Dirt

Chapter 47

Amanda dialed Stone’s number and waited, tapping her perfect nails on the desktop while the secretary put her through. She had been standing at Martha’s graveside the day before when her thoughts about the DIRT business had begun to fall into place, and she had begun to fully realize how dangerous her position was. Amanda had always made a habit of turning danger into opportunity, but first she had to know exactly where she stood, which meant knowing exactly where Stone stood.

“Hello, Amanda; I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Not to worry, darling. Look, I’d like to know exactly where you are in this investigation. Can you bring me up to date, and as concisely as possible?”

“Of course. Most of this you already know, of course, but I think we’ve identified the person or, perhaps, persons who are publishing the newsletter. One of them calls himself Jonathan Dryer and the other, Geoffrey Power or G. Gable. They appear to be working together. Dryer has abandoned his apartment, and we haven’t been able to locate him yet. Last night we got a look at him at a benefit at the Shubert Theatre, but he managed to elude us.”

“Who’s us?”

“Dino Bacchetti, my old detective partner.”

“Are the police involved in this?” she asked, alarmed.

“No, this was completely unofficial. We think Dryer has been pulling off burglaries to support himself, and a gun that was stolen from one of the apartments may have been used to kill a retired cop, but we can’t prove anything yet.”

“I see,” she said, relieved. “And where do you intend to go from here?”

“I intend to find Dryer,” Stone replied. “He’s the key to this whole thing.”

“And that’s it? That’s everything?”

“That’s everything.”

“Thank you, darling; see you soon.” She hung up and dialed Richard Hickock’s private office number.

“Hello?”

“Dick, it’s Amanda. Break your lunch date today; we have to meet.”

“Is this really important?”

“I think you could call it vital. Twelve-thirty at Twenty-One?”

“See you then.”

When they had settled into a banquette in the inner horseshoe of the bar at “ 21,” and after Hickock had ordered his steak and baked potato and Amanda her grilled salmon, no butter, and after Hickock had been served a double vodka martini and Amanda her San Pellegrino, she got down to business.

“Dick, darling,” Amanda said, “I’m afraid that, through no fault of your own, you have been placed in a very dangerous position.” She did not mention the danger to herself.

“Oh?” he said, not particularly alarmed, “How so?”

She gave him a brief rundown on what Stone Barrington had learned about the DIRT business.

“Well, at least he’s making progress,” Hickock said, taking a sip of his huge martini.

“Dick, my dearest, he may be making too much progress.”

Hickock frowned. “Too much progress?”

“Yes. You see, while Stone has been conducting his investigation, I have been conducting one of my own, and, as is my wont, I have been looking into more than who is doing this; I have been learning why.”

“And just why have this Dryer and Power, or whatever their names are, been doing this?”

“It seems, my darling, that they harbor some grudge against you.”

“Me? You mean only me?”

Amanda nodded gravely. “Apparently they’ve gone after me only because of my connection with you.”

“What did I ever do to these guys? I don’t even know who they are.”

“Who knows? What’s important is, they seem to know a very great deal about you and your business affairs.”

Hickock put down his martini. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Amanda?”

“It means, Dick, that they seem to have unearthed information about your connection with an entity called Window Seat.”

All expression left Hickock’s face. “That’s impossible,” he said. “I mean, I never heard of anything like that.”

“Dick, my dear, you don’t have to worry about me; I’m on your side.”

“Amanda, how did you find out about this?”

“About what, darling?”

“About Window Seat, goddamnit!”

“Dick, keep your voice down,” she said, looking around them. “You know that I have a great many sources for all sorts of information.”

“Yeah, well, how the hell did you hear about Window Seat? And don’t you think for a moment you can plead the confidentiality of a journalist’s sources. I want to know now.”

“Well, your Glynnis is in possession of this knowledge, and she’s a pretty unhappy woman at the moment, isn’t she?”

“Don’t try that with me, Amanda; Glynnis and I have reconciled our differences, and she would never mention this to anybody.”

Amanda had misjudged Hickock; she was not going to be able to play him quite as she had imagined. Inwardly, she shrugged; well, that little vermin Peebles would just have to be sacrificed. “From Allan Peebles,” she said.

“He told you about Window Seat?” Hickock asked, unbelieving.

“Everything. About the Infiltrator and the porno magazines. The gay porno magazines.”

Hickock blanched. “I’ll have his balls by close of business,” he said.

“Well, now, Dick, that might not be the wisest move; not just yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Well, these two little creeps Dryer and Power are still out there. If you do something so public as sacking Peebles, it’s bound to cause a new round of faxing, reporting the whole business, and I don’t think you want that to happen, do you?”

“I see your point,” Hickock said, returning to his martini. “I’ll have to be more subtle.”

“Oh, Dick, I’m sure you can deal with Allan Peebles at any moment you wish, after this DIRT thing has blown over.”

“Yes, I can certainly do that, but when is this going to blow over?”

“Well, clearly it won’t blow over if we leave Stone Barrington to his devices. Eventually he’ll unearth the whole thing.”

“Yes, I suppose he will,” Hickock agreed.

“I think it might be best if we terminated his investigation and turned to, shall we say, other means.”

Hickock turned and looked her in the eye. “Just what means did you have in mind, Amanda?”

“Consider this, Dick: More than the DIRT business is involved. Dryer, or perhaps Power, or both, may have caused the death of a police officer-a retired one, but nevertheless…”

“Jesus Christ.”

“So far the police are not officially involved in the investigation of these two men, but if Stone – or anyone else, for that matter – should come up with evidence linking the two to the murder, then the whole can of worms – DIRT, Window Seat, everything – will be opened up.”

“Yes, I see that. So Dryer and Power are the immediate problem.”

“Yes. Surely you have connections with people who make a business of solving troublesome problems by more direct means.”

“Such as who?”

“Well, you did have some help in solving your labor problems last year, didn’t you? A consultant, so to speak?”

Hickock looked around him. “I think we’ve talked enough about this, Amanda.”

“Probably.”

“I understand the parameters of the problem now. Will you call off Stone Barrington?”

“Of course, darling, if you think that’s best.”

“I do.”

Amanda looked up. “Oh, here comes your steak, darling.” She watched as the perfectly grilled slab of meat was set down before him. “Why ever haven’t you already had a coronary?” She tested her salmon with a fork.

“I give other people coronaries,” Hickock replied, sawing off a hunk of beef and stuffing it into his mouth.

Amanda tucked into her salmon, secure in the knowledge that, while she had probably solved the DIRT problem, she had also ingratiated herself with Richard Hickock, at the same time letting him know that she knew. That knowledge would certainly be useful at some later date. The salmon was delicious.