Stuart Woods: Worst Fears Realized

Stone paced until the doctor turned up five minutes later. They shook hands. “I’d like to see the Jane Doe brought in last night,” he said. “She may be my secretary, Alma Hodges.”

“Describe your secretary,” the doctor said.

“Five-seven, a hundred and forty, early fifties, dark hair going gray, wearing a pin-striped suit.”

The doctor nodded. “Sounds like her. I’m sorry to tell you she died twenty minutes ago.”

Stone slumped.

“Her injuries were massive,” the doctor said. “She was struck at least half a dozen times with a blunt object, perhaps a hammer. The police thought it was a robbery, since she had no handbag or identification.”

“I’d better see her,” Stone said.

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” the doctor replied.

They rode the elevator down to the basement, and the doctor led the way to the morgue. The tray was pulled out of the refrigerator and the sheet pulled back.

She looked utterly peaceful, Stone thought, and quite beautiful. He was glad he didn’t have to look at the back of her head. He nodded. “That’s Alma Hodges,” he said.

“Did she have any family?” the doctor asked.

“A sister. I’ll speak to her; then I’ll make some arrangements.”

“An autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon; I should think the body will be ready for release first thing in the morning.”

Stone thanked the doctor and left the hospital. He took a cab home and went down to his office. Alma’s desk was in perfect order, his brief stacked neatly on top, with a note saying, SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.

Stone sat down heavily at her desk, found her phone book and her sister’s number. He broke the news as gently as he could and said he’d be glad to see to the arrangements. The woman thanked him and said that her brother-in-law was a mortician and she’d have him take care of it. Stone expressed his condolences and told the woman how loyal and valuable Alma had been to him and how much he would miss her. Finally, he was able to hang up, drained from the experience. The phone rang almost immediately.

“Stone Barrington,” he said.

“Morning, Stone, it’s Frank Maddox,” a man’s voice said. Maddox was the attorney for the insurance company Stone was suing.

“Yes, Frank?”

“My client has authorized me to offer your client half a million dollars.”

“Unacceptable,” Stone said. He had already thought out his strategy in responding to an offer. “I’m ready to go to trial.” He was anything but ready, he thought. “I’ll pass your offer on to my client, but with a strong recommendation that it be rejected.”

Maddox sighed. “What’s it going to take, Stone? Give me a realistic number, and I’ll go back to my client.”

“It’s going to take a million dollars, plus a three-hundred-thousand-dollar attorney’s fee, and that’s bottom line, Frank. Don’t bother with a counteroffer; just show up in court tomorrow.”

“Hold on, Stone.” Maddox punched the HOLD button.

Stone waited. Maddox was obviously with his client.

Shortly, the lawyer came back on. “Done,” he said.

“I’ll want your check by close of business today,” Stone said. “I’m not canceling our court date until the money is in the bank.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Maddox said. “I’ll messenger it over to your office this afternoon.”

“Send it to Bill Eggers at Woodman and Weld,” Stone said. “I may be out this afternoon, and my secretary isn’t in today.”

“Fine; I’ll include the usual release.” Maddox hung up.

Stone called Woodman & Weld and asked for Bill Eggers, the managing partner.

“Bill Eggers.”

“Bill, it’s Stone.”

“Morning, Stone. You going to trial tomorrow?”

“They’ve just settled for a million, plus my fee. The check is coming to you this afternoon. Will you let the client know? I’d call her myself, but it’s a very bad day.”

“Sure, I’ll call her. I think it’s a hell of a settlement. What’s wrong?”

“Alma was attacked on the street last night, after leaving work; she died this morning.”

“Oh, Jesus, Stone, I’m so sorry. I know how close you were.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty shaken. I think I’m just going to shut down the phones and take the day.”

“You do that. You want me to find somebody to help you out with the work? I can speak to our personnel director.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Stone said. “But don’t send anybody until tomorrow.”

“Fine. Again, I’m sorry, Stone. You take it easy.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Stone hung up. He should have been elated at the settlement and a rich fee, but he felt nothing but depression. Two women he knew, one of whom he had been very close to, had been murdered within twelve hours of each other. He switched on his answering machine and recorded a new message. “This is Stone Barrington. I won’t be taking any calls today, but if you’ll leave a message, I’ll return your call tomorrow.”

He trudged back upstairs, switched off his phone, and fell into bed, exhausted.

STONE GOT UP AS DARKNESS WAS FALLING. He got into some khaki trousers, a shirt, and some moccasins, then went to the kitchenette in the master suite and made himself a cup of tea, with a large dollop of honey. He took the mug down one floor to his study and sat in one of a pair of wing chairs before the window overlooking the garden. The doorbell rang; Stone picked up the phone beside his chair. “Yes?”

“It’s Dino.”

“Come on in; I’m in the study.” He pressed the button on the phone that opened the front door.

Dino walked into the study and threw his coat on the sofa.

“Hi. Want a cup of tea?”

“I want a cup of scotch,” Dino replied.

“Help yourself.”

Dino went to the little wet bar concealed behind a panel and fixed himself a scotch on the rocks, then came and sat down in the chair next to Stone’s. “How about some lights?” Dino said.

“I like it this way at dusk,” Stone replied. “Leave it for a few minutes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody worked me over with a baseball bat.”

“You went to the hospital?”

“Yeah; it was Alma. Sorry, I forgot to call and tell you.”

“A citizen found her handbag in a wastebasket a couple of blocks away. There was over a hundred bucks in it, plus her credit cards.”

“Nothing at all taken?”

“Not that we can figure.”

“Doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.”

“She was such a happy person,” Stone said. “Didn’t matter if I was having a grumpy day; she just took it in stride. Always managed to cheer me up.”

“She was a nice lady,” Dino said. “I always liked her.”

They sat quietly for a while, watching the garden grow dark and the lights come on in the other houses in Turtle Bay, all of which backed up onto the same garden.

“Stone,” Dino said finally.

“Yeah?”

“You see any possible connection between these two killings?”

“I thought about that; the only connection is me.”

“I thought about that, too,” Dino said. “Think for a minute: Is there somebody out there who hates you enough to want to kill people you know?”

“I thought about that, too; couldn’t think of anybody.”

“Neither could I.”

“They can’t be connected,” Stone said. “It’s just an awful coincidence.”

“I think you’re right; I just had to explore the other possibility.”

“I know.”

“When you’re a cop, or when you’ve been a cop, it’s always hanging over your head.”

“What is?”

Dino sighed. “The other possibility. The idea that somebody you’ve busted and sent up will come back to haunt you, to get even. I think that, after getting killed in the line of duty, it’s every cop’s worst fear.”