Black Dog

Forty-Four

They left the restaurant together.

“Thank you,” she said, “perhaps another time?”

“Another time, what?”

“I’ll have a drink at your place.”

“You anticipate me.”

“It saves time.”

“May I drop you at your place?”

“Assuming you can get a cab. It’s starting to rain, and they don’t like getting wet.”

Stone lifted a hand, and a taxi screeched to a halt.

“Well done,” she said, climbing in. Stone followed her into the cab. She gave the driver her address, and he drove on.

“Your address is in Turtle Bay?”

“Clever of you to figure it out.”

“My house has a view of the rear of your house, across the garden,” he said, “so don’t bother lowering your blinds.” He told her the number.

“What a coincidence,” she said.

“Do I detect a note of disbelief?”

“Just a tiny one.”

“Let’s see, your predecessor in the house worked for a bank, and she was murdered.”

She turned and looked at him.

“There’s that disbelief again,” he said.

“You read the papers, don’t you?”

“I do, but as it happens, I was a witness to her murder.”

“You were in the house?”

“No, a friend of mine and I were having a drink and waiting for her to start vacuuming her place, when a man walked up behind her and stabbed her with a knife.”

“Wait a minute. You said you were waiting for her to start vacuuming?”

“She did that every day at about the same time, and she preferred doing it naked. She was very beautiful, so we sometimes watched. She seemed to enjoy that.”

“What did you do after the part about the man with the knife?”

“My friend called it in, and we ran over there as fast as we could. But when we arrived, the killer had fled. There was nothing we could do for her. Except catch her killer, which we eventually did.”

“Well, Stone,” she said, “you certainly have a vivid imagination.”

“Which part of my recitation of the facts do you attribute to my imagination?”

“You said you ‘called it in.’ How?”

“Well, we didn’t want to get put on hold, so my friend, Dino, called the police directly.”

“Does he have some sort of personal influence with the NYPD?”

“You might say that. He’s the police commissioner of New York City.”

“Did you imagine that, too?”

“Tell you what. When you get home, turn on your computer and google the NYPD, and see if the commissioner’s name isn’t Dino Bacchetti.”

“What will happen if I google you?”

“I’ve no idea. I’ve never googled myself.”

“That shows a refreshing lack of self-involvement.”

“You’ve seen my badge,” Stone said. “Here’s my business card. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Not on this occasion,” she said, handing him her own card. “But we can discuss that another time, if you’d like to call me.”

“What are your office hours?”

“Nine to five, unless there’s a major flap on.”

Stone tucked away the card. “All right, but you must promise, after you’ve researched me as thoroughly as you like, to always believe everything I say. Nobody likes to be called a liar.”

“We’ll see,” she said. The cab came to a halt at her house.

“In that case, I won’t call you,” Stone said. “You can call me, if you like. Good evening.”

“Would you like to take the shortcut from my back door across the gardens?”

“Thank you, yes.” He got out of the cab and followed her to her door, where she stood aside and pointed.

“That way,” she said.

“Thank you. And again, good evening.” He departed through the back door, walked across the gardens, and let himself into his kitchen. Before he closed the door, he gave her a little wave, and she waved back.

Stone undressed and got into bed. As he did, the phone rang. “Stone Barrington,” he said.

“Is this the Stone Barrington with the vivid imagination?” she asked.

“No, this is Stone Barrington, the honest man. What can I do for you?”

“Please accept my apology and call me as soon as you like.”

“As you wish. Bonne nuit.” He hung up and switched on the TV.