“That someone would have a favorable opinion of me?”
Eggers laughed. “Not someone; Eduardo. He’s not easy to impress.”
Stone was about to inquire further about this conversation when a hubbub arose down the hallway, and he looked around to see Martin Brougham walking slowly down the hallway, surrounded by half a dozen reporters. As he approached, Eggers stood up; Stone remained seated.
“Good morning, Marty,” Eggers boomed, apparently oblivious to the press. He stuck out his hand, and Brougham was forced to shake it.
“Morning, Bill; if you’ll excuse me…”
“Marty, I heard that you were interested in subpoenaing Stone Barrington, so I’ve saved you the trouble and brought Stone down here for you to question before the grand jury,” He beckoned to Stone.
Stone stood up and offered his hand to Brougham. When the man took it, Stone hung on. “Good morning, Mr. Brougham,” he said, loudly enough for microphones to pick up. “I’ve come down here voluntarily to answer any questions you may have about my relationship with Susan Bean and my actions on the night she was murdered. Do you think you could take me first this morning?”
Brougham was flustered but tried not to show it. “I’ll, uh, see what I can do, Mr. Barrington,” he said. “And I appreciate your volunteering to testify.”
“I absolutely insist on testifying,” Stone said, still hanging on to the man’s hand. “You’ll remember that I told you some time ago that I’d be glad to cooperate in any way I can.”
“Yes, Yes,” Brougham said, wresting his hand from Stone’s grasp. “If you’ll just have a seat, Mr. Barrington, I’ll try to get to you soon.”
Eggers spoke up again. “Marty, could I speak to you privately for a moment? I have some information that might bear on this case, and I’d like to convey it to you before you convene the grand jury.”
“Sorry, Bill, I don’t have time right now; maybe later today.” He turned and started into the jury room.
“I did try to reach you by phone yesterday,” Eggers called after him. The door closed behind Brougham.
The reporters crowded around Eggers. “What information do you have for the DA, Mr. Eggers?” one of them asked.
“I think I’d better convey it to Mr. Brougham before I discuss it with you,” Eggers said to the man. “Please excuse me.” He sat down next to Stone. “He’s going to have to call you to testify, now,” he whispered. “If he doesn’t, the press will practically assassinate him.”
Stone sat quietly and waited. Other witnesses for the grand jury filed into the hallway and took seats. Stone exchanged greetings with a uniformed sergeant from the Nineteenth Precinct, Tim Ryan, whom he had known for years. As they were chatting, Stone’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me, Tim,” he said to the cop. He walked to the end of the corridor and took out the phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino.”
Stone could hear him grinning. “What’s up?”
“We went into Tom Deacon’s apartment an hour ago, and guess what we found?”
“The murder weapon, I hope.”
“We weren’t quite that lucky, but we did find Susan Bean’s diary.”
“Oh, that’s good!” Stone said. “Have you read it?”
“You bet I have; it’s telegraphic, but it lays out her knowledge of the doctored tapes in the Dante trial.”
“Does the diary implicate-Brougham?”
“Not directly, but it’s hard to see how, if Bean knew about the tape, Marty didn’t. Anyway, it’s a first-rate motive for Deacon; the very fact that he had possession of the diary is incriminating. It makes him our number one suspect and Mick Kelly an accessory after the fact. At the very least, I can get Kelly bounced from the force for not reporting Deacon’s presence near the scene of the murder.”
“Have you picked up Deacon?”
“Not yet, but we’re looking for him; Kelly, too. I haven’t put out an APB yet; I don’t want to spook either of them.”
“That’s great news, Dino, and it comes at a very good time for me.”
“Have you testified, yet?”
“I’m waiting to go in, now.”
“Give Brougham hell for me.”
“You bet I will; can I use what you’ve told me?”
“Go right ahead. See you later.”
“You coming to Bianchi’s for dinner tonight?”
“I’ve been invited,” Dino said.
“See you there.” Stone hung up and returned to the bench.
“What’s up?” Eggers asked.
“You’re not going to believe…” Stone was interrupted as the door to the grand-jury room opened and a bailiff stuck his head out.
“Call Stone Barrington!” he yelled.
Stone stood up. “Right here.”
The man opened the door and ushered Stone inside the grand-jury room.
Stone walked quickly to the stand and sat down. He was faced with the members of the grand jury, ordinary-looking people seated on raised tiers before him. Martin Brougham stood, looking confident, his hands folded before him. The bailiff swore in Stone.
“State your name and address for the record,” Brougham said.
Stone did so. He added, “I would like to state for the record that I have not been subpoenaed but have volunteered to appear before this panel.”
“Yes, yes,” Brougham said irritably. “Mr. Barrington, how do you earn your living?”
“I’m an attorney-at-law,” Stone replied.
“You were once a police officer, were you not?”
“I was. I served fourteen years with the NYPD, finishing as a detective second grade.”
“And what were the circumstances of your leaving the department? Why didn’t you serve until you could take retirement benefits?”
“I was wounded in the line of duty and, as a result, discharged from the department for medical reasons – with full pension and benefits.” This seemed to bring Brougham up short. Apparently, Stone thought, he hadn’t been prepared for this answer.
“I see,” Brougham said, recovering himself. “Were you acquainted with a Susan Bean before her death?”
“I was,” Stone replied. “I met her at your home.” He gave the date.
Brougham grimaced; he clearly hadn’t wanted that in the record. “And you knew her previous to that date, didn’t you?”
“I once defended a client in whose prosecution she assisted, but I have very little memory of her from that time. When I met her in your home I had no recollection of ever having met her before; nor did she mention any previous meeting.”
“Is it not a fact that, some years ago, you met Ms. Bean in a bar, picked her up, took her home, and seduced her?”
“I have already given you my entire recollection of my acquaintance with Ms. Bean. I have nothing to add to that.”
“Did you seduce her?”
“Asked and answered.”
Brougham turned his body so that he could face the grand jury while asking Stone his next question. “Is it not a fact, Mr. Barrington, that in a moment of blind rage, you murdered Susan Bean?”
“It is not a fact; I did not murder Susan Bean or harm her in any way,” Stone replied calmly, addressing his answer to the jury.
Brougham took a deep breath, rose on his toes, and raised his voice. “Is it not a fact…”
“It is a fact,” Stone said, interrupting Brougham, “that I was informed just a few minutes ago in a telephone conversation with Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, who heads the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct, that there is a new prime suspect in the murder of Ms. Bean, and that he is now being sought by the police.”
Brougham expelled a lungful of air in a strangled grunt. “What did…?”
“Lieutenant Bacchetti tells me that the prime suspect is one Thomas Deacon, who heads the investigative division of the District Attorney’s Office.”