Stuart Woods 6 Stone Barrington Novels (136 page)

Dino reached into the front seat and picked up a handheld radio. “Remind me what's at Madison and Seventy-third,” he said to Stone.

“A lot of very expensive shops,” Stone replied.

“Listen up,” Dino said into the radio to the four detectives in the car behind him. “Get out at Sixty-fifth and Madison and work your way north, shop by shop. I'll be working south from Seventy-sixth Street. We're looking for a good-looking white woman, probably alone, thirty to forty, five-six or -seven, a hundred and thirty pounds, wearing a black cocktail dress and black gloves. She may be wearing a coat, too. It's nearly ten, and nothing's open this time of night, but we had her standing still at Seventy-third and Madison for a couple of minutes, so she may be window-shopping. Detain and identify anybody of that description, alone or accompanied. Until you do, try not to look like cops. Be careful, because she's armed and very dangerous.” Dino released the talk button on the radio. “This isn't going to work,” he said.

“Why not?” Stone asked. “We may get lucky.”

“I don't get this lucky,” Dino said. “You get this lucky. Anyway, if we catch her, she's going to kill at least one cop before somebody shoots her.”

Stone didn't comment on that.

“Remind me,” Dino said. “How did I get mixed up in this?”

“There was a murder on your beat,” Stone said.

“Oh, yeah. Next, you're going to remind me that I had her in custody and let her go.”

“I wasn't going to, but, of course, that's true.”

“I'm going to be lucky to get out of this with my badge.”

“Dino, all you have to do is blame it on the Brits and the FBI.”

Dino brightened. “Yeah, you're right.” He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Right here.”

Dino and Stone got out of the car. “You take the east side of the street, I'll take the west,” he said to Stone. “Are you carrying?”

“No.”

Dino handed him a .32 automatic. “Take my backup.”

“Thanks,” Stone replied.

The two men began walking south on Madison. It was well after dark, but there were still a lot of people on the street.

Stone looked carefully at every woman he saw, looking for something familiar. She may have already changed clothes, he thought, but he might be able to recognize her. Then, half a block away from him, walking slowly uptown, he saw her. She wasn't
wearing gloves, but her dress was black, and her hair shoulder-length and dark. The face? He couldn't tell; each time he had seen her she had looked so different. His hand closed over the gun in his pocket. She stopped and looked into a shop window for a moment.

Stone looked across the street at Dino and nodded toward the woman. Dino began making his way across Madison Avenue, through heavy traffic, not waiting for the light.

Stone walked up to her. “Excuse me, haven't we met?” he asked.

She turned and looked at him. “No,” she said with a little smile. “But I certainly have no objection.”

Dino stood directly behind her. “Miss,” he said, “I'm a police officer. Please stand perfectly still.”

She looked over her shoulder. “What is this, a gang bang?”

“Let me see some ID,” Dino said.

Stone grabbed the bag before she could reach into it, then handed it to Dino, still looking into her eyes.

She looked back, with interest. “So, this is how the NYPD amuses itself in the evenings?”

“When the weather's nice,” Stone said.

“What's your name?” Dino asked, looking at the driver's license in his hand.

“Donna Howe Baldwin,” she said.

“Social Security number?”

She recited it. “But you won't find it on my license. They don't do it that way in Florida.”

“Why do you carry a Florida driver's license?” Dino asked.

“Because I live in Miami. My address is on the license.”

“Why are you in New York?”

“Because I heard what a lot of fun the police are here.”

Stone looked at Dino and shook his head. “It's not Marie-Thérèse.”

“I could be, if you wanted me to,” the woman said. “Are we done here?”

“Yes,” Dino said, handing back her handbag. “I'm sorry to have detained you. We're usually nicer to out-of-town visitors.”

“You still could be,” the woman said. “I've no objection to two dates. Who's buying the drinks?”

“Perhaps another time,” Stone said.

She handed him a card. “I'm at the Plaza for two more days. Anytime at all.” She looked at Dino. “And be sure to bring your friend.” She continued walking uptown.

“Well,” Dino remarked, “I said you would be the one to get lucky.”

“Looks like we both did,” Stone said.

Dino went back across the street, and they continued their walk downtown, inspecting every woman they encountered. Once, Dino showed his badge and asked a woman for ID, then she continued uptown, apparently livid.

At Seventy-second Street, they met the four detectives coming the other way, and Dino's car caught up with them.

“Why do I think she was going uptown?” Dino asked.

“Because she was walking away from the Four Seasons,” Stone replied.

“What's uptown from Seventy-third?” Dino asked.

“A couple of hotels: the Westbury and the Carlyle.”

“It's worth a try,” Dino said. “You four guys take the Westbury. Get the manager to give you a list of every single woman staying in the hotel and question every one of them who even remotely matches the description. Stone, you and I will take the Carlyle.” They got into Dino's car and started uptown.

“This isn't the worst idea you've ever had,” Stone said. “She's got to be sleeping somewhere, and the Carlyle is about the last place you'd look.”

“The worst idea I ever had was showing up with you in Bryant Park yesterday,” Dino said.

The car stopped, and they got out.

“You know anybody here?” Dino asked, as they went in through the Madison Avenue entrance of the hotel.

“The manager,” Stone replied. “He won't be here this time of night, but I can drop his name.”

“Never mind, I'll just drop my badge,” Dino replied as they approached the front desk.

Stone's cell phone vibrated, and he flipped it open. “Hello?”

“It's Carpenter,” she said.

Stone was surprised how glad he was to hear from her.

“Where are you?”

“With the director of the FBI at a government flat in the Waldorf Towers.”

“Stay there. It's dangerous everywhere else.”

“I intend to, for the moment. Have you spoken to Dino?”

“I'm
with
Dino.”

“Is Sir Edward dead? Is it confirmed? These people won't tell me anything.”

“It's confirmed.”

“Oh, shit,” she said.

“Well, yes.”

“Ask Dino where I can claim his body.”

“At the city morgue, but after a postmortem.”

“Is there any way to avoid that? I'd like to get him home.”

“Ask the director. He can probably call somebody.”

“He's very annoyed at everyone in the New York City government, from Dino to the mayor.”

“That's because Dino wouldn't let him play in his pond, and the commissioner and, presumably, the mayor backed up Dino.”

“Something like that. Apparently, he has all these men in black with guns, and he can't use them.”

“That always annoys the FBI.”

“Will you come and see me here?”

“The FBI would probably shoot me if I tried.”

“I want to see you. I need to see you.”

“Don't you think it would be a little crowded in a hotel suite with you, me, and the director all there?”

“I'll figure something out.”

“Tell me, was Mason on the scene when Marie-Thérèse's parents were killed?”

She paused. “Sort of. He was in a van nearby.”

“Then you'd better tell him to watch his ass. Who else was there, who's still alive?”

“Just the two of us.”

“If I were you, I'd order up an airplane to an airport other than Kennedy and get out of the country. She knows where you've been camping out in New York. You'd be safer in London.”

“I'll think about it. Does she know I've stayed at your house?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

“I'll call you later, on your cell phone.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, but I don't know when.”

“Whenever, just call.” Stone hung up. “Carpenter's a little stressed,” he said.

“Who wouldn't be?”

The duty manager came to the front desk.

Dino showed him a badge. “I'm Lieutenant Bacchetti. I need a list of all the women staying in the hotel who are traveling alone.”

“What for?” the man asked.

“There may be a lady murderer in your hotel, and I'd like to arrest her before she kills some of your guests or staff.”

“Just a minute,” the man said, then went to a computer terminal. “We've got three.”

“Do you know them by sight?”

“I know Mrs. King, from Dallas. She's stayed here before. And Ms. Shapiro, from San Francisco. I don't know Mrs. Applebaum, from Chicago.”

Dino gave him the description.

“Both Mrs. King and Ms. Shapiro fit the general description,” the manager said.

“I want to speak to both of them, but I don't want them to know we're the police,” Dino said. “And find me somebody who knows Mrs. Applebaum by sight.”

“Just a minute.” The manager went away for a moment and came back with another man. “This is the concierge. He knows Mrs. Applebaum, and she's in her sixties.”

“All right, here's what we do,” Dino said. “You make up a story that gets both women out of their rooms for long enough for us to get a look at them.”

“I could tell them we have a small fire in a suite near them, and ask them to leave their rooms for a few minutes.”

“Where will you move them?”

The manager checked his computer. “I have empty suites near both of them,” he said.

“Get us some hotel coveralls and a toolbox,” Dino said. “Let's start with Ms. Shapiro.”

The manager took Dino and Stone into his office and ordered coveralls for them, then he picked up the phone and called the room. “Ms. Shapiro, this is the duty manager speaking. I'm sorry to disturb you, but we have a small electrical fire in the suite below you, and I'm going to have to move you temporarily to a room down the hall while the electrician checks your room. . . . Yes, I'm really very sorry. May I bring him upstairs? . . . Thank you.” He turned to Dino. “Ready?”

Dino and Stone stood on either side of the manager while he rang the doorbell. Each had his hand on a gun.

The door opened and a woman in a dressing gown greeted them.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the manager said.

“Glad to help,” she replied.

She had a very large, and quite beautiful nose, Stone thought. He looked at Dino and shook his head.

Dino put his cell phone to his ear. “Yes? Thank you.” He turned to the manager. “The problem's been fixed,” he said. “We won't have to disturb Ms. Shapiro.”

“That's good news,” the manager said. “Again, I'm very sorry, Ms. Shapiro.”

She smiled and closed the door.

Dino handed the man his cell phone. “Now, Mrs. King,” he said.

The manager called the front desk and asked for Mrs. King's suite. “No answer,” he said. “She must be out.”

“You got a passkey?” Dino asked.

“Yes, but you realize it would be an illegal search.”

“Not with your permission.”

The man handed over the key. “It's two floors up—nineteen-seventeen.”

“Thanks,” Dino said. “I'll return this to you. Let's go, Stone.”

 

Downstairs, in the Café Carlyle, Marie-Thérèse was deep in conversation with a man at the bar.

Musicians began taking their places at the opposite side of the room, and a voice came over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Café Carlyle is proud to present, in his thirtieth season at the Carlyle, Mr. Bobby Short!”

The music began, and Marie-Thérèse and her new acquaintance turned toward the stage.