by Stuart Woods
“You have an address for Mr. Biggers?”
“It’s on the guest list I gave you.”
“Right. I think we’ll want to have a word with Mr. Biggers.”
“Was there any drug use at your party?” the chief asked.
“Not to my knowledge. I would have asked anyone using drugs to leave, but I don’t know what they did in the bathrooms and guest rooms.”
“Did you use any drugs yourself?”
“No, the only nonprescription drug I use is alcohol, and that lightly.”
“Were you drunk that evening?”
“I don’t get drunk.”
“Were any of your guests drunk?”
“It was a New Year’s Eve party, I imagine so. Some of them didn’t want to drive and stayed here, but I didn’t count heads. I went to bed around one AM, and the party was dying by then.”
“Did you hear from Mr. Biggers at any time after the party?”
“No, but then I’ve been out of the country.”
“Does your cell phone work out of the country?”
“Yes, but very few people have that number, and Harvey isn’t one of them. I use a second cell phone for business, and only my staff have that number.”
“Are you planning to leave town anytime soon, Mr. Carlton?”
“Yes, I’m leaving tomorrow for Los Angeles. I have a film to finish.”
“Can you postpone your departure for a few days?” the chief asked.
Stone spoke for the first time. “Chief, Mr. Carlton is on a deadline to complete his film.”
“We’re opening on three thousand screens in six weeks,” Carlton said, “and we haven’t finished editing yet. We also have music and dubbing to do, and I may have to reshoot a scene or two. It’s very tight.”
“Mr. Carlton will make himself available to speak to you anytime you wish,” Stone said. “He wants only to cooperate, within the constraints of his work.”
“There’ll be an opening at Radio City Music Hall,” Carlton said, “for six thousand of my closest friends. I’ll send you some tickets, if you like.”
Both policemen nodded. “The wife would like that,” the chief said.
The cops shook hands and left.
“The tickets were a nice touch,” Stone said. “Cops never get invited anywhere.”
“I figured,” Carlton said. He handed Stone a card. “Send me your bill.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Stone said, getting to his feet.
He handed Carlton his card.
“I’ll send you some opening tickets, too, and better seats than the cops. And you’re invited to the opening-night party at the Rainbow Room after the screening.”
“Sounds good,” Stone said. “If you should hear from Harvey Biggers, will you let me know?”
“You want his address?”
“I have it,” Stone said. They shook hands, and Stone walked next door and surrendered himself to the tender mercies of Carrie Fiske, for one more night.
After they had made love, and just before Stone fell asleep, Carrie whispered in his ear, “I have an early appointment in the city tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving here at four AM. Rupert will give you breakfast.”
“Hmmmf,” Stone replied, then drifted off.
12
Stone eased into consciousness at a little after ten o’clock. He was unaccustomed to sleeping that late, but at least, he thought, he’d miss the rush-hour traffic into Manhattan. He showered, shaved, dressed, and packed his bag, then carried it downstairs with him.
Rupert was ready for him and served a big breakfast, which he wolfed down. He’d skip lunch to make up for it. While he was on coffee, Rupert took his luggage out to the car, and he heard the trunk lid slam. Rupert came back shortly. “Everything’s in your car,” he said, “including a small gift from Ms. Fiske.”
“Then I’ll be on my way,” Stone said.
“I’ll be on my way, too,” Rupert replied. “I’ve been given a week off.” The two walked down to the front of the house together, and Rupert drove away. Stone followed until he lost the man at an intersection.
Stone lazily followed the GPS instructions to the Long Island Expressway, and as he entered the highway, someone kissed him on his right ear. He looked in the rearview mirror and found two large black eyes looking back at him.
“Bob, what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, but he didn’t get an answer. Bob hopped into the seat beside him and sat down. There was an envelope tied to his collar with Stone’s name on it. He pulled into a rest stop and read it.
My Dear Stone,
You were the perfect guest, and the perfect lay, too. Thank you for a memorable time. I hope you’ll come back soon and even before that. Call me in the city.
It’s clear to me that you and Bob were made for each other. You’re the first person he’s ever shown much of an interest in, including me. His food, his vet records, and registration are all in his bag in your trunk, and you’ll be glad to know that the documents making him legal to visit Britain are there, too. He’s had all the right shots, etc. You’ll find him easy to deal with. I’m leaving town for a couple of weeks this midday. If, when I get back, you and Bob turn out to have been incompatible, I’ll take him off your hands, but I don’t see that happening. Oh, and his meal schedule and some plastic bags are in his bag, too.
Kisses,
Carrie
“Well, Bob,” Stone said to the dog, “it looks as if you and I are bunking together for a couple of weeks.”
Bob’s tail beat affirmatively against the leather seat.
He made good time to the house and pulled into the garage. He got out his and Bob’s luggage, put his on the elevator and took Bob’s with him to his office. Joan heard him close the outer door and came in to greet him.
“Well, who’s this?” she cried, and knelt to greet the dog.
“This is Bob, and he’s going to be spending a couple of weeks with us.” He handed her the bag. “Here’s his luggage, and there are all sorts of goodies in there. As I recall he has lunch around this time, and there’s food in there, too.”
Joan took the bag and came back with two bowls and set them on the floor next to Stone’s desk. “There you go, Bob. How about you, boss? Lunch?”
“I had an enormous breakfast, so I’ll skip that.”
“A good weekend?”
“Very good, and I got some new business.” He handed her Carrie’s will and gave her instructions on what to do with it. “A man called Nicky Chalmers will be calling to set up an appointment.”
“He called this morning. Shall I get him back for you?”
“Sure. I also picked up a movie director called James Carlton, but I think that was a one-shot meeting.” He sat down while Joan made the call.
“Nicky on one,” she said.
Stone picked up the phone. “Good afternoon, Nicky.”
“And to you, Stone.”
“I just got back a moment ago, and somewhat to my surprise, Bob came with me. He’s staying here while Carrie is out of town.”
“We were all astonished at how Bob took to you. He’s ordinarily pretty diffident, except at mealtime.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Probably so. Can we get together tomorrow? I’d like to bring my business manager with me. His name is Duncan Beard.”
“Shall I ask Bill Eggers to join us?”
“Sure, that would be nice, I haven’t seen him in years.”
“How about lunch here, then? Twelve-thirty? I’ll round up Bill, if he’s available.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“You’ve got the address. Use the ground-floor street entrance.”
“See you then.”
Stone hung up and called Eggers. “You free for lunch here tomorrow? I’ve got a new client
for you, name of Nicky Chalmers.”
“Ah, the great-grandson of the Tire King, now a dilettante art collector of some note. Knew him at Yale. Delighted to have him, and I’ll join you for lunch.”
“Twelve-thirty. See you then. Come to the office.” He buzzed Joan: “Tell Helene we’ll be four for lunch tomorrow, serve something manly. We’ll sit down at one.”
“Got it. I’d better take Bob out, it’s on his schedule.”
“You two enjoy yourselves.”
Around five Stone was cleaning up his desktop, in preparation for a drink and the TV news, when Bob came and sat next to him. “What’s up, Bob?”
Bob didn’t move, just fixed his gaze on Stone.
“Joan?”
She came in.
“Why is Bob staring at me?”
“Ah, his schedule says he dines at five. I’ll serve him.”
Bob got down his dinner, then returned to sit next to Stone and stare. “Joan?”
She came back. “I forgot, he gets a cookie after his meals and his trips outside.” She handed Stone the biscuit, and he handed it to Bob, who then curled up beside Stone’s desk and went to sleep.
—
Late that evening, as Stone was getting into his nightshirt, Bob came and sat down in front of him and gave him the staring treatment.
“What is it, Bob?”
Bob made a little noise, then went to the door.
“Ah, you want to go out?”
Bob wagged all over.
Five minutes later, Stone found himself walking around the block in his trench coat and slippers in the pouring rain, waiting for Bob to find just the right spot. This process took fifteen minutes. Back inside, Stone had to find a towel and rub Bob dry, or at least, drier. Bob then insisted on his cookie.
Stone turned on the late-evening news and caught up on the day. Bob curled up in his bed and went straight to sleep.
“Not a care in the world,” Stone muttered.
13
Stone had a good lunch with Nicky Chalmers, his business manager, and Bill Eggers, and all were agreed that Nicky would join Woodman & Weld as Stone’s client. He saw them off after lunch, then went down to his office to find Sergeant D’Orio, in a civilian suit, waiting for him.
“Good afternoon, Sergeant.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Your secretary gave me some, thanks.”
“Then what else can we do for you?”
“I finally caught up with Harvey Biggers at his apartment.”
“Good. And what did he have to say?”
“He said he picked up Darla Henry at a place called Bobby Van’s.”
“When?”
“On New Year’s Eve. He said he didn’t have a date for the party, so he invited her along. They got drunk, and late in the evening, had sex. He slept for a while, then decided to leave, but he couldn’t wake her up, so he just left her there.”
“So they weren’t old friends?”
“He denies ever having met her before that night.”
“Have you any reason to doubt his word?”
“I’ve got no evidence that he’s lying, it’s just a feeling.”
“I know that feeling. Biggers came to see me last week, claiming that his ex-wife, who is my client, was trying to kill him.”
“And what did you do about that?”
“I showed him the door.”
“Did he have two black eyes at the time?”
“Yes, he did.” Stone told him the whole story.
“He’s not quite over them, yet. There’s something else. I didn’t mention it before, but we found Darla’s cell phone in her purse. We’ve had time to get the records, and I was surprised to see that she called you three times.” He handed Stone the record sheet. “I thought you said you didn’t know her.”
“I didn’t, and I don’t.” He ran a finger down the list and found the calls. “The calls are all to this office, and at a time when I was in England.” He buzzed Joan, and she came in. “Did we receive three calls from a Darla Henry on these dates?” He handed her the sheet.
“Now that you mention it, you had two or three calls from a woman who wouldn’t give her name and hung up. You can see that none of these three lasted more than half a minute.” She handed the sheet back, and Stone handed it back to D’Orio.
“There you go,” he said. “I never spoke to her, and she didn’t leave her name.”
D’Orio sighed. “Every time I think I have something in this case, it just melts away.”
“Would it help if I confessed to her murder?”
D’Orio’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, sir!”
“Sorry, I was just trying to make you feel better. I’m completely innocent, and so, I suspect, is Harvey Biggers.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Just a gut feeling. Also, his story makes perfect sense, and I’ll bet the bartender at Bobby Van’s will back him up.”
“It was a long time ago,” the cop said.
“Jim Carlton remembered her from the same night, and he’d never seen her before. She must have been a memorable lady.”
“You have a point. I’ll stop by Bobby Van’s on the way home.”
“If you hurry, you’ll miss the worst of the rush-hour traffic.”
“Right.” D’Orio stood up.
Stone walked him to the outside door. “Listen, I used to be a cop, and sometimes you get ahold of a bad situation that turns out not to be a crime. I think it’s highly probable that Harvey and Darla met at Bobby Van’s, he took her to the party, succumbed to her charms, then left, and Darla, who was probably drunk, died of a mixture of sleeping pills and alcohol. And I’ll bet, when your tox screen comes back, that’s what it’ll say.”
“I have a feeling you’re right,” D’Orio said. “Thanks for your time.”
They shook hands, and he went on his way.
Joan had gotten into her coat and had Bob on his leash. “Turns out Bob’s annual physical is due. I’m taking him uptown to see his personal physician and get his rabies inoculation updated, et cetera, et cetera. Fred will man the phones while I’m gone.”
“Okay, see you later.” He looked into her office and found Fred at her desk.
“Nice dog, Bob,” Fred said. “I had one like him as a boy.”
“I never had a dog as a boy. My mother was allergic.”
“Good thing you’re not, then.”
“I guess it is a good thing.”
“Want to make a small wager?”
“On what?”
“I’ll bet you twenty quid—ah, bucks—that when the lady comes home, she won’t get her dog back.”
“You’re on,” Stone said, “and I’ll enjoy taking your money.”
14
Stone was back at his desk when Dino called. “I hear you were caught in bed with a dead woman in the Hamptons.”
“You have big ears, but faulty hearing. I reported a dead woman, and she was in no condition to go to bed with. Who have you been talking to?”
“Their chief out there, Don Ferris. Known him for years.”
“Did he tell you what his latest theory is? He has lots of them.”
“His latest theory is you.”
“Well, his sergeant just left here, after being straightened out on that point. I’m no longer a suspect, if I ever was.”
“What’s your theory?”
“A guy named Harvey Biggers—”
“That’s a name? Sounds like somebody out of Country Gentleman magazine, circa 1950.”
“It does, doesn’t it? You want to hear this, or you want to talk?”
“Go.”
“Harvey Biggers meets her at the bar at Bobby Van’s and invites her
to Jim Carlton’s New Year’s Eve party. They get drunk and hit the sack. The girl takes a few Ambien. Biggers decamps at dawn, says he can’t wake her. Carlton goes to London for three months, and I discover the body, which is three months old.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Do you remember what that smells like?”
“All too well.”
“We were having a very nice lobster salad at lunch next door when the wind shifted and ruined our appetites. I took a look around and called nine-one-one. The rest is everybody just certifying the obvious.”
“You want to have dinner tonight? Seven-thirty at Patroon?”
“Sure. Can I bring my new roommate, Bob? It would hurt his feelings if I didn’t ask him.”
“You have a new roommate, and she’s named Bob?”
“He.”
Dino was uncharacteristically silent.
“See you at seven-thirty. Bob is looking forward to meeting you.” Stone hung up, laughing.
—
Stone and Bob arrived at Patroon on time and were greeted by the owner, Ken Aretzky. Bob offered him a paw.
“You are pet-friendly, aren’t you, Ken?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know,” Ken said, shaking the paw, “it never came up.” Ken showed him to a booth, and seated Bob under the table. Stone ordered a drink.
“Anything for Bob?”
“He’s on the wagon—he made a fool of himself last time.”
Stone’s drink arrived, followed shortly by Dino and his wife, Vivian. “Okay, where’s this Bob?”
“Under the table—he never could hold his liquor.”
Dino jumped. “He still can’t, he just licked my hand.”
Viv peeked under the tablecloth. “Hello, Bob,” she said. “He licked my hand, too.”
“It’s the friendly thing to do.”
“How did you and Bob come to meet?” Dino asked.
“We met in the Hamptons last weekend, and he hitched a ride to the city with me.”
“You were never the dog type.”
“That’s because I was denied that pleasure as a child. My mother was allergic, or at least said she was.”