Fresh Disasters

39

Stone sat in his living room with Joan and Dino.

“I hope it’s a bomb,” Dino said.

“Are you nuts?” Stone inquired. “It’s sitting on my desk.”

“If it’s a bomb, then I can charge Daltry with something that’ll keep him in jail while he’s awaiting trial.”

“That office is where I earn my living,” Stone said.

“You earn your living in your head. Wouldn’t it be worth a little redecorating to get that guy off the street?”

“It might,” Stone said.

There were heavy footsteps on the stairs and a man wearing a lot of protective gear stood in the doorway. “Okay,” he said, “you can come downstairs now.”

The three followed him back to Stone’s office, where the box still rested on his desk. Next to it was a bronze head.

“There was no bomb,” the officer said. “It’s just a sculpture thing.”

Stone walked over and picked up the head. “It’s Celia,” he said.

“Looks like the head was sawed off a statue,” Dino pointed out. “What do you think the symbolism is here?”

Stone nodded. “It’s a threat,” he said, “pure and simple.”

“You better call Celia,” Dino said.

Stone sat down at his desk and found Celia’s number in New Jersey. She answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Stone.”

“Oh, hi. I’m glad you called; I’m bored out of my skull out here.”

“Is everything all right?”

“So far, so good.”

“Celia, is there any way Daltry could make some connection with the friend you’re staying with?”

“I don’t think so; they’ve never met.”

“Have you ever mentioned her name to him?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Possibly, but there’s no reason for him to remember it, and he doesn’t know where she lives.”

“Is she in the phone book?”

“No, she has an unlisted number.”

“You’re sure there’s no other way he could trace you there?”

“No, there isn’t. What’s going on, Stone?”

“Did Daltry ever sculpt you?”

“Yes, he did a full-sized nude last year. It’s a very good likeness of me, if I do say so.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Only the head.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Daltry had the head delivered to me. I perceive that as a threat.”

“You mean he cut the head off the statue?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“Holy shit. He told me he expected to get half a million for the thing, from the right buyer.”

“Celia, I want you to think about this some more. Think about every mention of your friend you might have made to Daltry or anyone he knows. If you think of some way he might trace you to her house, then I want you to get out of there and check into a hotel, and be sure you aren’t followed.”

“All right, I’ll think about it, but I don’t think he could find me.”

“Call me on my cell, if you decide to move, so I’ll know where you are.”

“I miss you.”

“Just take care of yourself.” He said good-bye and hung up.

“Is she getting out?”

Stone shook his head. “She says there’s no way he could find her.”

“I hope she’s right,” Dino said.

Later, when he was ready to leave the house for dinner, Stone called Eliza. “Is there a garage near you?” he asked.

“Right next door,” she said.

“Okay, I may be a few minutes late, but I’ll be there.”

“Just as well; I got a late start on the sauce.”

“See you soon.” He hung up and went to the front windows, checking up and down the block for any sight of Devin Daltry or his two ex-cops. Nothing. He went down to the garage and backed quickly out into the street, made the light at Third Avenue and started a series of turns, making his way gradually uptown, checking his mirrors constantly for any sign of a following car. When he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he parked in the garage next door to Eliza’s building and, after checking the block once again, rang her bell and took the elevator upstairs.

She met him at the door, still wearing her scrubs, and a delicious smell wafted through the apartment. “What was that about a garage? Did you drive up here?”

“Yes. Didn’t you have time to change after work?”

“I’m only wearing the top half of the scrubs; makes a great apron. There’s something a little more alluring underneath.”

“I can’t wait to see it. Something smells great, besides you.”

“That’s dinner. Why did you drive instead of taking a cab?”

“I wanted to be sure I wasn’t followed.”

“Don’t worry; I don’t have an angry ex-boyfriend.”

“Why do you mention that?”

“What I meant was, nobody will be following you because you’re seeing me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, because I have a client who has an angry ex-boyfriend, and that’s who I thought might be following me.”

“I’ve never understood this stalker thing,” she said, “though it seems to be common enough.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Come into the kitchen, and I’ll get you a drink.”

He followed her through a handsomely furnished apartment to a surprisingly large kitchen, where several pots were bubbling away on a big stove. She seated him at a counter and handed him a bottle of Knob Creek to open. “From what I’ve seen, you don’t drink anything else. I can’t seem to get it open.”

Stone set down the two bottles of the Masi Amarone, then pulled the string that cut the wax seal and opened the bourbon bottle. “One for you, too?”

“I’ve already made myself a martini,” she said, pouring one from a silver shaker into a frosted glass.

They touched glasses and sipped.

“I’m impressed that you’d tackle such a big meal after a hard day at the hospital.”

“I had the day off,” she said. “I work twelve-hour shifts four days a week.”

“That’s still a forty-eight-hour week.”

“Don’t worry, I get paid for it.”

“How long have you worked the ER?” he asked.

“Always. My specialty is emergency medicine. I’m deputy head of emergency services now.”

“You must like the work.”

“I love it. It’s different every day, and I like its decisiveness. You either save a patient or lose him; it all happens fast. I don’t have to watch patients die a lingering death, and we save most of them.”

“I see your point.”

“We’ll be ready to eat in just a few minutes,” she said. She busied herself with setting a table on the other side of the kitchen, while Stone opened the first bottle of wine and tasted it.

“You approve?”

“I certainly do,” he said, offering her a sip.

“Mmmmmm. Big wine!”

“I like wines you can’t see through.” Stone’s cell phone vibrated on his belt. He let it go to voice mail.

She untied a string and slipped out of the scrubs, revealing a red dress with considerable cleavage.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, taking her by the waist and kissing her lightly. The cell phone vibrated again.

“Answer that,” she said. “I can’t stand an unanswered phone.”

Stone flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“Is this Stone Barrington?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“Did you once work homicide at the one-nine with Dino Bacchetti?”

“Yes, I did.”

“This is Charley Sample. I worked robbery out of the one-nine for two years.”

“I remember you, Charley. What’s up?”

“I run the detective squad out in Morristown, New Jersey, now, been out here for six years. We got a situation here.”

“Tell me.” Stone had a very bad feeling.