Black Dog

Eleven

Fred found an actual, legal parking spot a couple of doors from the Charles mansion. Also parked out front were two police cars: a cruiser with its lights flashing and an unmarked sedan with a police shield on the sun visor. Stone walked up the front steps, reached into his pocket, and withdrew the wallet that contained his police shield, getting it ready to display.

A cop stood at the door, ready to stop anyone who tried to enter. Stone showed him the badge. “I want to talk to the detective in charge.”

The cop peered at the badge. “That’s a retirement badge.”

“You’re very observant,” Stone said. “I’ll mention it to the commissioner when he gets here.”

“The commissioner is coming to a murder scene?”

“I’d like to speak to the detective in charge,” Stone repeated, brushing past the officer and ducking under the police tape.

“Everybody’s on the eighth floor,” the cop called after him.

Stone waved his thanks without looking back. Then he got into the elevator and pressed eight. The doors opened, and he had to duck under more tape. There were a couple of uniforms and a couple of suits in the room. The younger suit walked over to him and blocked his path. “This is a crime scene, pal. Let’s see some ID.”

Stone pointed at the badge on his lapel. “Will that do you?”

“What’s your business here?”

Stone looked him up and down, not uncritically. “I’d like to speak to the detective in charge,” he said.

The young detective took a breath, but the older cop, who was sitting on a sofa, interrupted. “Mr. Barrington, I presume.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Dan Casey. What can I do for you?” He waved Stone to a seat.

Stone sat down on the sofa. “I thought I might be of help to you.”

“How?”

“Well, I might be the last person to have seen her alive. Except for her killer.”

“Ah, well, then tell me all about it.”

“Mrs. Charles called my office when I was out and spoke to my secretary, who gave me the message.”

“What was the message?”

“Mrs. Charles wanted to see me at her home.”

“When?”

“Pronto. Mrs. Charles didn’t make appointments. She was accustomed to people doing her bidding; she didn’t do theirs. I came right over.”

“What time did you arrive?”

“A little after three o’clock, I believe.”

“And what was the subject of the meeting?”

“I represent Mrs. Charles and the trust that pays her stepson, Edwin Jr., an income.”

“And what did you discuss?”

“Come on, Dan, you know all about attorney-client privilege. You know I can’t discuss the content of our discussion. Suffice it to say that we discussed matters of a legal nature.”

“How long did you discuss them?”

“Perhaps fifteen minutes.”

“That’s a pretty short discussion of legal matters. Did you fuck her?”

“I did not. That would have been a violation of the code of ethics of the New York State Bar Association.”

“Did you fuck her anyway?”

“Asked and answered.”

“Stop dodging my questions.”

“Stop wasting my time,” Stone said.

“Are you carrying a gun?”

“Not today, but I sometimes do. I’m licensed for concealed carry.”

“What is the caliber of your gun?”

“I own several: .45, 9mm, 40, and .380.”

“Why so many?”

“I like the right tool for the work at hand. What was she shot with?”

“A .38.”

“I haven’t owned or carried one since I got out of the academy and sold it to a fellow student.”

“Who might that have been?”

“It was a fellow called Dino Bacchetti.”

“How convenient.”

“It might have been convenient when the sale occurred, twenty years ago.”

“Do you expect me to believe that story?”

“I don’t give a damn whether you believe it or not. Do you have any more questions? If not, I’ll get out of your way.”

“What time did you leave?”

“The police academy?”

“This house. Today.”

“About three-twenty-five.”

“Anybody see you go?”

“No. I saw a butler and a maid when I arrived, but they weren’t around when I left. I took the elevator down and walked out the front door. My driver can confirm what time I got into the car.”

“How did you know about the shooting?”

“The butler called me about three-forty. He was shaky.”

“Why you?”

“You’ll have to ask him. I told him to call 911, and he said he would.”

“He did. Do you represent Mrs. Charles’s estate?”

“Her will names me as her executor, so yes. I represent her husband’s estate, too.”

“So your firm won’t lose the business?”

“Not if it keeps her executor and her heir happy.”

“I assume the heir is her son.”

“Stepson, and you can assume what you like, but I can’t comment on that right now.”

“That account must represent a nice piece of change for Woodman & Weld.”

“We’ve only been representing her for a few days, but I expect that would be true, eventually.”

“I’m told that she was paying her former lawyers better than a million a year.”

“I’ve heard that rumor, too. You’ll have to confirm it with her former lawyers.”

Stone heard the elevator doors open and heels clicking on the parquet floor. He turned to see Dino looking around. “Where’s the body?” he asked.

“Behind the other sofa, Commissioner,” Casey said. “Two in the back of the head. I’m guessing a .38. The ME should be here soon. He can confirm.”

“Or not,” Dino said. “Is Barrington being a pain in the ass?”

“No more than most lawyers. He did say he wasn’t fucking her.”

“No,” Stone said. “You asked me if I fucked her today, and I said no.”

“Ah!”

“But if it’s any help to you, I’ve never fucked her.”

“How long were you alone with her today?” Dino asked.

“About fifteen minutes.”

“That’s long enough.”

Casey laughed, and Stone rolled his eyes.

“I was just leaving,” Stone said, rising. “Any other questions, call my lawyer.”

“Who’s your lawyer?” Casey asked.

“I am.” Stone pressed the button for the elevator, and it opened immediately. He gave Dino and Casey a little wave, pressed a button, and vanished.