by Stuart Woods
“Your letter worked?” she asked, incredulous.
Teddy handed her the newspaper, folded back to the ad.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “Neither do I,” he replied, “at least not yet. We’ll give it a while, and if we have no further problems, we’ll pick us a spot and go live happily ever after.”
“And if we have further problems?”
Teddy sighed. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
STONE WAS STILL WORKING on the Times crossword when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?” A woman’s voice, silken.
“Yes?”
“This is Milly Hart.”
“Good morning, Ms. Hart,” he said.
“I would be pleased if you would come to lunch today at my apartment, if you’re available.”
“May I bring my colleague?”
“I would prefer to see you alone.”
“I’m available.”
“One o’clock, then?”
“One o’clock.” Stone hung up, got out of bed, and went into the living room, where Dino was reading the Wall Street Journal. Dino had become interested in financial matters after the multimillion-dollar divorce settlement arranged by his former father-in-law, Eduardo Bianchi.
“Who was on the phone?” Dino asked.
“Milly Hart.”
Dino looked surprised. “Yeah? That sounds interesting.”
“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied. “She invited me to lunch.”
“Just you?”
“I asked if I could bring you—she said no.”
Dino smiled. “She’s going to jump your bones.”
“I doubt it,” Stone said, “but I think she may have something to say. I wanted you to know up front that it wasn’t my idea to see her alone, it was hers.”
“It’s okay, pal,” Dino said.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure. Anyway, there’s a movie on HBO I want to see.”
“Okay,” Stone said.
STONE PRESENTED HIMSELF AT the Watergate apartments at five minutes past the hour, and the maid was waiting for him when he got off the elevator. She showed him into the living room, where Milly Hart was sitting on the sofa, just as last time, in another beautiful peignoir. She offered him a hand and patted the sofa next to her. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Barrington,” she said.
“I never turn down a free lunch,” Stone replied, sitting.
“Marilyn,” she said to the maid, “you may have the afternoon off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said, smiling. She disappeared.
As soon as she left, there was a knock on the door from the foyer.
“Come in,” Milly called out.
The door opened, and a waiter pushed in a room service table and set it up before the windows overlooking the river.
“Come,” Milly said, leading Stone to the table. “I believe you’re feveet ond of lobster salad,” she said, waving him to his seat.
“You’re very well informed,” Stone said, surprised.
“It’s Washington,” she said.
Stone laughed. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry I had to cut our first meeting short, but you hadn’t called ahead, and I had another engagement.”
“I believe I bumped into your engagement as we got off the elevator.”
“Did you,” she said, but it wasn’t a question. She poured them each a glass of a good white Burgundy, and they raised their glasses. “To truth and justice and the American way,” she said.
Stone smiled and sipped his wine.
“I take those things very seriously,” she said, popping a morsel of lobster into her mouth.
“Is that how you were brought up?”
“Well, yes, but it was my late husband, Senator Hart, who instilled those values in me in a more permanent way. Since he died, I have hated injustice in its every form, and I always tell the truth.”
“Are you going to tell me the truth today?” Stone asked.
“I am, to the extent that I know it.” She sipped her wine. “Tell me, what have you heard about me?”
“That you come from go
od stock, that you married a good man, but one who left you in dire straits.”
She smiled broadly. “And that I was forced to take money from men as a result?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m afraid the truth is more shocking than that,” she said.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” Stone said.
So she told him.
25
“ONLY SOME OF WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD IS TRUE,” MILLY Hart said. “I did come from good stock. I am well educated, hold a master’s degree in English literature from Mount Holyoke College. I did marry a good man, and he did die sooner than I would have wished, but he did not leave me in dire straits.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Stone said.
“He left me quite well off, in fact: a little more than six million in securities, two small office buildings that produce a very good income, an apartment in New York, and a house in Virginia. And in the ensuing years I have improved my positions in almost everything, thanks to good advice from good friends.”
She took a sip of her wine. “And,” she said, “I have never taken a penny from a man for sex.”
Stone didn’t know what to say.
“I do have ... relationships,” she said, “and quite often more than one at a time. You see, when I married the senator we formed a tight physical bond and we enjoyed a very active sex life, so much so that, when he died, I found myself sharply wanting that to continue.” She took another sip.
“Please go on,” Stone said.
“The most difficult thing was that I was suddenly a widow and expected not to form attachments with men for quite some time. Fortunately, someone came to the rescue: a marrieeveeth is mod man.”
“I see,” Stone said, though he didn’t quite.
“I couldn’t be seen out with men, and of course he couldn’t be seen out with women, so we met here and ... at other places.” She polished off the last of her lobster and took a gulp of wine. “His name was Brixton Kendrick.”
Stone scooped up the last of his lobster and kept his mouth shut.
“Brix understood me, and he knew that because of his marriage and his work, he could not offer me the kind of attention I required—that is, enough attention. So he suggested I take other married lovers. He even suggested one or two.”
Stone sipped his wine, entranced.
“The gentleman you encountered when you got off the elevator yesterday is one of them, and one of the nicest. We see each other once a week, always varying the day, and we enjoy ourselves.”
“I don’t know how many there are,” Stone said, “but they are very fortunate men.”
She colored slightly. “That’s very kind of you, Stone,” she said.
“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Stone said. “You are a very beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I am aware of your situation,” she said. “In fact, I knew and liked Arrington. My Virginia home is not far from the house she built. I was invited to her housewarming on that day, but I had other plans in New York and had to send my regrets. That was a terrible day for you, I know, and I understand how you must have been feeling during the months since that time.”
“Thank you,” Stone said.
“I find you a very attractive man,” she said, standing. Her peignoir had fallen open, and her body was exposed its whole length.
She was a real redhead, Stone noted. He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her, and the peignoir fell to the floor.
“Come,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into her bedroom, a large sunny place with a bed that was already turned down. She did not bother to close the curtains, she simply lay on the bed and watched him, smiling, as he undressed.
In his arms she was lusciou
s and ready, and she welcomed him with all her charms.
AN HOUR LATER, both of them spent, they lay beside each other. Then she got out of bed, left the room, and returned, still naked, with half a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. They piled up the pillows and sat back, sipping the cold wine.
“And now,” she said, “having had carnal knowledge of you, I will tell you why else I asked you here. I meant to tell you sooner, but I was overcome.”
“Tell me,” Stone said.
“I was not Brix’s only lover,” she said.
“I heard that he was seeing Muffy Brandon. I spoke to her.”
“Oh, not Muffy,” she said. “I mean, yes, he was fucking her, but I also mean he was seeing someone much more important to him.”
“Brix was quite a guy,” Stone said.
“Someone in the White House,” Milly said quietly.
Stone nearly choked on his champagne.
“You se="3llye, in his position, Brix had the run of the place, saw everyone, knew everyone, knew when he could take a quiet moment, lock a door, and conduct an assignation.”
“In the White House?” Stone asked, flabbergasted.
“Oh, yes. For Brix, knowing what he knew about that world, there was no safer place.”
“I’m having some difficulty accepting this.”
“I’m telling you only what Brix told me. It wasn’t always in the White House, he said. After all, Mimi worked, and he did have his own house. There is a garage, and someone could drive right in and enter the house unseen.”
“How very convenient,” Stone said.
“On other occasions they used the White House family quarters.”
Stone sat up in bed and faced her. “Are you telling me he was having an affair with . . .”
“With Katharine Rule Lee? Possibly, he wouldn’t say. But the family quarters were sometimes available when the president was traveling, or just in the daytime, and Brix had full access, keys and everything. I mean, not in the presidential bed, but there are a number of bedrooms in the quarters, and they are usually unused. Brix knew the schedules of the cleaners, and the Secret Service wouldn’t enter the quarters without his permission. I think that the apparent impossibility of what he was doing was a big thrill for him.”
“I can see how it could be,” Stone said. “As far as you know, did anyone at the White House suspect?”
“He told me once that there was someone who had seemed to know something, but he couldn’t be sure. So he just continued as he had before.”
“Did he mention a name?”
“No, Brix was a very discreet man.”
“Did Mimi know about these other women?”
“I think she preferred not to know. If Mimi had been a more attentive and adventurous wife, none of this would ever have happened. I think she viewed sex, perhaps for religious reasons, as a means of procreation and little else. He told me once that she was shocked when he tried to give her cunnilingus, and disgusted by the thought of giving him fellatio. She wouldn’t touch his cock with her hand.” She glanced at the bedside clock.
“Perhaps I’d better go,” Stone said.
“I do have an appointment at five o‘clock, and God knows, after what we’ve been doing, I need a nap.”
Stone got into his clothes, and she walked him to the elevator, still nude. “I’m in New York once, sometimes twice a month,” she said. “I have an apartment at the Carlyle Hotel. Would you like to see me there sometime?”
“I w
ould be delighted,” Stone said. He gave her his card.
“No attachments, no entanglements. I prefer it that way,” she said.
“I understand. That’s fine with me.”
They kissed, then he got onto the elevator. His last image of her was her standing, naked and relaxed, blowing him a kiss.
“Dino is not going to believe this,” Stone said aloud to himself. “Not any of it.”
26
STONE FOUND ="3ll>
“The Yankees, of course,” Dino said.
“You want to wait until it’s over before I tell you what happened?”
Dino muted the TV. “You ended up in the sack with her, didn’t you?”
“I don’t like your accusatory tone,” Stone said, “and a gentleman would never answer that question.”
“You just did,” Dino said.
“Never mind that. Milly had a lot to say, and I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“There was time for talking?” Dino asked “You’re losing your touch.”
“You want to hear this, or you want to watch the fucking ball game?”
Dino switched off the TV. “All right, I’m all ears.”
“First of all, she didn’t fall on hard times after her husband’s death—quite the contrary. And she doesn’t take money from men.”
“And you bought it?”
“She has a list of lovers, all or most of them married, but she’s not a hooker—she just likes sex.”
“She told you that?”
“No names, except the guy we saw yesterday, and of course Brix Kendrick. He was her first lover after her husband died.”
“Did anything she say have anything to do with why we’re here, or are we just gossiping?”
“Dino, she says that Brix told her he had a lover in the White House.”
“Anybody we know?”
“He wouldn’t give her the name, but they were doing it in the White House.”
“That’s impossible.”
Stone explained why it wasn’t.
“And you think it’s the first lady?”
“No, of course not, even though Milly said that was a possibility.”
“Why don’t we go back to New York and let Milly solve this?” Dino asked.
“You’re not paying attention, Dino. Now we have a motive for the murder.”
“I must have missed that.”
“Jealousy. Brix’s lover was jealous of his wife, or she wanted her out of the way so she’d have a clear shot at Brix.”
“Sounds like she had already hit the bull’s-eye,” Dino pointed out.
“The bull’s-eye was to have Brix all to herself.”
“I can’t say I like your theory all that much.”
“Have you got a better one? Have you got a theory at all?”
“Yeah, I think Brix had a scene with his wife, offed her, then, out of remorse, offed himself.”
“No,” Stone said, “Brix left ahead of Mimi—they were in separate cars, remember, and when he heard she was dead he knew who had done it. His remorse was that his affair led to his wife’s death.”
“Why do you always like the complicated motives?” Dino asked. “What’s wrong with s he knew wsimple?”
“This is just one step removed from simple,” Stone said. “His lover saw Mimi leave the tennis court. Maybe there was a confrontation, words were exchanged, names called. Mimi turned to leave, and the lover grabbed the first thing handy—the brick—and hit her with it or threw it at her.”
“Having first paused to kiss the brick, leaving her Pagan Spring lipstick on it,” Dino said. “I like that part.”
“All right, I don’t know how the lipstick got on the brick,” Stone admitted. “I’ll give you that one.”
“Thanks, I feel so much better.”
“Oh, come on, you know this scenario works.”
“So tell me, how are we better off than before you and Milly did the deed?”
“We’re better off because we know who to talk to now,” Stone replied.
“We do? I missed another one.”
“The maids who clean the family quarters.”
“You’re saying Brix was using the family quarters to fuck his girlfriend?”
“I explained that, being in charge of the house, he had all the keys, and he knew the maids’ cleaning schedule.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”
“Look, Dino, our backs are against the wall here. We ca
n either send the president and first lady a nice note accepting the FBI report and go home, or we can run down this lead. What’s it going to be?”
“I think ‘lead’ is too strong a term,” Dino said, “but what the hell? You talk to the maids, I’ll listen. Then we’ll write the Lees a nice note and go home.”
“Okay, I’ll set it up with the White House,” Stone said. “And, Dino, you cannot roll over in bed and tell Shelley about it. She has a vested interest in protecting the FBI in all this and she could screw it up for us.”
“You think she’d do that?” Dino asked.
“Inadvertently, maybe, but she might mention it to Kerry Smith, and that would not be good.”
“What about you, pal? You going to roll over in bed and tell Holly about this?”
“We’re working for Holly, sort of,” Stone pointed out. “God knows, we’ve had little else to tell her.”
“You seeing her tonight?”
“Yes. Here.”
“Then lock your door. I’m seeing Shelley here, too.”
“Will do.”
“Gee, I hope you won’t be all worn out after your matinee,” Dino said.
“You have a point. It’s been a while since I’ve had a matinee.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re back in the game,” Dino said. He clicked on the TV. “And so am I.”
The phone rang, and Stone answered it. He listened for a moment. “All right,” he said, “send them up.” He put down the phone.
“Send who up?” Dino asked.
“The front desk said there are two D.C. cops downstairs.”
The doorbell rang, and Stone let in two men he could have spotted as cops from has c”lf a mile.
“I’m Paulson,” one of them said, “this is Padgett.” He nodded toward his partner. “Are you Barrington?”
“I am,” Stone said. “Nice to meet you, gentlemen. That’s Lieutenant Bacchetti, NYPD, over there, glued to the ball game.”
Dino gave them a little wave.
Stone led them t
o a sofa. “What’s up?”
The two men sat down. “Well,” Paulson said, consulting his notebook, “the head doorman at the Watergate apartments tells us that you paid a Mrs. Hart a visit this afternoon.”