D.C. Dead

by Stuart Woods

  “Well, I don’t know if they were numerous,” she said. “I know of only one other.”

  “And who would that be?” Stone asked, pen poised.

  “I’ve heard that Milly Hart and Brix were surreptitiously seeing each other for a while. With a y,” she said helpfully. “In the afternoons.”

  “And her address?”

  “The next block,” she said, pointing again. “Second on the left, with a black door.”

  “Any others at all?” Stone asked.

  “Not that I am aware of,” she replied.

  Stone stood. “Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Trask. I’m sorry to have intruded on your afternoon.”

  She shrugged. “Anything for the president,” she said.

  THE TRASK DOOR CLOSED behind them, and they got into the car.

  “I know the way,” Dino said, starting the car.

  They found a parking place on the street, and as they were about to get out of the car, Stone pointed at the house with the window boxes. A well-dressed man carrying a briefcase was closing the door behind him and walking down the front steps. “Well, at least we won’t have to deal with Mr. Brandon.”

  “How do we know that’s Mr. Brandon?” Dino asked.

  “You have a point.”

  They waited until the putative Mr. Brandon had cleared the block, then they walked to the house and rang the bell. Almost immediately, it was opened by a woman in a Chanel suit.

  “Mrs. Brandon?” Stone said. “I am—”

  “I know who you are,” she said quickly. “Come inside before anyone sees you.” She closed the door behind her. “Betty Trask called just now. You narrowly missed my husband, thank God! Come in here.” She led the way to a cozy, paneled study, seated them, then closed the door. “Now,” she said, perching on a small chair, “what do you want?”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Trask told you why we’re here,” Stone said.

  “Well, of course she did,” Mrs. Brandon replied. “But what do you want from me? Brix Kendrick is dead and confessed in a letter, or so I read in the Post. A year has passed. Why are you dragging me into this?”

  “Mrs. Brandon, you dragged yourself into this when you had an affair with Mr. Kendrick. We’re simply investigating the circumstances of his and his wife’s deaths, and we hope you can help us. This is not for publication.”

  “Oh, all right, what do you want?”

  “How long were you and Mr. Kendrick, ah, seeing each other?”

  “About two and a half months,” she said.

  “And where did you meet?”

  “Here, in this house. Brix would leave the White House in the afternoons and come here for an hour or so. Do you want to know what we did?”

  Stone ignored the question. “Do you know of anyone else Mr. Kendrick was seeing?”

  “Milly Hart,” she said. “She was before me. He admitted that to me.”

  “Were you jealous of Mrs. Hart?”

  “Certainly not!” she said indignantly. “Why would I be jealous of that little tramp?”

  “Are you aware that Milly Hart was having an affair with anyone besides Brixton Kendrick?”

  She thought for a moment. “No,” she murmured, aware that she had just called herself a tramp.

  “Mrs. Brandon, what were your movements on the day Mrs. Kendrick died?”

  “Am I a suspect? Am I under arrest? I want an attorney.”

  “Mrs. Brandon, you’ve been watching too much Law & Order. It’s a simple question: where were you that day?”

  “All day?”

  “That would be helpful.”

  “I slept late, then I went to my monthly garden club luncheon.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “From noon until around three. I was giving a presentation. After that, I had tea at a friend’s house, and no, I will not tell you who that was, until we’re in a courtroom.”

  “Did you see Mr. Kendrick at all that day?”

  “No, I did not. The last time was the day before.”

  “How would you describe his frame of mind?” Stone asked.

  “Serene. Brix was always serene. That’s why I was surprised he killed himself.”

  “Why do you think he killed himself?”

  “I should think it was obvious. He killed his own wife, for God’s sake!”

  “Did it surprise you when you heard of her death?”

  “Of course it surprised me.”

  “Did you think Mr. Kendrick was the sort of man who would kill his wife?”

  “Certainly not! Not for a moment.”

  “Did he ever say to you that he wanted out of his marriage?”

  “No, never. He and Mimi were devoted to each other. He just had a very powerful sex drive.”

  Stone closed his notebook. “Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Brandon,” he said. “Can you tell me where Milly Hart lives?”

  “Certainly not, I barely know the woman.”

  She led them to the door, and after looking both ways up and down the street, she let them out without a word and slammed the door behind them.

  “WELL, THAT WAS USEFUL,” Dino said.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Dino.”

  “What are we doing here?” Dino asked. “Every time somebody asks us what we want, I don’t know what to tell them.”

  “Let’s go find Milly Hart,” Stone said.

  20

  DINO STARTED THE CAR. “OKAY, TELL ME WHERE MILLY HART lives.”

  “I don’t know where she lives,” Stone replied.

  “Why do you think I know where she lives?”

  Stone got out his cell phone and called Fair Sutherlin’s direct line. Her secretary put him through.

  “Good afternoon, Stone. Did you have a nice lunch with the president?”

  “Very nice, thank you.”

  “You mean you enjoyed the food?”

  “He gave us lobster salad,” Stone said. “What’s not to enjoy?”

  “Wait until Kate hears about this.”

  “Oh, he had Kate’s diet lunch, while Dino and I gorged ourselves.”

  “I see. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. By the way, it’s not black tie.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that, since I didn’t bring a dinner jacket.”

  “What else can I do for you?” she asked, a leer in her voice.

  “I’ve heard that the White House operators can find anybody.”

  “That is perfectly so.”

  “Would you kindly ask them to find the address of a woman named Milly Hart? With a y?”

  “And who is Milly Hart with a y?”

  “Someone Brixton Kendrick may have been having an affair with.”

  There was a dead silence, for a slow count of about four. “Brix Kendrick was having an affair?”

  “At least one, maybe two.”

  “Good God! Who was the other one?”

  “I’m going to tell you only because I know our reports cross your desk anyway. The other one, confirmed, is Muffy Brandon.”

  “Holy shit!” Fair said. “How do you know this?”

  “It’s Washington. Also, she admitted it to us ten minutes ago.”

  “Does the president know?”

  “He knows of a rumor that Kendrick was having affairs. He doesn’t know with whom yet, unless the grapevine in this town is even faster than I thought.”

  “It is,” she said. “It moves faster than the speed of light, defying science.”

  “Then you should have Milly Hart’s address in a millisecond,” Stone said.

  “Hang on,” she said, and put him on hold.

  “You making any progress?” Dino asked. “With the address, I mean?”

  “I’ll have it in a millisecond,” Stone said.

  Fair came back on the line. “She lives at the Watergate apartments. Who is she?”

  “Didn’t the White House operator fill you in?”

  “I asked only for her address.”

  �
��Then you know just as much about her as I do,” Stone said. “See you tomorrow night.” He hung up. “She was flabbergasted to hear that Brix was having affairs,” he said to Dino.

  “I guess I’m the only guy in town who isn’t,” Dino said. “I always assume everybody is fucking everybody.”

  “That saves time,” Stone said. “Can you find the Watergate apartments on the map?”

  Dino consulted it. “Right by the Potomac River,” he said. “I’m on my way.” He put the car in gear.

  “Then I’ll come along for the ride.”

  “I ask>ENTRANCE TO THE APARTMENT house required a stop at a reception desk.

  “Milly Hart,” Stone said to the uniformed doorman.

  “Who shall I say is calling?”

  “Mr. Stone Barrington and Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti.”

  The man wrote down the names, then dialed a number and spoke for a moment. He covered the receiver with his hand. “She doesn’t know you,” he said.

  “May I speak with her?” Stone asked. The man handed him the phone. “Hello, Ms. Hart?”

  “Yes?” It was a low voice, nice to listen to.

  “This is Stone Barrington. I am here to speak to you at the request of the president of the United States.”

  “Really? Then give the phone to the doorman.”

  Stone did so, and the doorman gave him the apartment number and pointed him toward the elevators.

  “We know nothing about this lady?” Dino said. “Nothing you haven’t told me?”

  “Zip, Dino.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Dino, you’re sounding more like a wife at every turn.”

  The door opened directly into a handsome foyer, where a large arrangement of fresh flowers sat on an antique mahogany table.

  “Very classy,” Dino said.

  A door opened, and a uniformed maid, their second of the day, beckoned them in. “This way, please.”

  Milly Hart simultaneously entered the living room through another door and walked toward them. She was a striking redhead wearing a negligee with a matching silk dressing gown, right out of an Arlene Dahl movie. In fact, she resembled Arlene Dahl in one of her old films. “Mr. Barrington? Lieutenant Bacchetti? How do you do?” she said, with an accent right off the New York stage. She extended a perfectly manicured hand and allowed both of them to shake it, then waved them to a sofa and took a chair. “You’ve piqued my curiosity with talk of the president,” she said.

  “We’re speaking with you at his request.”

  “I’m flattered, but I’ve met the gentleman briefly only a few times, at White House dinners and such. What are you a lieutenant of?” she asked Dino. “I was expecting an army uniform.”

  “Of the New York City Police Department,” Dino replied.

  “Oh, dear,” she said. “I hope this isn’t about that parking ticket last winter. It was a hired car and driver, and I assumed his company would take care of it and bill me.”

  “No, ma’am,” Dino said. “It’s not about—”

  “Would you gentlemen like some tea?” she asked. “It isn’t too early, is it? Or would you prefer something more potent?”

  “Tea would be lovely, Ms. Hart,” Stone said.

  “Please call me Milly,” she said. “Absolutely everybody does.”

  “Thank you, Milly,” Stone said. “I assure you the president has not taken an interest in your parking tickets.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Frankly, I thought you were making that up to get past the doorman.”

  “No, the presidNo,y curiosent has asked us to look into the murder and apparent suicide of Emily and Brixton Kendrick.”

  For a moment, she nearly lost her composure, but she quickly recovered. “Really?”

  “Really. We understand that you and Mr. Kendrick were . . . close.”

  “And where did you come by that particular item?”

  “It’s Washington,” Dino said, looking pleased with himself.

  “Ah, yes, so it is. Am I suspected of murdering one or both of them?”

  “No, Milly,” Stone said. “We’re here because you and Brix Kendrick were having an affair.”

  “I remember the day the news broke,” she said, ignoring his remark. “I was in New York at the time.”

  “You spend a lot of time in New York, do you?” Dino asked.

  “I suppose I’m up there once a month, sometimes more often.”

  “We don’t need an alibi from you,” Stone said.

  “Then, pray tell, what do you need?”

  “We’d like to know who else Brix Kendrick was seeing.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said, “but I am not privy to that information. Frankly, Brix did not seem to be the sort who would have affairs.”

  “And yet you were having an affair with him,” Stone pointed out.

  “I mean, multiple affairs,” she replied. She still had not admitted her own affair, explicitly.

  “What else can you tell us about Brix?” Stone asked.

  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I have nothing else to tell you.” She looked at a diamond wristwatch adorning her slender wrist. “And I’m afraid I have forgotten another appointment for this hour. Will you gentlemen excuse me? I’m sorry about the tea.”

  She stood up, and the maid appeared as if on cue. “This way, gentlemen,” she said.

  Milly Hart turned and left the room witho

  ut another word.

  Stone and Dino found themselves in the entry hall, waiting for the elevator.

  “I wonder what she’s hiding,” Stone said.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Dino asked.

  “Get what?”

  “Milly Hart is a hooker.”

  21

  THEY GOT INTO THE ELEVATOR. “WHY ON EARTH DO YOU THINK Milly Hart is a hooker?” Stone asked.

  “Stone, sometimes you are so fucking naive.”

  “What?”

  “We go to see a woman without an appointment. She walks in clad in Hollywood lingerie, then, while we are questioning her, she suddenly remembers another appointment.”

  The elevator doors opened, and, standing before them was Muffy Brandon’s husband. They got off, and he got on.

  “Are you getting the picture now?” Dino asked.

  “I believe so,” Stone said. “I’m sorry to be so slow on the uptake.”

  “The No,y ze="3">“question is, how did Brixton Kendrick afford a high-priced hooker like Milly Hart? He was a government employee, for God’s sake.”

  “Private income?” Stone asked.

  “Not according to his son. Remember meeting him?”

  “Ah, yes, and he was terribly concerned about getting the max out of selling the old man’s house.”

  “And we’ve gotta be talking about at least a grand a pop for an hour of Milly Hart’s time.”

  “I don’t have any experience with rates for hookers,” Stone said.

  “Well, you’ve gotta admit that Milly is a rare beauty, especially in a town full of women like Betty Trask and Muffy Brandon.”

  “I can’t argue with that. I don’t suppose Brix Kendrick would have any trouble wanting her. Except that his days already seemed pretty full.”

  “Yeah,” Dino said, “he must have been short of time with Muffy waiting for him in the afternoons, and he couldn’t have been seeing somebody else in the evenings, because he was busy being an ideal husband. The question is, how could he get it up that often, at his age?”

  “How old was he?” Stone asked.

  “According to the FBI report, both he and Mimi were fifty-one, the age at which half of American men have what is politely called ‘erectile dysfunction.’”

  “Well, Brix was obviously not having those problems, because he was keeping at least two ladies happy on a regular basis.”

  “Maybe his wife had cut him off, for one reason or another,” Dino suggested. “And believe me, they don’t really need a reason.”

  �
��Horniness is not a motive for murder, especially when he couldn’t possibly have been horny.”

  “Shame is a motive for suicide, though,” Dino pointed out.

  “I guess,” Stone said.

  They got into the car.

  “Where to?” Dino asked.

  “Home, James. We’ve got nobody else to talk to, except each other.”

  TEDDY FAY AND LAUREN CADE finished cleaning their hangar apartment and got into a shower together.

  “You know,” she said, soaping Teddy’s back, “this place isn’t half bad.”

  “Have I ever asked you to live in a place that was half bad?”

  “No, you’ve done very well by me in that regard. Tell me, what are we going to do with ourselves in D.C.?”

  “Well,” Teddy said, starting to soap her front, “I’ve got some work to do on a couple of gadgets.” Teddy had made a fortune inventing kitchen tools that were sold on late-night television. “Gotta keep the money tap running.”

  “I won’t argue with you about that,” Lauren said. “I want to see the National Gallery and the Smithsonian. I’ve never been to Washington before.”

  “There are enough museums and galleries to keep you busy for a year,” Teddy said. “Not that I think we’ll be here for a year. I know you get antsy if you’re too far from a beach for too long. I just want to be here long enough to throw Todd Bacon and his crew off the track.”

  fonadgetsTODD BACON, AT THAT MOMENT, was in San Diego fielding phone calls from his team, and he was baffled by the result. They had found three instances of Cessna 182 RG landings at West Coast general aviation airports, but each of them had been traced to owners who were obviously not Teddy Fay.

  “You look puzzled,” his number two said.

  “Aren’t you? Where the hell did he go?”

  “Well, if he isn’t on the West Coast, that leaves forty-five other states where he could have landed. Oh, and did I

  mention Canada?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass,” Todd said.

  “Todd, if we don’t get a solid lead soon, they’re gonna pull the plug on us,” number two said. “We’re going to find ourselves in some South American jungle looking for drug factories, and I don’t like bugs and snakes.”