“Makes sense.”
“Then he meets the rich widow, and pretty soon he’s living in a much nicer house, and he doesn’t need the business anymore, or, for that matter, the wife, so he sells one and does away with the other, and he gets away with it. Now he’s rich, footloose and fancy fucking free, and he’s house-hunting in Palm Beach and shopping for a Bentley.”
“Okay, I buy it.”
“I don’t,” Dino said. “I don’t buy it for a minute.”
“What? Why not? You just convinced me.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a pushover for a good story, Stone. You always were.”
“What are you talking about, Dino? Have I missed something?”
“You usually do, pal, and this time it’s this: If Bartlett is Manning, why would he hunt down his ex-well, his previous wife and start harassing her? He risks bringing himself to the attention of the local police, which he has already done, and exposing himself-in the fully clothed sense of the expression. Why would he want to do that?”
“Because he’s pissed off at her for running off with all the money he stole, and he’s crazy as a fruit bat, and he knows how to hold a grudge.”
Dino didn’t say anything.
“Well?”
“Okay, maybe you’re right. After all, you can’t depend on criminals to behave sensibly. I got another question, though.”
“Okay.”
“He doesn’t look enough like he used to look for anybody to ID him, even you. You didn’t get a picture of the guy, so Allison can’t identify him because she won’t be in the same room with him, and the FBI won’t tell you who his prints belong to. How are you going to know, once and for all, who he is?”
“I wish you hadn’t asked that question.”
“Because you don’t know the answer?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
Dino sighed deeply. “It looks like I’m going to have to come down there and straighten this out for you.”
Stone had sort of been hoping he would; he missed Dino.
“You’ll have to bring Mary Ann.”
“Nah, she won’t come while the kid’s in school.”
“How is Ben?”
“Well, his grandfather hasn’t turned him into a made man yet.”
“And how is Eduardo?”
“As mean as ever. He never gets older, just meaner.”
“And Dolce?”
“I don’t know. Mary Ann won’t talk about her. I guess she’s still nuts. Eduardo’s got her locked up in farthest Brooklyn, and I don’t see her ever getting out.”
“When can you come?”
“Tomorrow, the next day, maybe. I can get the time off, I think. Can you find me a sack?”
“Sure, and a nice one, too.”
“I’ll call you with my flight number.”
“I’ll be there.”
“See you.”
“See you.”
25
The following morning it was, to Stone’s astonishment, raining, and raining hard. Juanito had put up clear curtains around the afterdeck, so Stone had breakfast alone there and checked with Joan for messages. He returned half a dozen calls, including one to Bill Eggers.
“I spoke to Thad yesterday,” Eggers said, “and he is one happy client. I hope you’re not thinking of coming back to New York before you clear up any remaining problems. If you do, I’ll have you hit over the head in the airport and put on the next airplane back to Palm Beach.”
“Oh, I’m sticking it out,” Stone said, “and it has turned interesting.”
“How so?”
Stone went through the whole story once again.
“You know,” Eggers said when Stone had finished, “being a partner in this firm is not nearly as interesting as what you do.”
“Probably not. By the way, I sat next to one of your clients at dinner last night-a Lila Baldwin.”
“Oh, God,” Eggers groaned. “Be careful around her. Once, during a discussion of estate tax avoidance, she grabbed my crotch.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“I was, I can tell you.”
“You’ve led a sheltered life.”
“Right, and I’d better get back to it. Call me if you need any backup.”
“Will do.”
Stone had hardly hung up when the phone rang. He punched a button. “Shames residence.”
“May I speak with a Mr. Stone Barrington, please?” A male voice.
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Barrington, my name is Ebbe Lundquist. I’m with the Minneapolis Police Department.”
“How are you?”
“Okay. Earlier this morning I had a very interesting conversation with Chief Griggs of the Palm Beach PD.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, and I immediately checked our records on Mrs. Frances Bartlett.”
“And what did you find?”
“I found that the smashup was handled as an accident by the traffic division of the sheriff’s department, and since they didn’t suspect foul play, we were never brought into it. Apart from reading about it in the papers, this was the first I’ve known about it.”
“I’m glad Dan Griggs enlightened you.”
“He said that you enlightened him. You’re ex-NYPD, right?”
“Right.”
“Ever work homicide?”
“For many years.”
“You think this was a homicide?”
“It has that distinct odor.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Griggs told you about Bartlett’s little identity problem?”
“Yes, we’re looking at that now.”
“That’s a tip-off. Then there’s the fact that Mrs. Bartlett rescinded a prenuptial agreement and made a new will in Paul Bartlett’s favor less than a month before she was killed. And I understand she was very rich.”
“First I’ve heard of that,” Lundquist said. “I’ll check it out. We’re looking for the wrecked car, too. Right now, I’m not sure where it is.”
“I’d be very interested in what you learn,” Stone said.
“Tell me, what’s your interest in Paul Bartlett?”
“He may be harassing a client of mine.”
“Enough harassment to put him in jail?”
“Not yet, not unless he tries to harm her.”
“So, if we arrested him for the murder of his wife, that would be okay with you, huh?”
“Sure would. But please don’t think I’m trying to frame him for it to get my client off the hook. The information that Griggs and I passed on to you is just what I came up with, almost by accident. If he’s a murderer, I’d like to see him nailed for it, but I’m not positive he’s the guy who’s harassing my client. There’s a physical resemblance, and that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Griggs told you about the FBI hold on his fingerprint file?”
“Yeah. I’ve run into that once before. It’s not going to help.”
“I don’t see how it would hurt a homicide investigation. You can convict him as Bartlett or as John Doe; you don’t need his real identity. I’m the one who needs that, so if you come up with something along those lines, I’d really like to hear about it.”
“Can I reach you at this number?”
“Yes, and I’ll give you my cell phone number, too.” He recited the number.
“Got it. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you know where this guy can be found?”
“No. He checked out of the Chesterfield Hotel yesterday and didn’t leave a forwarding address. He says he’s house-hunting, and that he bought a Bentley. So far, he doesn’t seem to have any interest in leaving Palm Beach, unless he’s worried about me. I did ask him a few pointed questions.”
“Do me a favor and don’t crowd him. If we get something on him, I want him where I can find him.”
“Our interests may diverge there,” Stone said. “I have to put my client’s safety first.”
“Okay, okay, just try not to scare him out of town.”
“I won’t, unless I have to.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you.”
“Bye.” Stone hung up and greeted Callie, who was still yawning. “Sleep late?”