Hit List

39

Stone was checked out of the hospital at mid-afternoon and let Dino drive. He got out his iPhone and began checking his e-mail. There were a dozen political campaigns’ funding requests, it being an election year, and he gave another ten thousand dollars to Holly Barker’s PAC. She was an old friend and a lover, and she was running for president, having resigned the office of secretary of state earlier in the year, in order to run.

“Holly’s looking good in the polls,” Dino said.

“Yeah, I’ve been following her progress. I think she’ll be okay, barring some gaffe or accident or new conspiracy theory about her.”

“She’ll sail through,” Dino said. “You’re the only mistake she’s ever made.”

“You look kind of funny. Are you going to pass out again?”

“No, the wound is to my heart,” Stone replied.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Someplace restful.” As he spoke his phone chimed, signaling a new e-mail. He didn’t read it right away. “Any ideas?”

“How about New York City?”

“How about tomorrow morning,” Stone suggested.

“All right.”

Stone read the e-mail.

Her address was at the bottom; it was on Acequia Madre.

Stone replied:

He sent the e-mail.

“Dino,” he said, “take me to a wine shop.”

“Let me guess: the plastic surgeon?”

“She wants to change my bandage.”

“Yeah, and your underwear, as well, I bet.”

“Right. I need to go back to the Eagles’ and change. You can take Ed and Susannah to dinner.”

Dino pulled into a parking spot outside a liquor store. “There you go.”

Stone went in and bought two bottles of Far Niente, a cabernet and a chardonnay, and a bottle of Knob Creek. Then he went back to the Eagles’, changed clothes, and left them a note:

Then he took the rented Suburban and drove to Acequia Madre. Jenna Post’s house was two doors downhill from Sig Larkin’s. He parked in her drive, gathered up the booze, and rang her bell.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Stone Barrington. You’ll recognize me by my bandage.”

She buzzed him in, and met him in the front hall. “Ah, yes, that’s the correct bandage,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen.

Stone set his shopping bag on the kitchen island. “I didn’t know if you’d want white or red, so I brought both.”

“Oh, good. A drink, in the meantime?”

Stone removed the bottle of Knob Creek from the bag and opened it for her. She poured them each a drink.

“Good. Now that you’re anesthetized, let me have a look at your wound.” She stripped off the bandage, then opened a small black bag that rested on the island.

“You keep a medical kit in the kitchen?”

“It’s where most accidents happen,” she said. She swabbed the area with alcohol, applied an antibiotic cream and rebandaged it, then she removed a small bottle and a disposable syringe from the bag. “Okay, drop trou,” she said.

“This is so sudden,” Stone replied, but did as he was told.

She swabbed the area and stabbed him. “More antibiotics,” she said. “Infection makes scars, and we wouldn’t want that.”

“So my ass is safe from infection now?”

“From infection, but nothing else.”

Stone hoisted trou and zipped up.

“This is very good whiskey,” she said, sipping her bourbon. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“They didn’t tell you about good bourbon in medical school?”

“No, we drank only stolen medical alcohol, since it was free.”

“This is better, because it’s aged in barrels for nine years.”

“That would explain it.”

“That and the corn. By law, bourbon has to be fifty-one percent corn whiskey.”

“Live and learn. Now, tell me why I locked all the windows and doors.”

“Because you have a neighbor who’s wanted for multiple murders, and he has a habit of breaking and entering.”

“Should I move out?”

“No, the police have searched, or are searching, all your neighbors’ houses. And I’m here and armed.”

“Well, it must be under your jacket. I’ve already checked out what’s under your trousers.” She slipped him out of his jacket. “I’d rather you were unarmed,” she said, “but not entirely.”

She kissed him. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw your ass,” she said.

“You don’t need an excuse,” Stone said, kissing her back.

She stopped. “First, I have to cook.” She set about making dinner.