Family Jewels

52

Stone was waiting for Tiffany Baldwin to arrive when Joan buzzed him. “Somebody named Daryl Barnes is on line one. He says you know him.”

“I don’t.”

“Want me to get rid of him?”

Stone had a thought. “No, and call in that number Dino gave us and ask for a trace.” He waited for a slow count of ten, then pressed the button. “Mr. Barnes? This is Stone Barrington.”

“Hello, Stone.”

“Have we met?”

“Several times, most recently at the Lowell.”

“Ah, are we using real names now?”

“It’s what my mama put on my birth certificate,” he said, and with a Southern accent.

“And is that a real accent?”

“It’s the way I used to talk, before I was led astray by Yankees.”

“How about... what’s your wife’s name?”

“Annie Allen, though we haven’t had the benefit of clergy. Yes, she’s a Southerner. We’re both from a little town called Delano, Georgia.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Stone said. “Meriwether County, isn’t it?”

“I’m impressed. I wouldn’t have thought your geography lessons in school would have covered Meriwether County.”

“It’s a pretty name, it stuck in my mind, I guess.” Stone looked at his watch; at least a minute gone.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called.”

“Actually, Commissioner Bacchetti predicted you would.”

“Did he? The man’s clairvoyant!”

“Just very smart.”

“Why did he think I would call?”

“Because you’re cocky.”

That got a laugh. “Well, he’s nailed me, I guess.”

“If he hasn’t, he will. It’s what he does.”

“I must say, I was flattered that the commissioner of police came personally to arrest me.”

“He lives down the block from the Lowell — I guess he wanted his neighborhood’s air freshened.”

“Now, let’s not get nasty. I called because I want to hire you.”

“For what purpose?”

“To defend me against the charge the commissioner came to arrest me for, whatever it is.”

“I’m afraid I have a conflict of interest,” Stone said.

“What conflict?”

“I represent the estate of the victim.”

“What estate? What victim?”

“Come now, Mr. Barnes, disingenuousness doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m afraid you’ve baffled me.”

“The murder of Carrie Fiske.”

“Wait a minute — Carrie is dead?”

Stone checked his watch again: two minutes.

“Tell you what, I’ll hear your alibi and give you some advice, no charge.”

“When and where was she killed? I’ll give you my alibi.”

“Later in the evening, after your dinner date with her.”

“Last time I had dinner with Carrie, you were there, in East Hampton.”

“Then how is it that the police have a voice message on her phone from you, confirming dinner?”

“Dinner where?”

“In New Mexico. Nicky Chalmers puts you there, too.”

“We left New Mexico an hour after I saw Nicky.”

“Oh, and here’s the kicker — the police have a photograph of you at the scene of her death, and it’s date-stamped.”

There was silence at the other end.

“Remember the camera and tripod you knocked over? It went off, and got a very nice likeness.”

“I think I’d better be going,” he said.

“But you haven’t had my free advice.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“Give yourself up, tell the police everything, and I’ll recommend a good lawyer to represent you. With a little luck, he might get the charge reduced to manslaughter.”

“Thanks, I don’t think so.”

“You could be out in ten years, or so.”

“Oh, swell.”

“It beats life in the New Mexico State Prison, which is not the sort of elegant hostelry you’re accustomed to.”

Another silence, then... “Who’s the lawyer?”

“Ed Eagle, of Santa Fe. He’s in the phone book. There is none better west of the Mississippi — maybe not east of, either.”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“What other charges against you are current? Is there a line of prosecutors waiting?”

“I have never been charged with any crime,” he said.

“Then how did you come to the attention of the Palm Beach police?”

“That was a misunderstanding, quickly cleared up.”

“What sort of misunderstanding?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t. But Carrie Fiske matters, I can promise you that.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Barrington.” He hung up.

Stone buzzed Joan. “Tell Dino, if that wasn’t long enough for him to trace, he’s fired.”