Worst Fears Realized (6 page)
“Did the guy look Jewish?”
“Not particularly. His hair was dark, though, almost black.”
“How was he dressed?”
“He was wearing a raincoat, kind of new-looking, you know? Freshly pressed, no wrinkles.”
“Anything else?”
“No, the raincoat covered everything. It was single-breasted, not a trench coat; I remember that.”
Detectives Anderson and Kelly arrived, then, and Dino brought them up-to-date. “Andy, you get on the phone and get out an APB for this guy. Get a bulletin out to all the hospitals in Manhattan to expect a guy answering the description to come in with a gunshot wound to the head, possibly to the left ear. Be sure and tell them he’s armed with a knife and to exercise extreme caution. I don’t want this guy cutting up a nurse.”
Anderson went to the phone, while Kelly leaned against a wall, saying nothing.
“Thank God the kid was in school,” Dino said. He wrote something on a pad, ripped it off, and handed it to the idle Kelly. “Get over there and pick up my kid at his school. That’s the address.” Kelly left. “Mary Ann, neither of you goes anywhere without a cop for a while.”
“Oh, come on, Dino,” she replied. “The guy’s not coming back. No mugger is that stupid.”
Dino looked at the floor. “You do like I tell you about this, you hear me?”
Stone went and sat on the sofa next to her. “Mary Ann,” he said, “it’s not a mugger.”
“What are you talking about?”
He turned to Dino. “It’s our guy,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” Dino replied. “Worst fears realized.”
K
ELLY RETURNED WITH DINO’S SON,
Benedetto, a black-eyed six-year-old who looked like a tiny Sicilian prince, taking after his mother’s line. Dino dismissed Kelly, then gathered up the boy, sat him on his lap, and explained what had happened that afternoon.
“Why don’t you just have the guy capped?” the child asked.
Dino sighed and looked at Stone. “He spent the weekend with his grandfather.” He turned back to the boy. “Because, Ben, I am a police officer, and we don’t have guys capped. We arrest them and put them in jail, remember? Now you go and get washed up for dinner. Uncle Stone is going to join us.” The boy got down from his father’s lap and ran toward his room.
“Thanks, I’d love to,” Stone said.
Mary Ann excused herself and headed for the kitchen.
“Come on into my study,” Dino said. “Let’s have a drink.”
Stone followed Dino into the handsome little walnut-paneled room, where Dino produced Stone’s favorite bourbon and a scotch for himself. It was not the study or the apartment of a New York City police lieutenant, and the books on the shelves, mostly art history, history, and biography, revealed a broader Dino than most people knew.
Stone knew that Dino’s father-in-law had acquired the apartment for his daughter in circumstances that were murky, to say the least. It was in a white-shoe, East Side cooperative building that did not ordinarily entertain applications from people whose names ended in vowels, and Stone reckoned it would sell for somewhere between a million and a half and two million dollars on the open market. Stone knew that the apartment’s purchaser and his daughter’s ownership were protected behind a complex corporate veil, and he doubted if any other member of the NYPD had ever entered the place before today. He wondered what would happen if Dino ever became the target of some in-depth departmental investigation.
“You got any thoughts about all this?” Dino asked.
At first, Stone thought he meant the apartment, then he realized what the subject was. “Oh. Not really. Certainly, Mitteldorfer’s alibi is tight. I think I’d check out the nephew in Hamburg, to see if he’s really in Germany. Might be good to check out Mitteldorfer’s visitors list, too?” He allowed himself a grin. “
If
you can get it out of Captain Warkowski.”
Dino raised his glass in a little toast. “Fuck you,” he said.
Stone lifted his glass. “Thanks. Have you got any ideas?”
Dino shook his head. “Not really. It’s spooky how the perp looks like Mitteldorfer used to look, though.”
“Yes, it is. I think the Hamburg nephew is not a bad bet. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d immigrated, or if he turns up on Mitteldorfer’s visitors list. I’d like to know if Mitteldorfer has any other relatives in this country, particularly any children he didn’t tell us about.”
“First thing tomorrow,” Dino said. “Well, one good thing about all this; it’s given you something else to think about besides your broken heart.”
“Give me a break, Dino,” Stone said wearily.
“Listen, Stone, I think you’re well out of the thing with Arrington.”
“I thought you
liked
Arrington.”
“I did. I do. I just think that if you’d married her, she might have run off with Vance Calder later, and that would have screwed you up even worse.”
“I am
not
screwed up, and, anyway, Arrington’s not like that,” Stone said. “
I
dropped the ball; I didn’t commit when I should have, and by the time I got around to it…”
“And when did you get around to it?”
“I was going to ask her to marry me when we went on the sailing trip; I’d made up my mind on the way down there. Then, when the snowstorm kept her in the city, and when Calder showed up…well, it
was a good offer, and she had no reason to think I was going to make a better one.”
“So you blame yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Blame her; it won’t hurt as much. There’s nothing like being pissed off at a woman to make her absence easier.”
“I’ll try and remember that,” Stone said drily.
“You think there’s any chance she’d leave Calder?”
“None. She’s borne him a son, remember? She’s locked in.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time people with kids got a divorce.”
“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”
“Why don’t you just go out to LA and get her?”
“I had my shot at that; she made her choice. I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”
“You really believe the kid is Calder’s, not yours?”
“The tests were done, Dino; she wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Nah; women never lie.”
“I’m at peace with that part of it, at least. If the child had been mine, she’d have come back to me. That was our agreement. Why are you digging through all this?”
Dino shrugged. “I figured it might do you good to talk about it.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I do feel a little better having articulated the situation.”
“You sound like a fucking shrink.” Dino abruptly changed the subject. “I’m going to put a watch on you,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Sure it is. This guy followed you the night Susan Bean was killed, you know.”
“You have a point there.”
“It bothers me that he could recognize Mary Ann on the street.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“It means he’s been doing his homework, checking out our lives.”
“That’s pretty scary.”
“And for God knows how long. He may have plans for other people we know. You been seeing any girls at all?”
“No, nobody.”
“That’s not like you, Stone.”
“It’s just as well, though, isn’t it? At least I don’t have to call up women and tell them there’s a lunatic on the loose.”
“He
is
a lunatic, isn’t he?”
“This is hardly a sane thing to do, even if it is revenge.”
“Has it occurred to you that one victim didn’t even know you? That she just had the misfortune to live within sight of your house?”
“It has. Did anything come of checking out the residents of the buildings on my side of the block?”
Dino shook his head. “Nothing; all solid citizens.”
“He had to have seen her through her rear window,” Stone said. “She wasn’t chosen at random.”
“He wanted you to watch,” Dino said. “Maybe me, too.”
“It was the single worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I know how you feel.”
Dino picked up the phone at his side and pressed a speed-dial button. “This is Bacchetti; let me speak to Anderson. Andy? Tomorrow I want you to dig out the case file on a Herbert Mitteldorfer; killed his wife twelve, thirteen years ago. I want you to go back to the neighborhood where he used to live—in the old Germantown area, I think—the East Eighties. Talk to his neighbors, the shopkeepers, anybody who remembers him. See if any of them knows whether he had any family in this country, particularly a son or a nephew; find out who his friends were, and check with them. I want to know about everybody he knew. Check his former workplace, too. There’s a woman called Eloise Enzberg who worked or maybe still works there. Talk to her nicely, and maybe she’ll spill something. She’s been writing to Mitteldorfer at Sing Sing. Also, call the warden’s office and get a list of Mitteldorfer’s visitors for the past two years. Report back to me as you find out things; I want to know it all. Hang on.” Dino covered the receiver. “Can you think of anything else?” he asked Stone.
Stone furrowed his brow. “Have them find out who Mitteldorfer was friends with at Sing Sing and whether any of them has gotten out recently.”
“Good idea.” Dino gave the instruction to Anderson, then hung up. “I don’t know of anything else we can do, do you?”
Stone shook his head. “Not apart from being very, very careful.”
S
TONE WAS AWAKENED FROM A SOUND
sleep by the doorbell. He rolled over, glancing at the clock—9:00
A.M.
He picked up the phone and punched the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Joan Robertson, from Woodman and Weld. Bill Eggers sent me over to do some secretarial work for you.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll buzz you in. Wander around until you find the kitchen, and make yourself a cup of coffee. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.” He pressed the button that opened the front door.
He struggled out of bed, shaved, showered, and dressed, then ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. A woman with streaked blonde hair, trim, in her forties, sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
“Good morning,” she said. “Join me? I made a pot.”
He shook her hand. “Thanks, I will,” Stone said. He got a cup and sat down. “You look a lot like…what’s her name? The actress?”
“June Allyson?”
“That’s the one.”
“I get that all the time.”
“You even have that husky voice. Is she your mother?”
“Not unless my parents have been lying to me for the past forty-five years.”
“Did Bob tell you anything about what I need?”
“He said you needed a secretary, maybe for a few weeks. He also said that you should not get to like me too much, because he has no intention of letting you steal me.”
Stone laughed. The phone rang, and he went to the wall set and picked it up. “Hello?”
“Stone? It’s Sarah Buckminster.”
The English accent rang like a bell, and parts of Stone were ringing, too.
“You’re obviously an impostor,” he said. “The real Sarah Buckminster is in Tuscany, probably treading grapes for the new Chianti.”
“She was until yesterday.” Sarah laughed.
“Are you really back?”
“I am.”
“God, it’s been, what…”
“Six and a half years. How the hell are you?”
“I’m extremely well.”
“So am I. Buy me lunch?”
“You bet. The Four Seasons at one? We’ll celebrate.”
“We certainly will. See you then.”
“Bye.” Stone hung up and came back to the table. “Sorry about that,” he said to Joan. “An old friend has turned up unexpectedly.”
“You certainly sounded happy to hear from her,” Joan said.
“It showed, huh? I guess I am
very
happy to hear from her. Now, I was telling you about—” The doorbell rang. “Excuse me again.” He picked up the phone. “Yes?” He heard footsteps going down the front steps. “Hello?” He hung up and turned back to Joan. “Let me see who that is.”
He walked through the living room to the front door. Nobody there. He looked up and down the street but saw no one who looked interested in his house. He closed the door and turned to go back to the kitchen. On the floor of the entrance hall was a small, yellow envelope. Somebody had apparently put it through the mail slot. He picked it up. A Western Union telegram. He walked back into the kitchen, tossed it onto the table, sat down, and picked up his coffee, which was getting cold. “A telegram,” he said, picking up the envelope.
“That’s odd,” Joan replied.
“How so?” he asked, opening the envelope.
“There are no telegrams anymore. I mean, you can send a mailgram, I think, but I thought fax machines put telegrams out of business a long time ago.”
Stone unfolded the single sheet of yellow paper. It was an old-fashioned telegram, with strips of message glued to the paper. It read:
SORRY I MISSED LAST NIGHT. IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN.
BY THE WAY, DID YOU KNOW THE POLICE ARE WATCHING YOUR HOUSE?
YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE
Stone stared at the message, rereading it.
“Mr. Barrington,” Joan said. “Are you all right? You’ve turned pale.”
Stone realized that he felt pale. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is it bad news?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “Will you wait right here, Joan? Whatever you do, don’t leave the house or go near the front door.”
“All right,” she said, looking at him curiously.
Stone went to his study and called Dino on his private line.
“Bacchetti.”
“Dino, it’s Stone.”
“Morning. You feeling better?”
“I was until a minute ago.”
Dino’s voice changed. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve had a message from our perp.” Stone read the telegram. “It was pushed through the mail slot five minutes ago.”
“Hang on,” Dino said, putting him on hold.
Stone waited, feeling a little sick at the thought of what he might have gotten Joan Robertson into.
“You there?” Dino asked.
“Yes.”