Stuart Woods - Dirt

“What guy? Who was he?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Come on, Mr. Elliot, you’re not cutting it, here.”

“I mean, his real name. His street name is Lowrider.”

“And how did you come to know Lowrider?”

“I fell into conversation with him in Central Park; he was selling drugs. I told him I was interested in something for personal protection, and he said he could have something for me the next day.”

“And did he?”

“Yes, a twenty-five Beretta, nickel-plated.”

“How much did you pay him for it?”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”

Dino knew immediately that something was wrong here. “That’s an awful lot of money for a street gun, especially small caliber,” he said slowly. His gaze let the lawyer know that he was suspicious.

“Yeah, well, maybe so, but I don’t buy all that many guns on the street, you know?”

“Mr. Elliot, you’d better tell me all of it, and right now.”

Elliot began to look very uncomfortable. He looked around the bar, checked the position of the bartender, and drained his glass of whiskey. “All right, it had a silencer.”

Dino’s eyebrows went up. “I see,” he said. “Well, that would certainly put the price up. Now why…”

Elliot held up a hand. “That’s it; I told you what I said I would; I’m not answering any more questions.” He rose to leave.

Dino put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the barstool. “We’re not finished,” he said.

Elliot sat down but said nothing.

“And you kept the weapon in your safe?” Dino asked.

“Yes.”

“The same safe that held the thirty-five thousand dollars that you reported stolen?”

“That’s right.”

“Where is the safe located?”

“In my dressing room. It’s one of those that fits between the studs in the wall.”

“And what else was in the safe besides the pistol and the cash?”

“A jewelry box.”

“Was the stolen watch in the jewelry box?”

“Yes, a Cartier Panther with a gold bracelet.”

“Was there anything else of value in the jewelry box?”

“About fifty thousand dollars’ worth of assorted jewelry – diamond cuff links, things like that.”

“Mr. Elliot, why did you have thirty-five thousand dollars in cash in your safe?”

Elliot glared at him. “I can’t always get to the ATM when I need cash,” he said. “And that’s all I have to say on that subject.”

Dino nodded. “Did you make a record of the serial number on the pistol?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Elliot said, handing Dino a scrap of paper.

“Very good,” Dino said. “Why? I mean, you weren’t exactly going to register the warranty, were you?”

“Habit,” Elliot said.

“Well, I’m very grateful to you for all this information,” Dino said, slipping the serial number into his pocket. “It may very well help capture a murderer.”

“Good.” Elliot looked at his watch.

“I’m so grateful that I’m going to give you a very valuable piece of advice, Mr. Elliot.”

“Yeah?”

“The combination of a lot of cash in a safe with a silenced pistol raises a very large warning flag,” Dino said. “So I’m going to advise you right now that if any loved one of yours, say your wife, were to meet a sudden end; if something awful should happen to a business associate of yours; in fact, if your name should arise in any investigation of a death by any cause, then I’m coming to see you. Do you get my drift?”

Elliot looked him in the eye. “I do.”

“Good, because dealing with that kind of event in your life would be so much more painful than whatever is causing you concern now.”

Elliot nodded.

Dino shook his hand and walked out of the bar.

Martha looked into Amanda’s office. “Anything else before I’m off?”

“No, dear. Listen, why don’t you come up to the country with me tomorrow? Just for the day. Unless you have some plans, of course.”

Martha sighed. “No, I don’t have any plans. I’d love to.”

Amanda smiled a disarming smile. “It’ll be just the two of us, dear.”

Driving Amanda’s car, Martha turned onto the dirt road, as directed. “It’s so lovely up here,” she said. “I’ve never been to Connecticut before.”

“Yes, it is lovely, isn’t it?” Amanda replied. “The leaves are just a bit past their peak, but still glorious. Make your next left up ahead, dear.”

Martha followed her instructions and drew up before Amanda’s house. “Oh, it’s too perfect! What a wonderful place!”

“Thank you, dear,” Amanda said. “Let’s go inside.” She got the shopping basket from the rear seat, unlocked the door, and strode off toward the kitchen. “Don’t even take your coat off,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll just get a bottle of wine, and we’ll have a picnic up at Steep Rock.”

“Where?” Martha asked.

“Steep Rock is a beautiful land preserve that borders my property. You’ll love it.”

“How far is it? I’m not much of a walker.”

“Oh, not far, and believe me, it’s worth the effort.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Amanda put a bottle of wine and a corkscrew into her basket, locked the door, and led the way at a brisk pace. “Come on, Martha!” she called out. “Let’s get that heart pumping!”

Martha hurried along behind her, already beginning to pant. “How much farther?”

“Not far; hurry up.”

At the top of the long hill Amanda spread out a tablecloth and opened the bottle of wine. She had already drunk half a glass when Martha came lumbering up the hill and flopped down beside her, completely out of breath.

“Take that heavy coat off,” Amanda said. “You’ll cool down much quicker. And here, have some wine.”

“Do you have any water?”

“I’m sorry, dear, I only brought the wine.”

Martha accepted the glass and drank it greedily. “I’m so thirsty,” she puffed.

Amanda refilled her glass. “Of course you are. It’s a very nice Chardonnay, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Martha was beginning to catch her breath now.

“Have some bread and cheese,” Amanda said. “It will fortify you for the walk back.”

“Thank God it will be downhill,” Martha said, digging into the food.

Amanda kept her glass full.

When they had finished their lunch, Amanda leaned back against a tree. “Now,” she said. “We’re all alone, just the two of us. Time for some frank girl-to-girl talk.”

Martha looked worried, but didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t we start with Jonathan Dryer,” Amanda said. “Tell me about him.”

Martha seemed to hold her breath for a moment, then answered, “Who?”

“Why, the young man you’ve been sleeping with,” Amanda said. “Did you think you could keep a secret from me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean,” Martha said. She was blushing now.

“Martha, darling, it’s useless to play this game. I’ve had detectives following you, listening in on your telephone conversations. You were seen going into Dryer’s apartment and your phone conversations were taped. I think you’ll feel a lot better when you’ve told me everything.” In that part of the brain that deals with fury and revenge, Amanda felt a small explosion, but she kept her temper. “How did you meet him, Martha?”

Martha’s shoulders slumped. “At the grocery store,” she said. “We talked about food; he knows a lot about food and wine.”

“I’m sure he does, dear. When did you start talking about my business? Before or after you began fucking him?”

Martha blushed even redder. “I don’t really think that’s your business…”