Worst Fears Realized

6

STONE JOGGED QUICKLY AROUND THE BLOCK, looking at every person he passed, hoping to see the frizzy-haired perpetrator. Finding the house was easy; two black and whites were double-parked outside, their flashers working. A uniformed cop stood guard at the top of the house’s steps. Stone flashed his retired officer’s ID and was admitted to the house.

He could see by the mailboxes that the original town house had been divided into apartments; the door to the ground-floor unit stood open, and he walked in, breathing hard. Two uniformed patrolmen stood in the entrance hall. “Is Lieutenant Bacchetti upstairs?” Stone asked, flashing his ID.

“Yeah,” one of the men said.

Stone ran up the stairs. He was met by another uniform and by the two detectives he had met at Susan Bean’s, Andy Anderson and Michael Kelly.

“What are you doing here?” Kelly demanded.

Stone ignored him and walked toward the rear of the house. He was on the upper floor of a ground-floor duplex, handsomely decorated. He emerged from a hallway toward the woman’s bedroom. Her body lay on the floor in the doorway, uncovered, her skin dead white, her throat gaping.

Dino looked up. “It’s a lot like the way Susan Bean was done,” he said to Stone. “Right-handed perp, knife drawn from left to right, very deep.”

“Any luck on finding him?” Stone asked. “He didn’t come out the back, and I didn’t see him on the street on the way over here.”

“No,” Dino said, picking up the dead woman’s handbag from a chair and stepping over the body into the hallway, taking care not to step on the blood-soaked part of the pale carpet. “Come in here for a minute,” he said, leading the way down the hall and into a study. The room had bookcases on one side and was hung with good pictures on two other walls. An antique desk faced the second-story windows, looking out onto the street. “Sit down,” Dino said, opening the handbag.

Stone took a seat. “What’s her name?” he asked.

Dino was looking in her wallet. “Miranda Hirsch,” he said, handing Stone her business card. “Executive VP in charge of loan operations at the Manhattan Bank.”

“Big job,” Stone said, looking at the card.

“Did you know her at all?”

“Only what I’ve seen of her through the window,” Stone said.

“While you were playing Peeping Tom, did you ever see a man in the place?”

Stone shook his head. “Not until tonight. After the performance with the vacuum cleaner, she always closed the curtains.”

“Downstairs, too?”

“Yes.”

“How many times did you watch her undress?”

“A dozen, fifteen, I guess.”

“You’re lucky I was with you tonight,” Dino said, “or Kelly and Anderson would be pulling you in, making a case for how you were overcome with passion by her performance.”

“That’s not a bad line to pursue,” Stone said. “They should be canvassing my side of the block; the perp could be living over there, and I’ll bet there were other witnesses.”

“Could be, but nobody called it in. You said something before I left your house; you said you knew the perp?”

“I do, but I’m damned if I can remember where from.”

“Come on, Stone, think.”

“I am thinking,” Stone replied testily. He looked at his feet. “We were together on it, I think.”

“On what?”

“On this guy. We arrested him for something, I’m sure. A long time ago.”

“Well, come on, give me a hint.”

“I just can’t put it together,” Stone said. “Give me a minute, will you?” The two were quiet for a moment.

“Mitteldorfer,” Dino said suddenly.

“What?”

“Mitteldorfer; that was his name. Accountant; killed his wife.”

“Herbert Mitteldorfer!” Stone exclaimed. “How the hell did you remember that?”

“He cut her throat,” Dino said. “That’s how I remembered. How long ago was that?”

“Eleven, twelve years ago,” Stone replied. “There was no death penalty then; he got life.”

“There was no life without parole, either,” Dino said. “He’s been in long enough to get paroled.”

“Where was he sent?”

“I don’t remember. Dannemora, Attica?”

“I don’t remember either. Find out.”

Dino got out his cell phone and started dialing, then stopped. “Stone, are you sure it was Mitteldorfer? I’m damned if I can remember exactly what he looked like.”

“He looked just like the perp, that’s what he looked like.”

Dino resumed dialing. “This is Bacchetti. Dig up a record on a Herbert Mitteldorfer.” He spelled it. “Sent up eleven or twelve years ago for murder. I want to know what joint he was sent to and what his current status is. I’ll hold.” He looked up at Stone. “Two’ll get you ten he was paroled last week.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Stone said.

“You remember much about this guy?” Dino asked.

“Not much. Not very big; tightly wound; borderline psycho, I’d say.”

“But what the hell would he have against you?”

“I arrested him, remember?”

“Yeah, but so did I, and so far, he isn’t out there killing people I know.”

“So far,” Stone said.

Dino’s face fell. “Oh, Jesus,” he said.

Stone muttered something.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘worst fears realized.’”