New York Dead

Chapter 40

They sat at a table in the little room in back of the bar at Clarke’s. The mirror behind the bar had been replaced; everybody seemed to want to forget the incident, and Dino was obviously welcome.

“You’re looking better,” Dino said. “You put the girl behind you for good?”

“What else can I do?”

“We’ve all been there, Stone, believe me. Thank God that’s all over for me.”

“I’d like to think so, Dino.”

“Believe me, it’s over. When you marry a Sicilian, it’s for life, and that can be short if you fool around.”

“How are things at the office?”

“Looks like we got two serial killers on our hands.”

“The taxi killings, I guess.”

“That’s one of them. It’s the most trouble, too, because every time another cabbie gets greased, the rest of them go bananas and block a major artery for the day.”

“I read about it. Any suspects?”

“Negative.”

“What’s the other case?”

“That one’s even weirder. We got two men and two women in the past seven weeks who just went poof. Right off the street.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere. All over Manhattan.”

“No bodies?”

“No nothing.”

“What do they have in common?”

“Fuckall. The women were twenty-six and thirty-two; the men were thirty-seven and thirty-nine. The guys were a stockbroker and a Porsche salesman; the women were an advertising art director and a VP at a cosmetics company.”

“No ransom notes?”

“Nope. They only got one thing in common I can see.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re good looking, all of them. Good dressers, real prime-time yuppies.”

“Where were they last seen?”

“Leaving work; restaurant; leaving exercise class; jogging in Battery Park.”

Stone shrugged. “Good luck, Dino.”

“I’m going to need it. What’re you working on at the law firm?”

“A fairly juicy one. A client – chairman of an electronics firm – is accused of beating up a high-class hooker in the Waldorf Towers. Looks like it’ll go to trial, and I’ll assist in the defense.”

“They’re not giving you nothing to try yourself, huh?”

“Not yet. I think they expect me to come up with my own. Any ideas?”

“I’ll keep it in mind, tell a couple of the guys. You never know.”

Stone took the letter, in a plastic envelope, from his pocket. “I’ve got something to show you.” He handed it over.

Dino read it and stopped chewing his salad. Then he started again and swallowed. “So? Who’s ‘S’?”

Stone stared at him, unbelieving. “Come on, Dino, you read her diary; don’t you recognize the handwriting?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Dino said, concentrating on the salad. “I never had much memory for handwriting.”

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Expect what? You expect me to recommend reopening the investigation based on this?” He tossed the letter back across the table.

“I didn’t expect you to stonewall me.”

“I ain’t stonewalling you, Stone. You come up with something substantial, and I’ll go with you on it.”

“Substantial? A letter from a dead woman isn’t substantial?”

“Where was it mailed?”

“Penn Station.”

“Any prints? I know you checked.”

Stone held the plastic holder at an angle and pointed. “Three. Will you run them against what we found in her apartment?”

Dino looked skeptical, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll do that. It may take a few days; the records have probably left the precinct.”

“As soon as you can. And will you have the handwriting analyzed?”

“Against what?”

“The diary, the other stuff in evidence.”

“The case has been cleared. I expect all that stuff has gone back to her estate, to her family, by now.”

“Dino, if I can get a good analysis done, and the prints turn out to be hers, will that be enough for you to reopen?”

“Tell you the truth, I don’t know. I’d have to go to Delgado; he’d have to go to Waldron; he might even have to go to the mayor. The thing is, even if an analyst says it’s her handwriting, even if the prints are hers, what have we got to go on? We can’t trace the letter. It looks like pretty ordinary stationery to me; it was mailed in the biggest post office in the city. What could we do?”

“We’d know she’s alive.” He pushed the letter back across the table. “That’s a start.”

Dino laughed and shook his head. “You still got a hair up your ass about that, ain’t you? All that crap about cats bouncing off concrete and walking away. You know, if I had come to you with that kind of a theory, you’d have kicked my ass.”

Stone laughed. “I don’t know, Dino, I think I’d have given your idea a hearing.”

“I gave your idea a hearing,” Dino said.

“For about fifteen seconds.”

“That was all I needed.”

“Okay, okay, but will you have the lab look at the paper and anything else they can find?”

“All right, but I’ll have to get somebody to do it on his own time. If word got around about this, I’d be pounding a beat, pronto.”

“Thanks, Dino.”

“I’ll owe somebody a favor, too.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

They paused outside the restaurant.

“One forty-five, Sunday, at the church?” Dino said. “You got the address?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Tuxedo. I’ll pick up the rental.”

“I own one.”

“We’re coming up in the world, aren’t we?”

“I’ve actually used it a couple of times. A firm party, that sort of thing.”

“I’ll see if I can have something for you on the letter by then. Otherwise, it’ll have to wait till after the honeymoon.”

“Where you going?”

“Vegas – where else?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“You ever been to an Italian wedding?”

“No.”

“You got an experience coming.”

Dino turned out to be right.