“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 to 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.”
“I had lunch with her,” Stone said.
“And what time did you leave her apartment?”
“Around four.”
“Then maybe you can tell us how the lady got dead.”
27
Stone stared at the cop. “What are you talking about?”
“And you were the last person to see her alive,” the cop said.
“Tell me what has happened before you ask me another question,” Stone said.
The cop consulted his notebook. “A gentleman named Brandon arrived at the Watergate apartments at five P.M., and the doorman, as instructed by Ms. Hart, sent him straight up. No phone call was made. Mr. Brandon arrived on her floor, and when the elevator doors opened, he found Ms. Hart lying in the vestibule, wearing some sort of negligee, dead.”
“How was she killed?” Stone asked.
“It’s too soon for the ME’s report,” the cop said, “but from the looks of her, she was bludgeoned to death with a blunt instrument.”
“Time of death?”
“We don’t have that yet, but it happened sometime between when you arrived for lunch, a little after one P.M., and when Mr. Brandon arrived at five.”
Stone looked at his watch. “It’s five forty-five. How’d you get here so fast?”
“There’s a captain, a lieutenant, four detectives, and a crime-scene team on the spot. They didn’t need us, so we were sent over here as soon as we arrived.”
“How’d you know where to find me?”
“Are you kidding?” the cop asked. “Everybody in town knows about you two.”
“Yeah, I know,” Stone said. “It’s Washington.”
“Right.”
“All right, then,” Stone said, “I left at four. She died sometime between then and five. You’ve got a better window.”
“We’ve got a better window, if we buy your story.”
“He got here at four-fifteen,” Dino said. “I’m your witness, and the hotel staff can put me here since breakfast.”
The two cops looked at each other. “Okay,” Paulson said, “she died between four and five.”
“I take it there was a lot of blood,” Stone said. “Was it clotting yet?”
“It was slippery,” Paulson replied.
“Then closer to five than four.”
“Makes sense,” Paulson said. “The woman was wearing a negligee with a kind of robe over it.”
“It’s called a peignoir,” Stone said, then spelled it for him.
Paulson wrote it down. “Okay, if you say so. Is that what she was wearing when you last saw her?”
Stone took a breath to answer, then stopped.
“Let me make it easier for you,” Paulson said. “There’ll be a rape kit.”
“All right,” Stone said, “she was naked when I last saw her. She walked me to the elevator.”
Paulson made a note.
“But your rape kit won’t show anything from me, she was too fastidious a person. The fact that she was wearing the peignoir is an indication that she bathed or showered, then got dressed.”
“And why do you think she was fastidious?” Paulson asked.
“You’ll have to take my word for it,” Stone said.
“The word around town is that the lady has been receiving paying guests for some time,” Padgett said, speaking for the first time.
“I think that when you investigate further, you’ll find that the rumors about that are untrue, that she doesn’t need funds from men. She did tell me she had had a number of lovers since her husband’s death, and I knew about Brandon.”
“She tell you about him?”
“Dino and I left there yesterday, just as Brandon arrived.”
“That’s true,” Dino said.
“You know Brandon, do you?”
“Only by sight,” Stone said. “We spoke with his wife yesterday at their home, as part of our investigation. We saw him leave the house just before we arrived. Ms. Hart told me she had a weekly appointment with him, always on a different day.”
“So Brandon saw her both yesterday and today?” Padgett asked.
“So it seems.”
“That doesn’t sound like weekly to me.”
“No, it doesn’t. She didn’t explain the extra visit this week. I have to tell you, fellas, Brandon sounds like a better fit for this than me.”
“Maybe,” Padgett said, “but why would he see her weekly for months, then get off the elevator one day, bludgeon her to death, then call us?”
“He made the call?”
“From his cell phone. He waited for us in the lobby.”
“Then maybe he isn’t such a good fit,” Stone said.
“You got any other theories about who might have done this?” Padgett asked. “Anything she said to you … at lunch give you any clues?”
Stone shook his head. “Nobody comes to mind from what she said. I don’t have a name for you.”
“You think this killing might somehow be related to your investigation?” Padgett asked.
“I don’t have any evidence to support that theory.”
“All right,” Padgett said, and the two cops stood up. He handed Stone a card. “If you think of anything, you know the drill.”
“I do,” Stone said. “And I’ll call.” He showed the cops out.
“Well,” Dino said, “you didn’t actually lie to them.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But you do think the killing is related to our investigation?”
“I have that hunch,” Stone said. “I think somebody thought Milly might tell us something and wanted to shut her up. But, as I told the cops, I don’t have any evidence to support that.”
“You don’t have any evidence to support anything,” Dino said.
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think your hunch is right, and I think your theory about a lover inside the White House is looking better, too.”
“Thank you, Dino.”
“Why don’t you make that call and set up the meeting with the maids who clean the family quarters?”
Stone picked up the phone and called Fair Sutherlin’s direct line.
“Ms. Sutherlin’s office, this is Charlotte Kirby,” a woman said.
“This is Stone Barrington, Ms. Kirby. Is Ms. Sutherlin available?”
“She’s got somebody in there at the moment,” the secretary said.
“Would you tell her that I’d be grateful if she would set up a meeting with the staff who clean the president’s family quarters?”
“Certainly, I will.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“I’ll tell her that, and I’ll probably be the one setting up the meeting. May I reach you at the Hay-Adams, Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes. And thank you, Ms. Kirby.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Barrington.” She hung up.
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