D.C. Dead (18 page)

“Did you ever see Mr. Brix take Miss Charles into one of the bedrooms?”

“I guess ... I’m not sure.” Then her face changed, as she seemed to remember something. “Oh,” she said, “do you mean go into a bedroom and close the door?”

“Did you ever see Mr. Brix and Miss Charles go into a bedroom and close the door?”

“No,” she replied, “but once I...” She flushed a little.

“Go on, Mrs. Feliciano.”

“I don’t want to get anybody in trouble,” she said.

“Don’t worry, no one will get into trouble.”

“Well, once I saw that happen, but it wasn’t Miss Charles.”

“Who was the lady?”

“I don’t know. I went upstairs once to bring some linens that had come back from the laundry. It was early in the afternoon, when I’m not usually in the quarters. I clean in the mornings.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I was in the linen closet, putting away some sheets, and I heard some voices—a man and a woman. They were laughing. I stepped out of the closet just in time to see two people go into the Lincoln Bedroom. One of them, the man, was Mr. Brix.”

“And the other?”

“I couldn’t tell. I just saw her back for a second before Mr. Brix closed the door.”

“Think back. Is there anything at all you can remember about the woman? Tall or short? Heavy or slim? Blonde or brunette?”

She closed her eyes for a long moment, then she opened them. “No,” she said.

“What did you do then?”

She looked a little embarrassed. “I won’t get into trouble?”

“No, Mrs. Feliciano, you won’t get into trouble. Please be honest with us, this is very important.”

“Well . . . I went into the bedroom next door, into the bathroom that’s just next to the Lincoln Bedroom, and I . . .”

“Go on.”

“Well . . . I picked up the tooth glass and put it against the wall and put my ear to it. I could hear them talking.”

“And what were they saying?”

She flushed even more. “They ... it was sexy talk.”

“Can you repeat exactly what they said? Don’t be embarrassed, it’s important.”

“I heard her say, ‘I want it,’ and he said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to give it to you.’ And then they were on the bed. I could hear the bed squeaking. I think they were ... doing it.”

“What do you think they were doing?”

“What a man and a woman do in the bedroom.”

“Did you hear them say anything else?”

“No, just noises, like. Happy noises.”

“What did you do then?”

“I cleaned the glass, then I got out of the quarters. I didn’t want to be there when they came out of the bedroom.”

“Did you see them after that?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. But the next morning, I changed the sheets in the Lincoln Bedroom. They were ... stained, sort of.”

“Can you remember anything else, Mrs. Feliciano?”

She looked down. “I took something,” she said. “From the Lincoln Bedroom bathroom.”

“What did you take?”

Mrs. Feliciano’s purse was in her lap, and she opened it and rummaged around for a moment, then she held out something.

Stone took it from her and examined it. It was a lipstick tube, and the name “Pagan Spring” was printed on it.

“I didn’t think she would be coming back for it,” Mrs. Feliciano said.

“No, I suppose not,” Stone replied. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

“No, please do,” she replied. “It isnt mine, anyway, but I liked the color.”

“One more thing, Mrs. Feliciano,” Stone said. “Can you put a date to when this happened? Estimate when it was?”

“I know exactly when it was,” she said. “It was the day Mrs. Kendrick and Mr. Brix died. It was the last time I saw Mr. Brix.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Feliciano,” Stone said. “You’ve been a very big help.”

The woman gratefully fled the room.

“Okay,” Dino said, “your theory is starting to look a little better.”

31

STONE CALLED HOLLY ON HER PERSONAL CELL PHONE.

Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Stone.”

“Well, hello, stranger. How long has it been?”

“Uh, night before last?”

“Oh, right. I’m beginning to feel that I’m on a Stone-restricted diet.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel deprived. How about tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Room service and what you once so charmingly referred to as a ‘bounce.’”

“Oh, yes, I think I remember.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Stone said, contriving to sound hurt.

“Ah, yes, it’s coming back to me, now. That sounds like a good plan. You know those vodka gimlets you make at home?”

“I believe I recall the consumption of vodka gimlets.”

“Do you think you could make some for tonight?”

“I think I can manage to remember the recipe.”

“Oh, good. What is the recipe?”

“You’ll have to screw that out of me tonight, so to speak.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Is eight o’clock all right? I have to clear my desktop of some 1crap.”

“Eight will be just long enough for the gimlets to get frosty, before your arrival.”

“Until then, then.”

“Until then.” Stone hung up. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud to himself, then pressed the redial button.

“It’s me again,” she said.

“It’s me again, too. I forgot to ask you about something.”

“Does it involve national security?”

Stone thought about that. “I don’t know, but, as Fats Waller used to say, ‘One never knows, do one?’”

“Unlike yourself, I’m not old enough to remember who Fats Waller is, or was.”

“Was. The composer of ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ and a very great pianist.”

“Oh, yes. What was it you wanted to know?”

“Do you have any contacts at the DCPD?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Whether what you want to know from them is important enough for me to use up a favor over there.”

“Well, it’s important to
me
, since they may very well still consider me a suspect in the murder of Milly Hart. Is that important enough to use up a favor?”

“Hmmmmm.”

“Don’t be coy. You don’t want me arrested before tonight, do you?”

“Perhaps not. What do you want to know?”

“Do they still consider me a suspect in the murder of Milly Hart, and are there any new developments in that case?”

“That’s two favors.”

“Be cagey.”

“I can do that, I suppose.”

“You do it better than anybody I know.”