Stuart Woods - New York Dead

“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers,” Dino said, as Van Fleet closed the door behind them.

Back in the car, Stone sighed. “Clean as a hound’s tooth,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dino agreed, disconsolately.

“Let’s go up to Sasha’s and go through those boxes.”

“Okay.”

There was a different doorman on duty when the detectives arrived at the building. Stone flashed his badge and asked for his key to the Nijinsky apartment. The man handed it over silently.

The moment they stepped off the elevator, it was obvious that something was wrong. The police notice fixed to the apartment door had been removed.

“The seal’s broken,” Dino said. “What the fuck?”

Stone led the way into the apartment. It was completely empty. The two men stood there looking helplessly about them, as if waiting for inspiration. Stone bent over and picked up a card from the floor.

Effective immediately,

Sasha Nijinsky is at

1011 Fifth Ave.

New York 10021.

Burn this.

“The movers,” Stone said.

“What?”

“The movers. She was moving the next morning.”

“What’s the new address?”

“Ten-eleven Fifth.” Stone didn’t mention that he knew someone else at that address.

“Let’s go see the doorman.”

Downstairs, Stone braced the doorman. “There was a police seal on the door of the Nijinsky apartment,” he said. “Who broke it?”

“Jesus, Officer,” the man pled, “I don’t know nothing. The moving people showed up and took her stuff; that’s all I know.”

They drove uptown in silence. The building was across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The doorman greeted them.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he said, blocking the entrance.

Stone showed his ID. “Miss Nijinsky’s apartment.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“We’d like to see it. This is part of a police investigation. Did some moving people bring some furniture and boxes here yesterday?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid I can’t let you into the apartment without permission, unless you’ve got a search warrant, of course.”

Dino sighed loudly. “I guess you know the lady’s in no condition to give permission.”

The doorman shrugged. “My hands are tied,” he said, “unless you get permission from the cooperative’s board of directors. If one of them says it’s okay, I’ll let you in.”

“Who’s the chairman of the cooperative’s board?” Stone asked.

The doorman went to a tin box on his desk and produced an index card. He handed it to Stone.

The name on the card was Barron Harkness.

Stone registered this for a moment, then showed the card to Dino. “May I use your telephone?” he asked the doorman.

“Sure,” the man said, placing a phone on the desk.

“An interesting connection, wouldn’t you say?” he asked Dino. He checked his notebook and dialed the number of the network.

A woman answered Harkness’s phone, a voice Stone didn’t recognize.

“Barron Harkness, please. My name is Barrington; he knows me.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrington, Mr. Harkness is in a meeting. May I have him return the call?”

“Let me speak with Cary Hilliard, please.”

“Ms. Hilliard is in the same meeting.”

Stone tried not to sound annoyed. “Please take a note to Mr. Harkness. Tell him Detective Stone Barrington would like to speak with him at once, and that it’s important.”

“I’m sorry, but-”

“Please do it now. This is police business.”

The woman hesitated. “All right,” she said finally. “What is your number?”

“I’ll hold.”

An irritating minute passed, then: “Barron Harkness.”

“Mr. Harkness, this is Stone Barrington. I’m at your apartment building, and I want your permission to enter Sasha Nijinsky’s apartment. The doorman insists on speaking with you before allowing entry.”

“But why?” Harkness asked. “Sasha never moved into the apartment; there’s nothing there. Legally, she didn’t even own the apartment; she was supposed to have closed on it the morning after she…”

“It appears that a moving company followed instructions she gave before her disappearance and moved her belongings into the apartment. The doorman let them in.”

Harkness hesitated, then spoke. “I’ll be right over there,” he said, and hung up before Stone could speak further.

Stone replaced the receiver and turned to Dino. “Harkness is coming over here.”

“Why?” Dino asked.

“Who knows? Maybe he’s being protective of his building’s reputation.”

The doorman spoke up. “That sounds like Mr. Harkness,” he said. “He and the board are very picky about what goes on here. That’s why I wouldn’t let you in. It woudda been my job, y’know.”

Stone nodded, then joined Dino on a sofa in the lobby to wait for Harkness.

They didn’t have to wait long. A black Lincoln Town Car pulled up at the curb, and Harkness strode into the building. He shook hands with Stone and was introduced to Dino. “All right,” he said, “let’s get this over with. I’ve got to get back to the office.”

“We don’t really need you for this,” Stone said, “if you’d like to go back now.”

Harkness fished a letter from an inside pocket and handed it to Stone. It was from a midtown law firm.

“You’re her executor?” Stone asked. “But we don’t even know that she’s dead.”

“I got the letter this morning; it was the first I’d heard of it.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m representing Sasha in this,” he said, “so, unless you want to get a search warrant, I’m going to have to go into that apartment with you.”

“All right,” Stone said.

“Eddie,” Harkness said to the doorman, “I’ll use my pass-key. We won’t need you.”

On the elevator, Stone turned to Harkness. “You say you didn’t know that Ms. Nijinsky had appointed you executor of her will?”

“Didn’t have a clue,” Harkness replied. “I was astonished, to tell you the truth.”

“Mr. Harkness, did you and Sasha Nijinsky ever have a romantic relationship?”

Harkness looked him in the eye. “Stone, I haven’t the slightest intention of answering that.”

The elevator door opened, and they stepped into a vestibule; only two apartments opened onto it, 10-J and 10-K. Harkness opened the door to 10-J and led the way in. There was an entrance hall, then a large living room. Furniture had been dumped here and there, as if the moving men had no instructions, and the boxes Stone had seen at Sasha’s old apartment were piled in the middle of the floor. Every one of them had been opened, and the woman’s belongings were strewn across the floor.

“Now that’s interesting,” Dino said.

Stone picked up a yellow movers’ receipt from the floor and handed it to Dino. “See if there’s a working phone; if not, go down and use the doorman’s. Get hold of the movers’ supervisor and ask him what the hell went on here.”

Dino took the receipt and went in search of a phone. “The one in the kitchen is working,” he called out.

“Do you have any idea who might have opened these boxes?” Stone asked Harkness.

“Not a clue,” Harkness replied. “As I said earlier, she didn’t even own the apartment yet. It would have been like Sasha, though, to have her stuff moved at the moment she would have been closing the sale. She wasn’t a woman who liked to be kept waiting.”

“I want to go through her belongings,” Stone said, “and I may want to remove some things for evidence. Have I your permission to do that?”

Harkness hesitated. “I think maybe I should talk to a lawyer, first. I want to do the right thing, here.”