6 Stone Barrington Novels (76 page)

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Authors: Stuart Woods

BOOK: 6 Stone Barrington Novels
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“Look,” the agent said, “maybe we got off on the wrong foot, here. My name is Miles, and this is my partner, Nevins. We'd really appreciate your help, Lieutenant Bacchetti.”
“Why didn't you say so?” Dino said expansively. “Have a seat.” He kicked chairs in the agents' direction, and they both sat down.
“Can I get you something?” Dino asked, the generous host, now that he had brought the two men into line.
“No, thanks,” Miles said.
“What can I do for you?” Dino asked.
“A couple of days ago, your office in New York ran a match on some fingerprints in our computer.”
Dino said nothing.
“Isn't that right?”
“If you say so. We probably run prints a dozen times a day.”
“You ran a set of prints that matched with a thumbprint we got from a note passed to a teller in a bank robbery in Virginia.”
“So?”
“We want to know where you got the prints.”
“Didn't you ask my office?”
“They wouldn't tell us. They said we had to talk to you, and you were in Palm Beach, so we drove up here from Miami this morning.”
“How much did the bank robber get?” Dino asked.
“About thirty thousand, I think. I'm not sure.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dino said. “You two guys got into your government car and drove all the way up here from Miami, using government gas, in pursuit of a guy who got thirty grand from a bank four years ago?”
“That's right,” Miles replied.
“Well, Agent Miles, I'm not too sure I approve of the way you people are spending my tax dollars,” Dino said.
“I don't understand,” Miles replied.
Stone spoke up. “Neither does Lieutenant Bacchetti. He can't figure out why you fellows are making this kind of effort to track down a penny-ante, walk-in bank robber who the bank won't even make the effort to prosecute.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't get your name,” Miles said.
“Stone Barrington.”
“Well, Mr. Barrington, bank robbery is a very serious crime.”
“Gee, the bank doesn't think so. When you catch this guy, they won't even send somebody down to court to testify against him.”
“No matter what the banks think, the FBI considers bank robbery to be a very serious crime,” Miles said. “It eats away at the roots of our economic system, if we let people get away with stealing even what you consider a small amount from a bank.”
“No kidding?” Stone said.
“What else did this guy do?” Dino asked.
“I'm sorry?”
“Come on, Agent Miles, you're not here about a bank robbery. What did the guy do?”
“That's confidential.”
“I'm a police officer. Mr. Barrington, here, used to be a police officer, and now he's a distinguished member of the bar. You can tell us.”
“Those are not my instructions.”
“What
are
your instructions?”
“I'm, ah, not at liberty to say.”
“Well, Agent Miles, if you want information from me, you'd better be at liberty to trade a little information.”
“Lieutenant, why are you being so difficult about this? All we want is to catch a bank robber.”
“No, that's not all you want. You want to catch an entirely different animal, and I want to know the species.”
Miles took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “Lieutenant, you're interfering with an FBI investigation.”
“Oh? Well, I'm terribly sorry. Did it ever occur to you that you might be interfering with
my
investigation?”
“I think a federal investigation takes precedence.”
“That's what you guys always think,” Dino said. “You never think that something the NYPD is investigating might be as important as what the FBI is investigating.”
“That's not true,” Miles insisted.
“They're not going to tell us anything, are they?” Dino asked.
“Doesn't look like it.”
“Then why should
we
tell
them
anything?”
“I can't think of a good reason,” Stone said.
“This is obstruction,” Miles said indignantly. “You obviously know something about this perpetrator.”
“I didn't say that,” Dino replied.
“Neither did I,” Stone said.
“Look, Lieutenant, I could take this to your superior,” Miles said.
“Oh, my captain would love that,” Dino said. “Assuming you could even get him on the phone, he'd love you wasting his time about some dime-a-dozen bank job. He'd really call me in on the carpet about that.”
“How about this, Agent Miles,” Stone said. “Why don't you just tell us why the checking of this guy's prints would raise a flag on the FBI's computer system? It can't be just this bank robbery.”
“If I told you that . . .” Miles stopped and thought better. “I can't tell you that,” he said.
“Agent Miles,” Dino said, “I'm trying hard to see some reason why I should help out the FBI, which wouldn't cross the street to help
me
out on an investigation.”
Miles produced his card. “Here's my number,” he said, handing the card to Dino. “I'll owe you one. A big one. Anytime you need a favor from the Bureau, you can call me.”
Dino took the card. “How about you, Agent Nevins? Are you going to owe me one, too?”
Nevins produced a card and handed it over. “Yes, yes, I am.”
“Well, now we're getting somewhere,” Dino said. “Stone, tell the agents what you know about this guy.”
“His name—or at least, one of his names—is William Charles Danforth, of a P Street address in Washington, D.C., a town with which you are no doubt familiar. Some years ago his name was Paul Manning, and he was a well-known author.”
“Have you ever seen this man?” Miles asked.
“Yes, a couple of days ago.”
“Can you give me a description?”
“Late forties, six-three or -four, two hundred pounds, dark hair going gray.”
“Facial characteristics?”
“I haven't a clue.”
“But you say you saw him a couple of days ago.”
“That's right, but he had a big bandage right in the middle of his face. I had the distinct impression that he didn't want me to know what he looked like. Maybe he was afraid I might be talking to the FBI.”
“Do you know his present whereabouts?”
“A man answering his description has been seen in Palm Beach, but I've no idea if it's the same man.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“Nope.”
Miles and Nevins stood up. “Thank you very much, Mr. Barrington, Lieutenant Bacchetti. We owe you one.”
“You already said that,” Dino pointed out.
“We'll be going, then,” Miles said.
“Don't let the doorknob hit you in the ass on your way out,” Dino said.
Miles looked at the gangplank. “There isn't a doorknob,” he said.
Dino looked at Stone. “You can't fool the FBI, can you?”
“Nope,” Stone agreed.
The two agents left.
When they had gone, Stone turned to Dino. “I'm surprised you cooperated. Why did you want me to tell them about Manning?”
“The sonofabitch set my yacht adrift,” Dino said.
58
N
O SOONER HAD THE FBI MEN LEFT THAN LIZ CAME out of the house and walked to the yacht. She came aboard and gave both Stone and Dino a big kiss. She was carrying an envelope and two gift-wrapped boxes.
“I just want to thank you both so much,” she said, sitting down.
“You're welcome,” Stone said. “Glad to be of service.”
“Same here,” Dino echoed. “Only I haven't been of all that much service.”
“Of course you have,” Liz said. “And I want to thank you. First of all,” she said, handing Stone the envelope, “here's a check for your legal services.”
Stone slipped the envelope into a pocket without looking inside. “Thank you, Liz.”
“Second,” she said, handing Stone the larger of the two packages, “this is to express my personal thanks for your friendship and your concern for me. Even though your job as my lawyer is done, I think of you as my friend.”
“Thank you again,” Stone said, accepting the box.
“And, Dino,” she said, handing him the smaller of the two boxes, “this is for you, for taking the time and trouble to come down here and help out Stone. And for stopping that horrible man from hurting anyone else in that restaurant shoot-out.”
“Thank you, ma'am,” Dino said.
“Don't open them yet,” she said, holding up a hand. “I'd be embarrassed.” She stood up. “I have to run, now. Callie and I are going to town to look for dresses for the wedding.” With a little wave, she departed the yacht and headed back toward the house.
“You first,” Dino said.
“No, you.”
Dino opened his gift. Inside was a handsome gold pen from Cartier. “Very nice,” he said. “I'll be the envy of the precinct. What'd she get you?”
Stone opened the package to find a large, red Cartier box inside. He opened it and held the contents up for Dino to see.
Dino took the box from Stone and gave a low whistle. “Hey, now, that's
really
nice.”
Stone took back the box and removed the wristwatch from it. “Certainly is,” he said. He took off his steel Rolex, put it into his pocket and slipped on the new watch.
Dino picked up the red booklet that came with the watch. “Cartier Tank Francaise,” he read. “You pick the best clients.”
“I guess I do.”
Juanito approached with the telephone. “For you, Mr. Barrington.”
“Hello?”
“Stone, it's Dan Griggs. Did some FBI agents come see you?”
“Yes, they just left.”
“Now I've got a guy from the Houston PD wants to talk to you.”
“Houston, Texas?”
“One and the same. What the hell is going on down there?”
“I don't have the foggiest, Dan.”
“I'm sending the guy to you right now. His name is Fritz Parker.”
“Okay. I'll be here.” Stone hung up.
“What?” Dino asked.
“A Houston cop wants to talk to me.”
“You committed any crimes in Houston?”
“I've never even been to Houston.”
 
Twenty minutes later a middle-aged man in a seersucker suit walked up the gangplank. “Lieutenant Bacchetti?” he asked.
“That's me,” Dino said.
“I'm Fritz Parker, Houston PD. Can I have a word with you?”
“Sure, pull up a chair. This is Stone Barrington.”
“How do you do?” Parker said, shaking hands. “Lieutenant, do you mind if we talk alone?”
“You can talk in front of Stone,” Dino said. “He used to be my partner, before he became a rich lawyer.”
“All right.” Parker sat down.
“In fact, Dan Griggs said you wanted to see Stone.”
“No, I wanted to see you. Chief Griggs told me you were Mr. Barrington's guest.”
“Okay, what can I do for you?”
“A couple of days ago, your precinct ran some fingerprints that matched an unknown perpetrator from a bank robbery in Virginia, four years ago.”
“Jesus,” Dino said. “The FBI was just here about that.”
“They were? I asked for their help, but I didn't know they were coming.”
“Typical,” Dino said. “They liked what you told them, so they're poaching on your territory.”
“It's what they do,” Stone said.
“What's this about?” Dino asked. “Can't be the bank robbery.”
“No. At least my department has no interest in that; the FBI might. I'm here about a possible homicide.”
Dino and Stone looked at each other.
“Manning has been a busy guy,” Stone said.
“Manning?” Parker asked.
“The fingerprint belongs to a man named Paul Manning. Or, at least, that used to be his name.”
“Tell us about the homicide,” Dino said.
“It was last year,” Parker said. “A Houston business-man died of an apparent heart attack, but our medical examiner wasn't entirely satisfied with that as a cause of death.”
“What did he suspect?” Stone asked.
“Poisoning, of a very special kind. Apparently, there are two common household products which, when mixed, create a poison that can't be analyzed.”
“I've heard about that poison,” Stone said, “but I don't know what the household products are.”
“Neither do I,” Parker said, “and the ME wouldn't tell me. Said it's not the sort of knowledge that should be spread around, and I think I agree. He did look around the house and said both products were present.”
“But why do you think Manning had anything to do with this?”
“Because this guy Manning, if that's who he is, left a thumbprint on a bedside glass, right next to the body.”
“And these two chemicals were in the glass?”
“No, the glass was clean, except for the thumbprint. The ME theorizes that the murderer removed the glass containing the poisons and substituted a clean one.”
“And what was the outcome of the case?”
“It's still open,” Parker said, “until we can find the owner of the fingerprint and question him. Do you have any idea where I can find Paul Manning?”

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