Stuart Woods - Worst Fears Realized

“One other thing: I think the perp was still in the building when I got back with the food.”

“Why do you think that?”

“When I rang for the elevator, it was on the top floor, and this is the only apartment on twelve. The elevator moved down to six, stopped, then continued to the ground floor. Where was it when you got here?”

“On the ground floor,” Anderson said.

“Then, unless another tenant or a visitor used the elevator between the time I got to this floor and the time you arrived, the perp waited on six until the car stopped up here and I got out, then he rang for it again and rode it down to the ground floor.”

“Pretty cool,” Dino said.

“Yes, pretty cool,” Stone agreed.

The uniformed cop returned. “A Miss Bean ordered the food by phone; the time is written on the check, right here,” he said, placing the check on the table. “A man arrived to pick up the food half an hour later, waited five minutes, paid for it, and left. He was over six feet, blond hair, medium to heavy build, dressed in a raincoat.”

Anderson looked at the check and did some mental calculating. “That checks with your story, Mr. Barrington,” he said.

“Measure the water in the kettle,” Stone said.

“What?”

“When I left, Susan said she was going to make some tea. Let’s find out how long it takes for the same amount of water to boil. That might help with the time frame.”

“Do it, Mick,” Anderson said. Kelly got up and went into the kitchen.

They continued talking until the kettle started to whistle. Anderson looked at his watch. “I make it three and a half minutes.”

“How much water was in the kettle?” Stone asked Kelly.

“A little under three cups,” Kelly replied sullenly.

“Here’s one scenario, then,” Stone said. “The killer arrives shortly after I leave. Within three and a half minutes. He kills her, then the kettle starts whistling. He turns off the kettle.”

“Why?” Kelly asked.

“Because nobody can stand around and listen to a kettle screaming like that,” Stone said. “Let’s see, five minutes for me to walk to the restaurant, I wait five minutes, and five minutes to come back, say fifteen to eighteen minutes. And when I get back, the killer is still in the apartment, maybe. So if he is, what does he do for fifteen minutes?”

“Searches the place,” Anderson said. “A robbery, maybe.”

The second uniform spoke up. “I had a look in the bedroom,” he said. “Neat as a pin. There’s a jewelry box on the dresser with some nice-looking stuff in it.”

“So it wasn’t a robbery,” Anderson said. “What was he looking for?”

“Something of value only to him,” Dino replied, standing up and walking to a desk in the living room. He opened the drawers one at a time, including a file drawer, then came back. “Everything is neat. No way to tell if the killer found something.”

Kelly spoke up. “And the killer turned on the kettle again before he left? What for?”

“To screw up our timeline,” Stone said. “He wanted us to think that he killed her, then left immediately. I think he followed us from Brougham’s place, or at least, picked us up on the street en route.”

“Did you see anybody?” Dino asked.

“No, but it seems to me that he followed us, waited for me to leave, then went upstairs.”

“How’d he get in?” Kelly asked.

“Rang the bell; maybe she thought it was me, even though she had given me the key.”

“And she let him in?”

“Maybe he forced his way in, or maybe she knew him,” Stone said.

“How’d he know when you were coming back?” Kelly asked.

“He didn’t; he thought I’d left to go home. He got lucky. I’ll bet he was getting on the elevator when I rang for it. Must have scared him.”

“Maybe,” Dino said. “Andy, send your patrolmen to talk to everybody in the building. Find out who came and went, and what time.”

“Right, Lieutenant,” Anderson said.

Dino looked at his watch. “I think it’s time to wake up Martin Brougham,” he said.

“The DA guy?” Kelly asked. “What for?”

“I want to take a look at her office,” Dino said. “Come on, Stone; I’ll drive you home; we can’t have you out on the streets with blood all over you. You’d just get arrested.” He turned to Kelly. “Apologize to Mr. Barrington for your behavior.”

Kelly turned beet red. “I apologize,” he said. “I thought you were the perp.”

“Something you should know, Mick,” Anderson said. “Mr. Barrington used to be a detective in the Nineteenth; he was Lieutenant Bacchetti’s partner.”

Kelly’s face fell. “I really am sorry,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Sorry about your nose,” Stone said. He took care not to sound as if he meant it.

STONE WAS AWAKENED BY A RINGING telephone. He rolled over, opened an eye, and looked at the bedside clock. Just past ten. He sat up on one elbow. He had been wide-awake until at least four, unable to sleep with the picture of Susan Bean’s body stuck in his mind. Finally, he had drifted off and overslept. He picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Morning.”

“You get any sleep?”

“Some. You find anything in Susan’s office?”

“Everything was neat as a pin, just like the apartment; nothing missing that anybody could figure. Brougham was pretty upset. Apparently, he depended on her a lot.”

“Anything on the murder?”

“Nothing yet, but whoever used the elevator when you came back was the perp. Nobody else in the building had budged from their apartments.”

“Not that it does us any good.”

“No. There were no prints, no evidence of any kind.”

“He had to have a lot of blood on him,” Stone said.

“You’re right, but the patrol cars didn’t come across anybody. Listen, there’s something else.”

“What?”

“Where’s Alma?”

Alma was Stone’s secretary, who had worked for him almost since the moment he had begun to practice law, after leaving the NYPD. “She should be in her office,” Stone replied.

“Put me on hold and call down there,” Dino said.

Stone pressed the HOLD button, then dialed Alma’s extension. There was no answer. He pressed line one again. “She’s not answering. She worked late last night, typing up a brief for me, so she could have overslept, I guess.”

“A woman matching her description was attacked on the sidewalk in your block last night sometime after midnight, when we were at the Bean apartment. She took something like a claw hammer in the head.”

Stone sat up and put his feet on the floor. “Where is she and how bad?”

“Lenox Hill, and it doesn’t look good. Does she have any family?”

“A sister in Westchester, and that’s it,” Stone said.

“She wasn’t carrying any ID, but she was wearing a Cartier watch that sounds like the one you gave her.”

“I’ll get up to Lenox Hill right now,” Stone said.

“Let me know if it’s Alma,” Dino replied, then hung up.

Stone got dressed in a hurry, gave his bloody clothes from the night before to his housekeeper to take to the cleaner’s, took a cab up to Lenox Hill Hospital, and presented himself at the main desk.

“My name is Stone Barrington,” he told the woman behind the desk. “The police called me this morning to say that a woman answering the description of my secretary was admitted last night with a head wound. I’d like to see her right away.”

“Just a minute, please,” the woman said. She dialed a number and spoke for a moment, then hung up. “Dr. Thompson will be with you in just a minute,” she said. “Please have a seat.”