D.C. Dead (19 page)

“That’s high praise, coming from you, slick.”

“I meant being cagey.”

“What a disappointment!”

“I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

“Good. Suckle you later, honey.” She hung up.

Dino looked across the room at him. “I can only imagine her side of the conversation,” he said.

“Dream on,” Stone said, then picked up the phone again and called room service.

“Yes, Mr. Barrington?” a woman’s voice said. “Or is it Mr. Bacchetti?”

“Right the first time,” Stone said.

“What may room service serve you?”

“A bottle of your cheapest vodka and a bottle of Rose’s sweetened lime juice.”

“Is that dinner for one or two?”

“That’s cocktails, honest. I’ll order dinner later.”

“I’m afraid our cheapest vodka isn’t very cheap,” she replied. “Just between us, you’d do a lot better at a liquor store.”

“But then I’d have to go to a liquor store.”

“ size="3May I make a recommendation?”

“Of course.”

“Call the bell captain and have him send a bellman around the corner for your order. Tip him fifty dollars, and you’ll save a hundred and fifty.”

“What a grand idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve obviously never bought a bottle of spirits from hotel room service before.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Yes, you could send up canapes for two.” His attention was attracted by Dino, who was waving both hands. “Make that for three.”

“Hot or cold?”

“Room temperature.”

“It will be done. Good evening, Mr. Barrington.”

“Good evening.” They both hung up. Stone called the bell captain, and twenty minutes later a bellman appeared at the door with a brown paper bag, grinning in anticipation. Stone handed him a hundred and took the bag.

“Thank
you
,” the man said, then dematerialized.

Stone went to the bar and looked around. “We don’t seem to have a measuring cup,” he said.

“Do we have a shot glass?” Dino asked.

Stone looked further. “No.”

“How much vodka do you have to pour out of the bottle?”

“Six ounces.”

“Stop at the top of the label,” Dino said.

Stone found a tumbler and poured the six ounces into it, then he refilled the bottle with the Rose’s and held it up to the light. “That looks perfect,” he said. “Where did you learn that?”

“From you,” Dino said.

“When?”

“One night when we had finished a bottle of gimlets and you had to make some more. You had a measuring cup that time, but you were still sober enough to notice that, after pouring out six ounces, the vodka level was at the top of the label. You weren’t sober enough to remember it, though.”

“Now I know why I hang around with you,” Stone said, tucking the bottle of gimlets into the freezer compartment of the bar fridge.

“Nah,” Dino said, “you hang around with me to learn, not to remember.”

Stone held up the tumbler of spare vodka. “What am I going to do with this?”

“You’ll think of something,” Dino said.

32

HOLLY TOOK THE FIRST SIP OF HER FIRST GIMLET. “WOW,” she said. “Super cold!”

“Colder than ice,” Stone said, “because alcohol freezes at a much lower temperature than water—that’s the point. You don’t have to water it down by putting it in a cocktail shaker with ice.” He offered her a canape.

She chose something with smoked salmon on it. “Yum.”

Stone took a sip of his gimlet. “I concur in your judgment of this drink.”

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“What did you find out from the DCPD?”

“I thought you’d get around to asking that,” she said, taking another pull at her gimlet.

“What, did you think I asked you over here for the sex?”

“God, I hope so.”

“Come on, cough it up.”

“The detective lieutenant I spoke with expressed considerable disappointment,” she said.

“In what was he disappointed?”

“He was disappointed that he couldn’t find a way to hang the murder on you.”

“Well, gee, the poor guy. Maybe I should send him roses, or something.”

“Or something.”

“What else did he say about the case?”

“In addition to being disappointed, he was relieved.”

“Relieved that he couldn’t hang it on me?”

“No, relieved that he couldn’t hang it on Paul Brandon, Muffy’s spouse. Mr. Brandon is very prominent and well connected locally, and he could have created all sorts of problems for the department if they’d charged him. They were very pleased that there was no substantive evidence against him.”

“Well, I’m so happy Mr. Brandon has been spared their further attention. Do they have any fucking idea who killed Milly?”

“Oh, you and Milly were on a first-name basis, were you?” she asked archly.

“Oh, yeah, I mean we knew each other for a good twenty-four hours.”

“‘Knew,’ in the biblical sense?”

“Come on.”

“She was, after all, a very beautiful woman,” Holly pointed out.

“I can’t argue that point.”

“Do you think her death has anything to do with your investigation?”

“Of course I do. As a result of speaking to her, Dino and I are conducting a new round of questioning of people who work in the White House. We’re talking with Brix Kendrick’s former secretary tomorrow.”

“And what do you expect to learn from her?”

“More about Brix Kendrick, and who he was fucking in the White House.”

“I’m sorry, I must have missed something.”

Stone told her about the questioning of Mrs. Feliciano.

“So she found the lipstick!”

“Yes, and Dino is giving it to Shelley so the FBI lab can do its thing.”

“You think they’ll find something on the lipstick a year later?”

“Once again, I refer you to Fats Waller.”

“And what she saw in the family quarters happened on the same day the Kendricks died?”

“The very same day. Mrs. Feliciano was very specific about that.”

Dino finished his drink and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, Shelley and I are dining out tonight.” He held up the lipstick in a plastic bag and dropped it into his coat pocket s coat p.

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Holly said.

“There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do,” Dino said, then left.

“Hungry?” Stone asked, handing her a room service menu.

“Ravenous,” she replied, pinching his cheek.