Distant Thunder

6

Stone said good night to the Bacchettis at the rear side door, where Dino’s car awaited, then he continued through the bar, where he was surprised to see John Collins’s widow, Vanessa Morgan, paying her dinner check at the bar.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Oh, good evening. I didn’t see you earlier,” she said. She signed her credit card receipt.

“I was having dinner with some friends in the back dining room,” he replied. “Tell me, have you been a widow long enough for me to invite you to have a drink at my house?”

“Of course,” she said. “Seeing other people’s homes is my business.” They walked out the front door, where Fred got her into the Bentley and Stone followed. “Why is that your business?” Stone asked.

“Because next week a magazine about interior design debuts, and I am its editor. Its name is Indoors and Out. I’ve worked in the fashion business for years, and this is a fashion magazine about décor. All the houses and apartments in the first issue are from homes I’ve visited.”

They arrived at the house, and Stone took her in through the front door. She stood in the living room and looked around. “I can get your house into our second issue.”

“Thank you,” Stone replied, “but I’m not ready to invite the public into my home.” He took her into his study and poured them both a cognac, while she settled into the sofa.

“This is such a perfect room for a bachelor,” she said.

“Widower.” He told her about his marriage to Arrington Calder and her death.

“My condolences,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“It’s odd that our respective spouses died the same way.”

“Sort of,” Stone said. “My wife was killed by a former lover. Was there someone like that in John’s past who might be the culprit?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Our marriage and his work were such that his time away from me was a blank slate.”

“Have you ever met Lance Cabot?”

“Cabot was the surname that John mentioned as his superior. Could that be Lance?”

“Very possibly. He is the director of the Agency, and he very much resembles the description of the man who visited you and left John’s insurance and pension papers.”

“Would the director of the Agency personally deliver paperwork?”

“He might, to an Agency widow.”

“How odd.”

“Perhaps not. Lance defines his job to suit himself, or maybe he just happened to be in your neighborhood and wanted to save a stamp.”

“It sounds as if you know him well.”

“As well as can be expected,” Stone said. “As I mentioned to you, I’m a part-time consultant to the Agency, so I’ve dealt with him a number of times.”

“Do you think the Agency is somehow involved with John’s death?”

“Since he was an Agency officer, I’d be surprised if they weren’t involved somehow. He may have been on a mission for them when he met his end. I have no way of knowing that, of course.”

“Of course,” she said. “I have experienced conversations ending when the Agency was mentioned.”

“Secrecy is their most important tool,” Stone said. “And now, having mentioned the organization, we should end this part of our conversation.”

She laughed.

“One last thing: Do you know about the wall of stars?”

“What’s that?”

“When an officer dies in the line of duty, a star is placed on a wall near the entrance of the headquarters building at Langley: no name, just a star.”

“A package was delivered to me at the office today,” Vanessa said. “It contained three medals. No note.”

“When an officer is decorated for exceptional duty, his medals are retained until his death. Apparently John excelled on at least three occasions.”

“No further details?”

“No.”

“No point in asking?”

“No.”

“That’s very unsatisfying.”

“A lot about the Agency is unsatisfying to those who are not on the inside.”

“Well,” she said, draining her glass. “I have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll have Fred drive you home,” Stone said. He walked her to the car, and before she got inside, she planted a soft and inviting kiss on his lips. “Next time, let’s start earlier and finish later.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” Stone said. He closed the car door and Fred drove her away.

Stone went upstairs and pressed the button on the security system that closed and locked down the house. As he got into bed, the phone rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Lance. Did you enjoy your evening? The latter part, I mean.”

“I should tell you it’s none of your business,” Stone said, “but it wouldn’t do any good.”

Lance laughed and hung up.