Family Jewels

16

Stone stared at the gun barrel: a 45. He wasn’t going to argue with that. “Of course,” he said, opening the door. “Come right in.” Bob ran ahead; Stone dropped the leash, slammed the door behind him, and stepped out of the line of fire. He heard muffled swearing from outside, and there was banging on the door.

Stone called Dino.

“Bacchetti.”

“It’s Stone. Biggers is on my front steps with a .45, banging on my door.”

“Hang on.” Dino went off-line, then came back seconds later. “There’s a car four blocks from you. It’s on the way.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Can you keep him occupied until it arrives?”

“I’ll see.” Stone picked up the intercom next to the door and pressed a button. “Mr. Biggers? Are you there?”

“You son of a bitch, you invited me in!”

“You might recall that I was under duress at the time.”

“Duress? I didn’t threaten you.”

“Mr. Biggers, you pointed a gun at me.”

“Well, I’ve never shot anybody before.”

“Gee, I wish you’d told me, I’d have let you right in.” Stone heard a police siren; sounded like a couple of blocks away. He heard footsteps on the intercom. “Mr. Biggers?” He went back to his cell phone. “Your cops used their siren, scared him off.”

“They wouldn’t have done that — I told them to keep it quiet. It was probably another car answering a different call.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Well, at least he’s carrying. We’ve got a legit beef to take him in.”

“Let me know if that gets done, will you? I’ll have to take Bob out in the morning, and I’d like to know that I won’t get shot while Bob is pooping.”

“Yeah, sure. Go to bed.” Dino hung up, and Stone and Bob went upstairs. Bob seemed to like the elevator.

Stone turned over and flung out an arm, and he was greeted with a grunt. He opened an eye. “Bob? Nobody invited you onto my bed.”

Bob opened an eye, regarded him coolly, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Stone was about to get up and throw Bob at his own bed when the phone rang. He glanced at the bedside clock: 6:05 AM.

He picked up the phone. “What?” he muttered.

“Good morning. It’s Carrie.”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, what’s good about that?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s the time difference. I got it wrong.”

“Where are you?”

“Out of town.”

“It’s important that you stay there, until the coast is clear.”

“Clear of what?”

“Not what, who. Rather, whom?”

“Is it Harvey?”

“He greeted me on my front steps when I came home last night and pointed a gun at me.”

“That thing? It’s never loaded.”

“I didn’t feel I could count on that.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a...”

“Ex-wife?”

“Well...”

“Carrie, twice in the past two years Harvey has been reported with a female corpse in his bed. Does that give you any ideas?”

“Was one of them next door to my East Hampton house?”

“Yes.”

“Where was the other?”

“West Palm.”

“Oh.”

“Carrie, one female corpse in a fellow’s bed can be explained away, maybe — two, not so easy. Unless you want to try for the number three slot, stay out of New York, East Hampton, or any other place that Harvey might think to find you.”

“You’re serious?”

“Carrie, when you came to me because you were afraid of your ex-husband, were you serious?”

“Yes, I suppose I was, but I was upset.”

“And that was before you knew about the two corpses.”

“You have a point.”

“I have more than a point, Carrie, I have a serious concern for your safety, and so should you. The police are looking for Harvey as we speak, and I’ve no doubt they’ll bag him soon.”

“Has Harvey actually done anything?”

“He’s carrying an unlicensed firearm.”

“But he told me he has a license.”

“Not anymore. I arranged for it to be canceled, so the police would have cause to detain him.”

“Weren’t two lady corpses enough?”

“Not until enough evidence has been found to prove he caused their deaths.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Say, a bullet in one of their brains that matches his gun — like that.”

“Was either of them shot?”

“So far, the causes of death are undetermined.”

“So, what other kind of evidence?”

“Forensic evidence.”

“You mean, like on TV?”

“Exactly like that — fibers, hairs, blood, DNA, fingerprints. Also, the old-fashioned kind of evidence — motive, means, and opportunity.”

“How are you and Bob getting along?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“But I’m concerned about Bob.”

“When you’ve convinced me that you’re taking this threat seriously, we can talk about Bob.”

“All right, I’m taking it seriously. I won’t come home until you say I can.”

“Good. Now how can I get ahold of you?”

She gave him a number. “That’s my cell. It works everywhere.”

“That’s good enough.”

“Now, how about you and Bob?”

“We’re both fine.”

“Are you enjoying each other’s company?”

“I can only speak for myself — Bob has been quiet on the subject.”

“Has he bitten you or growled at you?”

“Neither. He’s been a perfect gentleman. I took him out to dinner last night, and he behaved beautifully.”

“Where?”

“Patroon.”

“Isn’t that a steak house?”

“Steaks are on the menu.”

“That was dangerous, Bob likes his beef.”

“He got a large bone and was perfectly content.”

“I’ve got to run, baby. You two take care of each other.”

Before Stone could reply, she had hung up.

Bob edged across the bed and rested his head on Stone’s stomach.

“It was for you,” Stone said. “Your mama is fine.”