Dirt

Chapter 60

Stone was lying on Arrington’s living room sofa, a damp washcloth across his forehead, when Dino walked into the room.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

Stone opened his eyes. “Do I really have to get up and talk to you?”

Dino looked around at the carnage. “I think maybe that would be a good idea,” he said. The sound of approaching sirens came, muffled, through the walls.

The last of the bodies was wheeled out of the apartment. Stone and Dino stood in the kitchen. Stone reached into the printer tray and handed Dino the sheet. “I thought you might like to read the final edition of DIRT,” he said.

Dino read the document twice, then Stone handed him a Federal Express packet. “This is addressed to your department,” he said, “so I didn’t open it, but I expect it contains some backup for the charges in the scandal sheet.”

Dino opened the packet and leafed through a dozen sheets. “Well,” he said, “Mr. Richard Hickock has been a bad boy, but there’s nothing in here for me. Federal income tax evasion isn’t against the laws of New York State. I’ll forward it to the FBI. Eventually it’ll find its way to the proper law enforcement agency, I’m sure.”

“Hickock could grow old while that happens,” Stone said.

“Oh, they’ll get around to it.”

“You think you’ll be able to get anything out of the wiseguy I wounded?”

“Who knows? We’ll see what’s on his yellow sheet, see what we have to bargain with. Maybe he’ll hand me somebody.”

“My bet is that a bullet from the nickel-plated twenty-five with the silencer killed Arnie Millman.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ll see.”

They made ready to leave. “Arrington!” Stone called out.

“Coming,” she called back from the bedroom.

“How’s the new apartment?” Stone asked.

“We’re moving in in a couple of weeks,” Dino replied. “Mary Ann is going nuts, buying stuff. Did you know Ralph Lauren makes wallpaper? I didn’t.”

Arrington appeared with a suitcase, walked over to Stone, set down the case, and leaned against him. “I don’t want to live here anymore,” she said.

“You don’t,” he replied.

They made their way slowly downtown in a taxi.

“Pull over here for a minute, will you, driver?” Stone said. The cab pulled over to the curb. Stone reached into Arrington’s bag, retrieved the two packets, got out of the car, and dropped them into a Federal Express bin.

“What was that?” Arrington asked when he was back in the cab.

“Oh, just jump-starting the wheels of justice,” he replied.

“So it’s over?” Arrington asked.

“It is,” Stone said.

“No loose ends?”

“Well, yes. There’s the murder of Martha McMahon, Amanda’s secretary.”

“Murder? You think Amanda pushed her?

“That’s my best guess, but nobody will ever be able to prove it. Amanda will get away with it.”

She took her hand in his. “Stone, my darling,” she said, “if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that nobody gets away with anything. Ever.”

He turned and kissed her lightly. “I hope you’re right,” he said.