Worst Fears Realized (8 page)

“Yes, it is. I was so glad to hear from you that I completely forgot that I have to be circumspect about whom I see. This started only very recently, and I’m still getting used to the idea that I shouldn’t endanger other people by associating with them.”

“Well, this is really very exciting, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t want it to get too exciting.”

“Surely, you don’t think you’re endangering me simply by having dinner.”

“I took some precautions to see that I wasn’t followed
, and there are several police officers downstairs. One of them is operating your elevator.”

Sarah burst out laughing. “This is hilarious,” she said. “I must say, I’ve never had a gun served with champagne.” She sipped the wine. “And Krug! It’s delicious.” She leaned over and kissed him. “And so are you.”

“When did you get back?”

“Yesterday; I’m still not entirely over the jet lag. I came by way of London, saw my parents for a few days.”

“Are you going back to Tuscany?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m back for a show of my work that will open next week—all the work that I’ve done for the past six years.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Stone said.

“I’ll give you a preview; I promise. Now you know that all
I
have done these past years is cloister myself in Tuscany and work; bring me up to date on you.”

“I’ll give you the short version. What exactly was I doing the last time we saw each other?”

“You were still on the police force, although I heard through friends that you left, and I remember that you had inherited that lovely old house from an aunt, I believe, and you were doing most of the remodeling work yourself.”

“A great aunt, and yes, I couldn’t afford to hire many people on my cop’s salary.”

“And you had gotten yourself shot and were recovering.”

“Right.”

“Where was it?”

“In the knee.”

“Oh, yes; no place important, then.”

Stone laughed. “So I retired from the force on a full-disability pension—I was nudged in that direction, if the truth be known. I was being awkward about a case I was working on, and somebody decided I shouldn’t be there anymore.”

“You were always the most unlikely policeman.” Sarah laughed.

“That’s pretty much what the NYPD thought.”

“So then what did you do? Live off the fat of the land?”

“I had my law degree, so I boned up and took the bar exam. I’m of counsel to Woodman and Weld.”

“I know that name; a prestigious firm, I believe. What does ‘of counsel’ mean?”

“It means I handle their clients’ more delicate problems. I work out of an office in my home rather than from the firm’s offices.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“It sometimes is.”

“Are you prosperous, then?”

“More so than I had ever dreamed I would be. The house is finished and furnished; I live very nearly in the lap of luxury.”

“You’re certainly dressing better,” she said, stroking his jacket.

“I’d like to think I’m doing everything better,” he said.

“That remains to be seen.” She chuckled, her voice low. She stood up. “Come into the kitchen with me and watch me cook.”

“I’d love to,” he said. “May I make a phone call first? I promised I’d call Dino.”

“Of course; there’s a phone over there.” She pointed.

Stone went to the phone and dialed Dino’s number; he got an answering machine. “Dino, it’s Stone; I’m in Sarah’s apartment.” He repeated the number. “Everything seems all set downstairs; Anderson is running the elevator. Don’t call me unless it’s important.” He hung up, grabbed the champagne bottle, and followed Sarah toward the kitchen.

13

T
HE KITCHEN GLEAMED WITH RESTAURANT-
quality appliances and granite countertops. Sarah seated Stone on a stool where he could watch, then she went to the huge range, poured a generous dollop of olive oil into a skillet, and while it was heating, chopped some plum tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil. When the oil was sizzling, she dropped half a dozen slices of Italian bread into it and fried them on both sides. She arranged a small platter with the bread slices, then spooned the mixture of tomatoes, garlic, and basil onto each slice. She picked up the platter and headed for the door.

“Follow me,” she said.

Stone grabbed the bottle of Amerone and followed her through a swinging door and into a charming little corner dining room, where the table was already set for two.

“This is where the family dines,” she said. “There’s
a much larger dining room through there, with a table that seats eighteen.” She nodded at the door.

Stone lit the candles on the table, and they sat down facing the windows, which overlooked Central Park and the lights of the city to the south. He poured them both a glass of wine and raised his glass. “Happy reunions,” he said.

“Hear, hear,” she replied, sipping her wine. “Oh, this is
huge
. What is it?”

“An Amerone.”

“Luscious. Now eat your bruscetta.”

Stone sliced off a chunk of bread and put it into his mouth. “Wonderful,” he said. “It’s so simple, but it’s really terrific.”

“Glad you approve. I told you I learned a lot in Tuscany.”

“Where exactly were you?”

“In the Chianti country, north of Siena and south of Florence.”

“Do you know I’ve never been to Europe?”

Sarah looked shocked. “I don’t believe it.”

“When I was a cop, I couldn’t afford it, and now I always seem to be too busy.”

“We will cure that condition,” she said. “Just as soon as my show is launched.”

“That might be fun,” he replied, swallowing the last of his bruscetta.

“It certainly will be, I assure you.” She took away his plate. “The main course is in the oven; I’ll be right back.”

Stone sipped his wine and gazed out over the park. He loved his house, he thought, but it didn’t have views like this.

Sarah returned with a hot crockery dish. “Cannelloni,” she said, serving him the little crêpes, stuffed with ground pork. She spooned a creamy sauce over them, then served herself.

“You should give up painting for cooking,” he said.

They ate slowly, then Sarah brought out cannoli for dessert. When they had finished their dinner and the wine, she drew him from the table and led him through the apartment and upstairs. “I must show you the guest room,” she purred. She opened a door and led him into an elaborately decorated bedroom, then stopped and put her arms around his neck. “Now,” she said. “Another dessert.” She kissed him.

Stone thought he had never felt so good. The dinner had been perfection, and now, as he felt her breasts against him, felt her tongue in his mouth, he…

A loud buzzing noise interrupted them.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The house phone,” she replied between kisses. “Ignore it.”

“I think you’d better answer it,” Stone said.

“Forget it.”

“Sarah, this could be important.”

“Oh, all right!” she said, breaking away and going to the phone. “Hello? Yes, Dan? No, I can’t right now. No, it’s impossible.”

“What is it?” Stone asked.

She covered the receiver. “It’s the desk man downstairs; he wants me to come down there and talk to the police.”

“Tell him you’ll be right down,” Stone said.

“Are you mad?”

“Please, tell him you’ll be right down.”

“I’ll be right down,” she said, then hung up the phone. “What on earth is going on?” she asked. “Why would the police want to see me?”

“You stay here; I’m going downstairs,” Stone said.

“When will you be back?” she asked plaintively.

“As soon as I possibly can. In the meantime, don’t open the door to anyone except me, and I mean
anyone
.”

“Stone, you’re beginning to frighten me.”

“Don’t worry, everything will be all right. I’ll be right back.” He ran down the stairs, let himself out of the apartment and into the foyer, then rang for the elevator. He looked up at the lights, expecting to see it move. It remained on the ground floor. He rang again, but the car did not move. He tried a door to his left, found a staircase, and started down.

As he ran quickly down the stairs he removed the pistol from his belt, worked the action, and put the safety on. He had started at the sixteenth floor, and it took him some minutes to reach the bottom. Finally at the lobby level, he put an ear to the door and listened. Nothing.

He opened the door an inch and peered into the lobby. It was empty. No one was at the desk across the way, and he could see the elevator car, standing with the door open. He flipped the safety off the pistol and, holding it in front of him with both hands, stepped into the lobby. He looked carefully behind the furniture and found nothing, no one,
then he went to the desk and looked over it.

“Good God!” he said aloud. He flipped up the desktop and opened the half door that gave access to the area behind the desk. The cop and the desk man both lay on the floor, and there was a lot of blood. He checked both for pulses; they were dead.

He stood up and noticed two things for the first time. There was a bullet hole in one of the glass doors, and outside the building and to his right, lights were flashing. He walked outside and saw an unmarked police car standing a few yards up the street, the driver’s door open and a red light on the dashboard flashing. Traffic was moving unhindered down Fifth Avenue.
Where the hell are Kelly and Anderson?
He walked toward the car, passing two civilian cars on the way.

“Mr. Barrington?”

The voice spun him around. The doorman emerged from where he had been crouched between two parked cars. “Mr. Barrington, this is awful.”

“What happened?” Stone demanded.

“I let a man with a parcel to deliver into the lobby. He went to the front desk and, without a word, shot the police officer, then he held the gun to Dan’s head, and I saw Dan pick up the telephone. I ran outside, and then I heard a second shot.”

“Then what happened?”

“About a minute passed, and I heard more shots; then the man I had let in burst out of the building, ran across the street, and vaulted over the wall into the park. A few seconds later, the police officer who was running the elevator came out, looking up and
down the street. I yelled that the man had gone into the park, and the officer went after him. Then I saw the red light start flashing in that car, there, and another man, I suppose a police officer, got out of the car and ran after the other two.”

“Do you know if the man in the car called for help?” Stone asked.

“No, I don’t know.”

Stone went to the police car, found the microphone, and punched the switch. “Dispatch?”

“Dispatch; who’s calling?”

“My name is Barrington, I’m a retired police officer.” He gave the address. “There’s an officer down here, along with a civilian, both dead. Two other officers have pursued the perp into Central Park. Stand by.” He turned to the doorman. “What did the man you let into the building look like?”

“He was small, and he was wearing a parka with the hood up. I didn’t get all that good a look at him.”

Stone turned back to the microphone. “The perpetrator is a white male, small of stature, wearing a parka with the hood up, and is armed and dangerous. One of the two officers in pursuit is wearing an elevator operator’s uniform, and the other is in plain clothes. You want to get major backup into the park between Seventy-second and Seventy-ninth Streets and get a patrol car to the building. Also, find Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti of the Nineteenth Precinct and tell him to get over here fast.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’ll secure the lobby of the building and wait there.”

“Got it; over and out.”

Stone put down the microphone. “Come with me,” he said. “You and I will wait in the lobby for the police to arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” the doorman said.

They went back into the building, and Stone went to the elevator. “I wonder why the killer didn’t take the elevator upstairs,” he said.

The doorman looked into the car. “It’s locked,” he said, “and the police officer must have the key.”

“Is there another key?” Stone asked.

“In the top drawer of the desk,” the doorman said, pointing. He clearly had no wish to go over there.

Stone retrieved the key and put it into his pocket. He could hear sirens approaching from a distance. He picked up the house phone, consulted a list of occupants, and called Sarah’s apartment. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer.

14

S
TONE HUNG UP, CHECKED THE NUMBER,
then dialed again. Still no answer. He looked up to see uniforms piling out of two police cars outside and running toward the front door with weapons drawn. He realized that they probably wouldn’t know him and that to them, he was a civilian with a weapon. He put his pistol down on the desktop, moved away from the desk, dug out his ID, and held it out in front of him with one hand, while holding the other hand in the air. “I’m on the job!” he shouted, because he knew that would stop a nervous cop from shooting him. They stopped running.

“What’s going on here?” a sergeant asked.

“I’m a retired police officer,” Stone said. “That’s my weapon on the desk. There’s an officer and another man on the floor behind the desk, both shot, both dead. This man is the building’s doorman.”

The sergeant lowered his weapon. “Your name’s
Barrington, isn’t it? You were in the Nineteenth with Bacchetti?”

“That’s right.”

The sergeant looked behind the desk. “Jesus Christ!” he said. “Who shot these two men?”

“The doorman here saw the perp run out of the building, across the street, and over the wall into the park. Detectives Anderson and Kelly pursued him. I called it in from Kelly’s car; I asked for backup in the park between Seventy-second and Seventy-ninth. I also asked the dispatcher to find Bacchetti and tell him to come here.”

“So there’s nothing for us to do but wait for the medical examiner?”

“That’s right, except I’d like for two men to come upstairs with me. I was having dinner on the sixteenth floor when this happened, and I asked a young lady to stay there, but she’s not answering the phone.”