Stuart Woods - Lucid Intervals

“Couldn’t find anything juicier than that?”

“Not until you left the police, passed the bar exam and went to work for Woodman and Weld. It got a lot more interesting after that. My God, the women!”

Stone reddened. “You’re a prying woman.”

“I’d be a fool not to be, with a staff of researchers and a curious nature,” she said blithely.

“Do you pry so deeply into the backgrounds of all the men you meet?”

“All the ones I sleep with,” she said, “before I sleep with them.”

“And have you turned up any cads?”

“One cashiered army officer who embezzled his regiment’s funds,” she said. “One self-styled entrepreneur who turned out to be a bookmaker, haunting the tracks every day, and one murderer.”

“Tell me about the murderer,” Stone said.

“I had been seeing him for about a year,” she said. “I had just turned thirty and had been promoted to a position in my service that gave me access to a great deal of information. There was talk of marriage. He inherited quite a lot of money and a fine country property from his elder brother, who had died in a farming accident, and he proposed. I vetted him and found that he had been a suspect in the death of an elderly aunt in Scotland, and I brought that to the attention of the police. A few days later two detectives arrived at a restaurant where we were dining and took him away, charging him with his brother’s murder. It was revealed at the trial that he had driven a tractor over the poor fellow and then harrowed him. Tried to make it look like he’d fallen off the machine and under the harrow.”

“And you turned him in?”

“Most certainly,” she replied. “I am an upstanding subject of Her Majesty and an upholder of the law. If he’d been acquitted,” she added, “I’d have married him. As it was, he got life.”

Stone’s cell phone buzzed at his belt. He looked at it and saw Dino was calling. “Excuse me,” he said, and answered it.

“Hello, Dino.”

“Where the hell are you?” Dino asked.

“It’s a secret.”

“I can find out, you know; I’m a detective.”

“Far, far away,” Stone said.

“Well, you’d better get your ass back here,” Dino replied.

“Why?”

“Because your esteemed client, Mr. Herbert Fisher, has been arrested for the murder of his girlfriend, one Sheila Seidman. My guys say he tossed her off his penthouse; she made a mess on Park Avenue.”

“I don’t believe it,” Stone said.

“I don’t know why not,” Dino replied. “If she’d been my girlfriend I’d have offed her a long time ago. Anyway, Herbie’s back in the tank, and he won’t talk to anybody but you. What time will you be here?”

“I’m in Maine, Dino; it’ll have to be tomorrow.”

“Stay another week, for all I care. I just wanted to give you the message.”

“Tell Herbie tomorrow afternoon,” Stone said.

“Okey dokey,” Dino replied. “Felicity with you?”

“That information is classified,” Stone said.

“That means she’s with you. It wouldn’t be classified, if she weren’t.”

“You’re too smart for me, Dino.”

“I always was,” Dino replied and then hung up.

Stone put the phone back in its holster.

“So what difficulty has Mr. Fisher got himself into now?” Felicity asked.

“Apparently, Herbie’s girlfriend, an unbearable woman named Sheila, a prostitute by trade, has taken a dive from the terrace of his new penthouse, and the squad at the Nineteenth like Herbie for it. I have to go back tomorrow morning and deal with the situation, Herbie having paid me a large retainer to look after him.”

“You think he did it?” Felicity asked.

“Let me put it this way,” Stone said. “Today is going to be either the worst day or the best day of his life.”

The following morning Stone was loading their luggage into the 1938 Ford when Mary called to him from the house. “Phone for you, Mr. Stone.”

Stone went back into the living room and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Jim Hackett,” a voice said. “When are you planning to return to New York?”

“In a matter of minutes,” Stone said. “One of my clients is in a jam, and we’re just leaving for the airport. Do you need the airplane?”

“No, no, it’s not that. I have a G-550 for long-distance travel; the Mustang is for personal pleasure. I’m calling from the Gulfstream now, on my way home. There are some things I want to discuss with you.”

“I’ll be in the city by noon,” Stone said.

“Then come and see me in my office tomorrow morning at eight,” Hackett said. “Where are you staying?”

“In my own home,” Stone replied.

“Not a good idea; the crazy lady is still on the loose. The company keeps a suite at the Plaza for important guests. Tell them I sent you, and stay there until it’s safe.”

“How will I know when it’s safe?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“All right, Jim. See you tomorrow morning.” Stone hung up and went back to the car.

At the airport, after a long preflight inspection and a careful reading of the checklist, Stone positioned the airplane at the very end of the runway, did his pre-takeoff check, then shoved the throttles to the firewall while standing on the brakes. When the instruments showed the engines were producing every drop of available power, he released the brakes and the airplane pressed him back into his seat. He kept one eye on the rapidly disappearing runway and the other on the airspeed tape until the little R landed on the pointer, then he put both hands on the yoke and pulled it back until the flight director told him he was at the correct angle for takeoff.

The airplane rose, just as it seemed there was no runway left, and climbed as it had been designed to.

“Well,” Felicity said, “it’s reassuring to know this little airplane can do that. For future reference.”

“I always knew the airplane could do that,” Stone replied, “because it’s in the flight manual.” He climbed to altitude and moved the throttles back to the cruise detent. “By the way, Jim has suggested that, since Dolce is still at large, we stay in his company’s suite at the Plaza. That okay with you, or do you want to move into the embassy?”

“I’ll stick with you,” she replied. “The ambassador’s wife drives me mad.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to need more clothes, though.”

“Give me a list, and I’ll have Joan pack a case for both of us and messenger them over to the Plaza.” Stone used the sat phone to call Joan.

“Did Dino get hold of you?” Joan asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go see Herbie this afternoon.” Stone gave her a list of what to pack for both of them.

THE PLAZA SUITE had one bedroom and a large living room, both overlooking Central Park. Felicity approved. “No good sniper position out there,” she said, peeking through the sheer curtains.

“Are you often the victim of sniper attacks?” Stone asked.

“It’s just a standard security concern,” she said. “After a while, the handlers get you trained; makes their work easier.”

The cases Joan sent over were already in the bedroom, and Stone and Felicity unpacked. Then they lunched on room service, and Stone left Felicity, who was watching a movie on the large TV screen in the bedroom.

HERBIE LOOKED AWFUL, and the orange jumpsuit didn’t help. “Where have you been?” he demanded of Stone. “I’ve been in here for nearly a whole day!”

“I was several hundred miles away when I heard, Herbie. I got here as soon as I returned to town. Now tell me, what happened?”

“It was yesterday morning,” Herbie said. “Sheila and I had breakfast in bed, and we were watching some morning TV when we got into an argument about you.”