Stuart Woods: D.C. Dead

“Of course, my love, go ahead.”

“Please,” Stone said, “it’s Stone and Dino.”

She smiled, then continued. “Stone and Dino, you may recall that a year ago there was a murder on the grounds of the White House.”

“I remember hearing about it on the news. The husband took his own life shortly thereafter, and was blamed for the killing.”

“That is correct. Her name was Mimi Kendrick, and her husband was Brixton Kendrick. She was my social secretary, and he was, in effect, the manager of the White House, in charge of the physical plant and the office arrangements.”

Stone made a note of the names.

“The problem is,” the first lady said, “Will and I don’t believe Brix killed his wife.”

“Oh?”

She shook her head. “The investigation was, to Will’s and my mind, inconclusive. Because the Kendricks were federal employees on what, in effect, is a government reservation, the D.C. police were not involved. The FBI and the Secret Service conducted the investigation. Secret Service personnel are not trained as detectives, and it’s my own belief, perhaps colored by my association with the CIA, that FBI agents are not awfully good at investigating homicides, either.” She looked at her nails. “It’s possible that the White House staff were too willing to accept the Bureau’s conclusions, given the proximity of the midterm elections. Will didn’t want a stink, either, and I, in my position, was not about to publicly criticize the Bureau.”

“I understand,” Stone said.

Will Lee spoke up. “I’m a lame-duck president now, and I don’t really give too much of a damn about stepping on bureaucratic toes or contradicting the wise. I want to know, both for the sake of justice and for my own satisfaction, what actually occurred, and if there is a responsible person still out there, I want to see him tried and convicted.”

The first lady cleared her throat. “Holly suggested that, because of your current status with the NYPD, Dino, and because you, Stone, are a retired homicide detective, and because you are both under contract to the Agency, you two might be best qualified to review the investigation quietly and draw conclusions.”

“I see,” Stone replied.

“We’d be glad to do that,” Dino said. “Will we have access to the FBI’s file on the case?”

She handed Dino a briefcase that was resting against her chair. “Everything’s in here,” she said. “The Secret Service file, too. Take it all with you after dinner.”

“Anybody want another drink before we dine?” the president asked.

Everyone demurred.

“Good, I’m hungry.”

Stone noticed that dinner had not been announced, but as soon as the president was seated, food began magically arriving. They dined on a rib roast of beef, rice, and green beans, and a bottle of good California Cabernet.

They stayed for A quick brandy after dinner, then the president rose, signaling their imminent departure. “Do you have any questions?” he asked Stone and Dino.

“Not at the moment, Mr. Pr-Will. Whom should we contact when we do?”

The first lady spoke up. “Call Holly first, and if she doesn’t satisfy you, call me at my office. My secretary will know your names. If we need to meet again, we’ll do it here. In the meantime, the White House staff will be apprised of your identities, and you may prowl around with an escort appointed by the chief of staff, Tim Coleman. Just call him, if you need to.”

Stone and Dino said their good-byes, and Holly left with them.

When they were in the eleinoe in thvator, Stone asked, “Holly, what have you gotten us into?”

“After you’ve read the file, you can tell me,” she replied. “Where did you choose to stay?”

“At the Hay-Adams.”

“Nice. Are you sharing a room?”

“No, Dino has his own accommodations.”

“Good, then you may invite me back for a drink,” she said. “I’ll drive myself and meet you there.”

The elevator doors opened, and they were escorted back to the entrance, where their cars awaited.

Stone and Dino got out of their sinister SUV at the Hay-Adams, and Holly pulled in behind them. Stone turned to Dino. “Go to your room,” he said.

“Yes, Poppa, and be sure to close your door so I can’t hear your pitiful cries.”

Stone opened the car door for Holly and told the valet to put it on his tab.

“Where’s Dino?” Holly asked.

“He’s been sent to his room.”

“Oh, good.”

Stone led her to the elevator and thence to the suite.

“My goodness,” Holly said, “is the Agency paying for this?”

“Only to the extent of your miserable per diem,” Stone replied. “Drink?”

“Oh, yes; brandy, please.”

Stone poured them each one from the generous bar on the sideboard, and they sat down on the sofa, with the sight of the brightly lit White House through the French doors in the distance. Dino’s door was tightly shut.

Holly set down her glass, took Stone’s face in her hands, and kissed him firmly, then she picked up her glass again and took a sip. “I want to tell you some things,” she said. “Personal things.”

“All right,” Stone said, not sure where this was leading.

“I know, perhaps better than anyone else, what you’ve been going through since Arrington’s death.”

Stone said nothing.

“You’ll remember, since you were a witness to his murder during that bank robbery, that the love of my life, Jackson Oxenhand-ler, was taken from me in much the same way that Arrington was taken from you.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I remember what I went through during the months that followed. I remember the dreams I had, the yearnings that could not be fulfilled, the pain, the constant pain. The pain, by the way, lessens after a while, then goes away.”

“I’m experiencing that,” Stone said, “and I feel guilty about it.”

“So did I, and all I can tell you is don’t worry about it. It takes care of itself, eventually.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“The other thing I remember vividly was how-you should excuse the expression-horny I was. I thought about sex with Jackson every time I lay down to go to sleep. After a few weeks, it surprised me that I thought about sex with you.”

“That does surprise me.n se”

“I know, we’d only just met, but some reptilian part of my brain began to distinguish between a dead lover and a potential lover who was out there, alive. So, when we finally had the opportunity, I was ready for you. And I’ve enjoyed every moment in bed with you since then, when we had the opportunity.”

“And I with you. When you walked into Elaine’s last night, I felt . . . as the song says, ‘that old feeling.’”

“Good. That means you’re alive and well, and you’re about where I was at this stage. Do you want me now?”

Stone stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Oh, yes. And I feel guilty about that, too.”

“Don’t,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the open bedroom door. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

And she was. She undressed them both and lay in Stone’s arms, caressing and kissing various parts of him. When she was ready-and when he was ready-she took him inside her, and for an hour, maybe more, they did the things they had always done with each other.

Stone was awakened by sunlight coming into his room. The curtains were open, and he could hear the shower running. He joined Holly, and they soaped and scrubbed each other, then they made love again.

Finally, they got into robes and went into the living room, where Dino was sitting in a comfortable chair, reading the Washington Post. “Good morning,” he said. “I’ve ordered breakfast for us.”