by Stuart Woods
“Well . . . I went into the bedroom next door, into the bathroom that’s just next to the Lincoln Bedroom, and I . . .”
“Go on.”
“Well . . . I picked up the tooth glass and put it against the wall and put my ear to it. I could hear them talking.”
“And what were they saying?”
She flushed even more. “They … it was sexy talk.”
“Can you repeat exactly what they said? Don’t be embarrassed, it’s important.”
“I heard her say, ‘I want it,’ and he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to give it to you.’ And then they were on the bed. I could hear the bed squeaking. I think they were … doing it.”
“What do you think they were doing?”
“What a man and a woman do in the bedroom.”
“Did you hear them say anything else?”
“No, just noises, like. Happy noises.”
“What did you do then?”
“I cleaned the glass, then I got out of the quarters. I didn’t want to be there when they came out of the bedroom.”
“Did you see them after that?”
“No, sir, I didn’t. But the next morning, I changed the sheets in the Lincoln Bedroom. They were … stained, sort of.”
“Can you remember anything else, Mrs. Feliciano?”
She looked down. “I took something,” she said. “From the Lincoln Bedroom bathroom.”
“What did you take?”
Mrs. Feliciano’s purse was in her lap, and she opened it and rummaged around for a moment, then she held out something.
Stone took it from her and examined it. It was a lipstick tube, and the name “Pagan Spring” was printed on it.
“I didn’t think she would be coming back for it,” Mrs. Feliciano said.
“No, I suppose not,” Stone replied. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“No, please do,” she replied. “It isn’t mine, anyway, but I liked the color.”
“One more thing, Mrs. Feliciano,” Stone said. “Can you put a date to when this happened? Estimate when it was?”
“I know exactly when it was,” she said. “It was the day Mrs. Kendrick and Mr. Brix died. It was the last time I saw Mr. Brix.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Feliciano,” Stone said. “You’ve been a very big help.”
The woman gratefully fled the room.
“Okay,” Dino said, “your theory is starting to look a little better.”
31
Stone called Holly on her personal cell phone.
Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Stone.”
“Well, hello, stranger. How long has it been?”
“Uh, night before last?”
“Oh, right. I’m beginning to feel that I’m on a Stone-restricted diet.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel deprived. How about tonight?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Room service and what you once so charmingly referred to as a ‘bounce.’”
“Oh, yes, I think I remember.”
“I should bloody well hope so,” Stone said, contriving to sound hurt.
“Ah, yes, it’s coming back to me, now. That sounds like a good plan. You know those vodka gimlets you make at home?”
“I believe I recall the consumption of vodka gimlets.”
“Do you think you could make some for tonight?”
“I think I can manage to remember the recipe.”
“Oh, good. What is the recipe?”
“You’ll have to screw that out of me tonight, so to speak.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Is eight o’clock all right? I have to clear my desktop of some 1crap.”
“Eight will be just long enough for the gimlets to get frosty, before your arrival.”
“Until then, then.”
“Until then.” Stone hung up. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud to himself, then pressed the redial button.
“It’s me again,” she said.
“It’s me again, too. I forgot to ask you about something.”
“Does it involve national security?”
Stone thought about that. “I don’t know, but, as Fats Waller used to say, ‘One never knows, do one?’”
“Unlike yourself, I’m not old enough to remember who Fats Waller is, or was.”
“Was. The composer of ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ and a very great pianist.”
“Oh, yes. What was it you wanted to know?”
“Do you have any contacts at the DCPD?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Whether what you want to know from them is important enough for me to use up a favor over there.”
“Well, it’s important to me, since they may very well still consider me a suspect in the murder of Milly Hart. Is that important enough to use up a favor?”
“Hmmmmm.”
“Don’t be coy. You don’t want me arrested before tonight, do you?”
“Perhaps not. What do you want to know?”
“Do they still consider me a suspect in the murder of Milly Hart, and are there any new developments in that case?”
“That’s two favors.”
“Be cagey.”
“I can do that, I suppose.”
“You do it better than anybody I know.”
“That’s high praise, coming from you, slick.”
“I meant being cagey.”
“What a disappointment!”
“I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”
“Good. Suckle you later, honey.” She hung up.
Dino looked across the room at him. “I can only imagine her side of the conversation,” he said.
“Dream on,” Stone said, then picked up the phone again and called room service.
“Yes, Mr. Barrington?” a woman’s voice said. “Or is it Mr. Bacchetti?”
“Right the first time,” Stone said.
“What may room service serve you?”
“A bottle of your cheapest vodka and a bottle of Rose’s sweetened lime juice.”
“Is that dinner for one or two?”
“That’s cocktails, honest. I’ll order dinner later.”
“I’m afraid our cheapest vodka isn’t very cheap,” she replied. “Just between us, you’d do a lot better at a liquor store.”
“But then I’d have to go to a liquor store.”
“ size="3May I make a recommendation?”
“Of course.”
“Call the bell captain and have him send a bellman around the corner for your order. Tip him fifty dollars, and you’ll save a hundred and fifty.”
“What a grand idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’ve obviously never bought a bottle of spirits from hotel room service before.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Yes, you could send up canapes for two.” His attention was attracted by Dino, who was waving both hands. “Make that for three.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Room temperature.”
“It will be done. Good evening, Mr. Barrington.”
“Good evening.” They both hung up. Stone called the bell captain, and twenty minutes later a bellman appeared at the door with a brown paper bag, grinning in anticipation. Stone handed him a hundred and took the bag.
“Thank you,” the man said, then dematerialized.
Stone went to the bar and looked around. “We don’t seem to have a measuring cup,” he said.
“Do we have a shot glass?” Dino asked.
Stone looked further. “No.”
“How much vodka do you have to pour out of the bottle?”
“Six ounces.”
“Stop at the top of the label,” Dino said.
Stone found a tumbler and poured the six ounces into it, then he refilled the bottle with the Rose’s and held it up to the light. “That looks perfect,” he said. “Where did yo
u learn that?”
“From you,” Dino said.
“When?”
“One night when we had finished a bottle of gimlets and you had to make some more. You had a measuring cup that time, but you were still sober enough to notice that, after pouring out six ounces, the vodka level was at the top of the label. You weren’t sober enough to remember it, though.”
“Now I know why I hang around with you,” Stone said, tucking the bottle of gimlets into the freezer compartment of the bar fridge.
“Nah,” Dino said, “you hang around with me to learn, not to remember.”
Stone held up the tumbler of spare vodka. “What am I going to do with this?”
“You’ll think of something,” Dino said.
32
Holly took the first sip of her first gimlet. “Wow,” she said. “Super cold!”
“Colder than ice,” Stone said, “because alcohol freezes at a much lower temperature than water-that’s the point. You don’t have to water it down by putting it in a cocktail shaker with ice.” He offered her a canape.
She chose something with smoked salmon on it. “Yum.”
Stone took a sip of his gimlet. “I concur in your judgment of this drink.”
m">
“What did you find out from the DCPD?”
“I thought you’d get around to asking that,” she said, taking another pull at her gimlet.
“What, did you think I asked you over here for the sex?”
“God, I hope so.”
“Come on, cough it up.”
“The detective lieutenant I spoke with expressed considerable disappointment,” she said.
“In what was he disappointed?”
“He was disappointed that he couldn’t find a way to hang the murder on you.”
“Well, gee, the poor guy. Maybe I should send him roses, or something.”
“Or something.”
“What else did he say about the case?”
“In addition to being disappointed, he was relieved.”
“Relieved that he couldn’t hang it on me?”
“No, relieved that he couldn’t hang it on Paul Brandon, Muffy’s spouse. Mr. Brandon is very prominent and well connected locally, and he could have created all sorts of problems for the department if they’d charged him. They were very pleased that there was no substantive evidence against him.”
“Well, I’m so happy Mr. Brandon has been spared their further attention. Do they have any fucking idea who killed Milly?”
“Oh, you and Milly were on a first-name basis, were you?” she asked archly.
“Oh, yeah, I mean we knew each other for a good twenty-four hours.”
“‘Knew,’ in the biblical sense?”
“Come on.”
“She was, after all, a very beautiful woman,” Holly pointed out.
“I can’t argue that point.”
“Do you think her death has anything to do with your investigation?”
“Of course I do. As a result of speaking to her, Dino and I are conducting a new round of questioning of people who work in the White House. We’re talking with Brix Kendrick’s former secretary tomorrow.”
“And what do you expect to learn from her?”
“More about Brix Kendrick, and who he was fucking in the White House.”
“I’m sorry, I must have missed something.”
Stone told her about the questioning of Mrs. Feliciano.
“So she found the lipstick!”
“Yes, and Dino is giving it to Shelley so the FBI lab can do its thing.”
“You think they’ll find something on the lipstick a year later?”
“Once again, I refer you to Fats Waller.”
“And what she saw in the family quarters happened on the same day the Kendricks died?”
“The very same day. Mrs. Feliciano was very specific about that.”
Dino finished his drink and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, Shelley and I are dining out tonight.” He held up the lipstick in a plastic bag and dropped it into his coat pocket s coat p.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Holly said.
“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do,” Dino said, then left.
“Hungry?” Stone asked, handing her a room service menu.
“Ravenous,” she replied, pinching his cheek.
The following morning, Stone and Dino met with Brixton Kendrick’s former secretary, Charlotte Kirby.
“I believe we spoke on the phone,” Stone said.
“That’s correct,” she replied. She was an interesting-looking woman-in her early forties, he reckoned.
“And how long have you worked for Fair Sutherlin?”
“About seven months. After Mr. Kendrick’s death, his replacement wanted to bring his own secretary with him, so I stayed just long enough to get her up to speed, then I accepted an offer to work for Ms. Sutherlin.”
“Tell me, Ms. Kirby,” Stone said, “were you aware that Brix was conducting at least one affair in the White House?”
She froze. “And where did you get that idea?” she asked.
“From someone who saw him with a woman in the family quarters.”
“I can’t believe Mr. Kendrick would do something so outrageous.”
“Were you aware that he was sleeping with women other than his wife, not necessarily in the White House?”
She glanced at her nails. “I guessed that he was,” she said.
“On what evidence?”
“Mr. Kendrick took long lunch hours, something that’s very rare in the White House. He would sometimes disappear in the afternoons, too. He’d say that he was ‘making the rounds’ of the property. He’d be gone for a couple of hours, and he wouldn’t answer his cell phone.”
“Ms. Kirby,” Stone said, “did Brixton Kendrick ever have an affair with you?”
Her mouth fell open. “That’s preposterous,” she said.
“We know now that he was having affairs, and you’re an attractive woman,” Stone said. “What’s so preposterous?”
“That anyone would think I would do such a thing.”
“Not that Brix would.”
“He was his own person, he didn’t ask my permission for the things he did.”
“Did you ever know or suspect the names of the women he was sleeping with?”
“Well, there were rumors about the Hart woman,” she said, disdain creeping into her voice. “That’s the business she’s in, or so I hear.”
“You heard wrong, Ms. Kirby. Milly Hart had affairs, but not for money.”
The woman shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Any other names? Particularly in the White House?”
“The White House staff is, in some ways, like any other group of workers. These things happen.”
“With whom did they happen, in the case of Mr. Kendrick?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, in a manner that made Stone think she knew.ink she “Is that all?”
“For the present, Ms. Kirby. Thank you for your help.”
Her reaction, as she stood to leave, made Stone think she was happy she hadn’t helped too much.
33
The following morning, early, Stone and Holly were having breakfast with Dino and Shelley, when the phone rang. Dino got up and answered it. “For you,” he said to Shelley, holding up the phone. “It’s the FBI lab.”
Shelley left the table and went to the phone. “Yes?” She listened. “You got both? That’s great. Have you run them against the database? Thank you very much!” She hung up and returned to the breakfast table.
“Come on, tell us,” Stone said.
“This is your lucky day,” Shelley said. “The lab got both a fingerprint and a DNA sample.”
“Any idea whose?”
“They ran it against the database and got a hit on a White House employee.”
“Who?” Dino asked, hanging on her every word.
“One Esmerelda Feliciano.”
“Why aren’t you happy?” Shelley asked.
“Because Feliciano is the White House maid who found the lipstick. I guess she’s been using it ever since.”
“We should have expected this,” Stone said. “I refuse to be disappointed.”
“You go right ahead and refuse to be disappointed,” Dino said. “I’m pissed off.”
They ate for a couple of minutes in silence. Finally, Holly spoke. “I’m going to have to try that lipstick. The people who wear it do such exciting things. What’s it called?”
“Pagan Spring,” Dino said.
Holly began laughing, and soon they were all laughing.
“Where do they get these names?” Shelley said.
“Marketing and advertising people sit around having what they like to call ‘brainstorms’ and make them up.”
“Are they drunk when they’re doing this?” Shelley asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The phone rang again, and again Dino got it. He pointed at Stone. “It’s for you, this time.”
Stone got up and went to the phone. “This is Stone Barrington.”
“It’s Fair Sutherlin.”
“Good morning. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“First of all, thank you for your thank-you note. I was glad you could come to my dinner party.”
“I was glad, too. We all had a good time.”
“Are you free for dinner this evening?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Come for a drink at my house at seven, and we’ll go on from there. Dress casually.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
“Oh, I almost forgot my original reason for calling: Paul Brandon’s wife, Muffy, was murdered early this morning.”
Stone didn’t speak for a moment.
“Hello?”
“I’m here. Where did this happen?”
“At her home. You were there earlier, I believe.”
“Yes, I was. Where was Paul Brandon at the time?”
“Attending a conference on government and business in Chicago, at the request of the president.”
“I see. How did you hear?”
“A Lieutenant Padgett from the DCPD called me at home five minutes ago. He said the murder bore striking similarities to that of Milly Hart.”