the car within sight of it, if that is possible. Dinner will be delivered to the house from a Domino’s Pizza, presumably from the one closest to the house. That will indicate that the game is afoot. It would be a good time for you to maneuver closer to the house, then call me and give me the exact address where you are parked.”
“Right.”
“When I get the call, I’ll give a woman the address. She will leave the house, find the car, and rap twice on the trunk lid. When that happens, press the button to open it, and she will take a package from the trunk, which is already there. Then she’ll close the lid and walk away. After that you will come home and park in the garage. Got it?”
Fred repeated the sequence of the events. “Got it.”
“You should be on site no later than about seven o’clock.”
“Plenty of time,” Fred said, consulting his watch.
“Off with you, then,” Stone said. “Don’t ever get out of the car. Take a bottle to pee in, if necessary.”
“I understand, sir.” Fred let himself out of the office.
* * *
—
Stone met Dino at seven at the Polo Bar, Ralph Lauren’s restaurant, on East Fifty-Fifth Street, and they had their first drink at the bar.
“A special occasion?” Dino asked, looking around. It was the first time they had been there together.
“Sort of,” Stone said.
“This is an alibi, isn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?” Stone asked.
“Because you look like a guy who needs an alibi.”
“Stop being so goddamned prescient,” Stone said. “I’m where I am, that’s all, and in the company of the police commissioner of the City of New York.” He looked at his watch. “And it’s seven-forty pm.”
“Your alibi is established,” Dino said. “As long as you don’t leave too early.”
Ten minutes later, they were shown to their table. Stone had requested one in the bar, so they could better see and be seen. A few minutes later, the mayor came into the restaurant with his wife and another couple. He stopped by their table and spoke to Stone and Dino.
“Dino,” he said, “if you can afford to dine here, you’re under arrest,” said the mayor, a former police commissioner himself.
“He’s paying,” Dino replied, jerking a thumb toward Stone.
The mayor continued to his own table. “Your alibi is cemented in place,” Dino said.
“If I should need one,” Stone replied.
At a little past eight o’clock, Stone’s iPhone vibrated, and he checked his messages. From Fred: Domino’s arrived and departed.
Stone deleted the text, then made sure it wasn’t in his trash file.
“Everything on schedule?” Dino asked.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Stone replied.
* * *
—
Finally, it was ten o’clock, and they were finishing dessert. Stone checked his watch again. His phone vibrated.
Nothing, Fred said.
Are you on site?
Fred gave him the address.
Stone deleted the messages and hung up.
“Everything is not on schedule,” Dino said. “What time was it supposed to happen?”
“By nine o’clock,” Stone said. “If, indeed, anything was supposed to happen.”
Dino put down his spoon and finished his coffee. “Something went wrong,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
They went outside and got into Dino’s big SUV, where he put up the glass partition separating them from the driver’s ears.
“You want to tell me what’s not happening?” Dino asked.
“See if anything has been called in from around Tompkins Square Park,” Stone said.
Dino called a number and spoke a few words. “And tell them not to touch anything until I get there.” He hung up. “Now you’re the one who’s prescient,” he said. He rolled down the partition and gave his driver the address.
Stone texted Fred. Abort. Go home.
* * *
—
They rolled up to Tompkins Square. They had been preceded by two patrol cars, an ambulance, and the medical examiner’s wagon.
Dino led the way into the building through the front door, where
a patrolman was on guard. There was a Domino’s box on the living room coffee table, with a couple of slices left untouched.
“In there,” a detective said to Dino, pointing toward a bedroom.
Dino led the way through the bedroom and into a roomy bathroom that featured a large claw-foot tub that appeared to be filled with blood. They stepped up to the edge and looked down. “That’s Sal Trafficante,” Stone said quietly to Dino. He knew the woman was Hilda Ross, but he didn’t want to be heard saying so.
Sal lay on his back, a cut across his jugular vein just visible. The woman, who was draped over the tub, facedown in the red water, had an ice pick buried in her back, up to the hilt.
“Do you recognize the woman?” Dino asked.
“Nope.”
Dino turned to the ME. “Can we see her face without disturbing your scene?”
The ME stepped over, took the body by the hair, and pulled her head up just far enough to reveal her face.
“Know her?” Dino asked Stone.
“Nope.”
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Dino said. “Continue as you were.” He led the way out of the bathroom and the house. When they were about to get into the car, he said, “It was Hilda, right?”
“Maybe,” Stone said. “I can’t be sure.”
Dino snorted and got into the car. “Let’s go,” he said. “To Barrington’s house.”
“Not yet,” Stone said. “Let’s go to the Carlyle.”
“To the Carlyle Hotel,” Dino said to the driver, then turned toward Stone. “What the fuck for?”
“Burglary,” Stone said.
56
Dino’s driver parked near the Carlyle’s Seventy-Sixth Street entrance. Stone led the way inside, to an elevator without an operator. He took a plastic card from his jacket pocket, inserted it into a slot, then tapped in the number of the floor, two below their destination. Once there, they walked up two flights of stairs, and Stone used the card to let them into Hilda’s suite.
“Where’d you get the key card?” Dino asked.
“I stole it when I was here last night.” He led the way into the bedroom and opened a closet door, revealing a safe on an upper shelf.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Dino said. “Do you know how hard it is to get into a hotel safe without the code? You gotta get a guy up here with a drill, and they end up having to replace the door. We don’t need the attention.”
Stone reached up, tapped in a code, and the safe opened.
“How’d you do that?” Dino asked.
“I watched her open it last night.” He opened the door wide, and it was filled with stacks of bank notes. He found a briefcase, put it on the bed, opened it, and examined the contents. “Nothing of any consequence,” he said, emptying the case into a bedside trash basket, then he began removing stacks from the safe and packing them into the briefcase. “Just big enough,” he said, closing the case and snapping it shut.
“How much is in there?” Dino asked.
“Seventy-five thousand, give or take.”
“Why do you want it?”
“It’s mine. And my fingerprints and Joan’s are all over it.”
They were both frozen in their tracks when a deep voice behind them said, “What the hell are you doing?”
They turned to find a large man standing in the doorway, lit from behind by the living room lights.
Stone let out his breath. “I’m stealing back my money, Jack,” he said. “Now what the hell are you doing here?”
“I wanted to go through the place and be sure there’s nothing here to incriminate you.”
“Trust me, there isn’t.”
“I know what’s happened,” Jack said.
“Okay,” Dino said. “What’s happened, and how do you know about it?”
“Sal and Hilda are both dead, each by the other’s hand, it seems.”
“Keep going,” Dino said.
“Very unusual for two people to off each other simultaneously, but that’s what appears to have happened.”
“I’ll let you know the official position on that after I’ve heard from the ME,” Dino said.
“I’d appreciate that. I’m curious to know.”
“How did you get in here?” Stone asked.
“Ancient burglary skills. Thank you for getting the safe open. I don’t have that skill, and I was about to call a safecracker.”
“Don’t mention it,” Stone said. “And I mean that. Not to anybody.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Did you find anything incriminating here?” Stone asked.
“No, but I’d wipe the doorknob on your way out.”
“Are you staying, Jack?”
“Just for a short time. I’ll wipe down any prints I see that are larger than a woman’s.”
Stone took out his pocket square and wiped down the safe. “Save you the trouble,” he said.
“Ready, Dino?”
“There’s nothing for me here.”
“Then let’s go.” They left, and Stone wiped down the doorknob. They walked down two flights, then took the elevator to the lobby and walked back to Dino’s cruiser.
“Barrington’s house,” Dino said to his driver, then rolled up the partition between them. Shortly, they pulled up in front of Stone’s house.
“How about a nightcap?” Stone said.
“You talked me into it,” Dino replied.
They went into Stone’s study, where Stone set the briefcase on the coffee table and then poured them both a cognac.
As they sat down, Fred rapped on the doorjamb. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Come in, Fred.”
“May I speak to you alone, sir?”
“It’s okay. The commissioner is bought and paid for.”
“I just wanted to tell you what happened.”
“All right.”
“I was parked half a block away, and at about eight-fifteen, a Domino’s delivery vehicle pulled up, and the driver got out and rang the bell. A man came to the door and the pizza and some money changed hands, then the driver left.”
“And then?”
“Nothing. That was it.”
“Hear anything?”
“No, sir. Sitting in the Bentley with the motor running, it was pretty quiet.”
“Right. That will be all, Fred. Good night.”
“Good night, sir,” Fred replied, then disappeared.
When he had gone, Dino said. “It’s an expensive briefcase. What are you going to do with it?”
“Yes, it’s from Hermès, handmade, probably cost eight or ten thousand dollars.”
“It would attract too much attention, if you tossed it into a dumpster.”
“Good point. Do you want it?”
“I’d like Viv to think that I spent that much money on a birthday gift for her. It’s next week.”
Stone opened the briefcase, stacked the money inside his concealed safe, then handed the briefcase to Dino. “There you go. Wish her a happy birthday from me.”
“Not from you, from me,” Dino said, examining the case closely. “Not a mark on it.”
“I’d wipe it down with a little saddle soap, inside and out. Can you steal an Hermès box from somewhere?”
“I was counting on you for that.”
“I’ll have Joan look around. She saves things like that.”
“Good idea.”
“Anyway, now your lips are sealed.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Now, you’re officially an accomplice.”
“To what?”
“To anything I might be charged with,” Stone said.
57
The following morning Stone felt like running. Normally, he worked out in his home gym, but it was a beautiful day, and Bob could u
se the workout, too. Besides, for the first time in a while, nobody was trying to kill him. He had tried to interest Bob in the treadmill, but the two had not become friends.
He dressed in his running garb, and put on a belt holding a pouch, into which he put a facecloth, his phone, some cash, and a small wallet with his driver’s license and credit cards, then he clipped Bob’s expandable leash to his collar, and they left the house. He went unarmed for the first time in many days.
Stone’s gait and Bob’s meshed easily, and they both ran at a good lope. They headed uptown and entered Central Park, where Stone took a breather on a park bench, and Bob lay down beside him, panting.
Stone’s cell phone rang: Caller Unknown. “Hello?”
“Stay where you are,” Jack said. “I’m going to come and sit beside you, but don’t acknowledge my presence.” He hung up before Stone could reply.
Five minutes later, someone sat down at the other end of Stone’s park bench and opened a New York Times. “Good morning,” Jack said.
“Right,” Stone said, looking the other way.
“I’ve some things to tell you,” Jack said, “and it’s going to take a few minutes. When I’m done, resume your run, and I’ll keep reading my paper until you’re out of sight.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” Stone asked. “I mean, half an hour ago, I didn’t know.”
“I was sitting on my terrace, as I often do, checking out the people in the park with my binoculars, when you ran into my field of vision and sat down. Now, are you ready to listen?”
“Yes,” Stone wiped his face and neck with a facecloth from his bag.
“I cleaned up more than the Carlyle suite last night,” he said. “I cleaned up Sal Trafficante’s house, too, to the extent that it needed cleaning up. Or rather, I had it cleaned, by somebody whose knowledge of police procedure exceeds mine. I’m speaking of Michael O’Brien, who, as I expected, had found the perfect horse and bet big on it. I offered him fifty thousand dollars to kill Sal and Hilda. I took the money to his house and showed it to him, then sent him to Sal’s place, which is right around the corner from Michael’s. This was about nine-thirty. He called me and told me they were already dead. I told him I’d still give him the money. He said he’d make the crime scene cop-proof, then he returned to his own house, where I had done some things in his absence.”