Стюарт Вудс - Class Act

“Sounds like your timing for leaving was good.”

“I hadn’t planned it, I just got fed up. He came home while I was moving out, and words were spoken. I was lucky I got out of there without a broken nose.”

“Were there witnesses who saw you leave and got a look at him, too?”

“Yes, there were: two guys from the storage place and a cabdriver, who drove me to the airport.”

“Don’t forget their names or how to get in touch with them.”

“Did Brian Goode know about this?”

“I think he was the one who told Dino.”

“I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me.”

“You could put that to him in the form of a question. Oh, and expect to be hearing from the local cops down there.”

“Should I be worried?” she asked.

“Not if the three guys cover you. One would be enough, but three is solid gold.”

“Whew! I mean, I’m sorry Manny’s dead, but not sorry enough to get blamed for it.”

“Who hated him enough to do this?”

“How long have you got? He was not a lovable guy most of the time, and burning down the house is just the sort of thing he would have done himself when he was angry — and he was plenty angry the last time I saw him.”

“Have you got a cell phone?”

“Yes, but I turned it off when I was performing — ah, singing — last night, and I didn’t turn it back on.”

“Chances are you have a message or two relating to Manny.”

She found her purse and switched on the phone. “You’re right,” she said, “but I don’t feel like talking to them now.”

“There’s not likely going to be a time when you’ll feel like talking to the police about somebody who’s been murdered, so don’t put it off. It will just get harder.”

“Then I may as well suck it up,” she said. “Excuse me for a while.” She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Stone was halfway through the Times crossword before she emerged again, this time wearing her dress and brushing her hair.

“How’d it go?”

“Okay, I think, but you never know about those guys.”

“Did they read you your rights?”

She looked at him. “No. Should they have?”

“They should have. You may want to remember that later, if they come back.”

“Are they likely to?”

“It’s almost guaranteed.”

“What should I say to them then?”

“Say, ‘Gentlemen, I’ve told you everything I know about these events, and I will have nothing further to say about them.’ Then hang up. If they keep trying, call me before you talk to them again.”

She sat down on the bed and kissed him. “You’re a dear, not to mention terrific in the hay.”

“Another horse reference,” Stone said.

“Now, I’ve got to go to my hotel and put on some civilian clothes. I have an appointment with a record producer for lunch.”

“Don’t get stuck with the tab,” Stone said, kissing her goodbye. “My driver will meet you downstairs and drive you to your hotel. If you like, he’ll wait and drive you to lunch, too.”

“Oh, how nice!”

“His name is Fred. If you encounter a Labrador retriever on the way out, his name is Bob — so you won’t confuse them.”

She gave him another kiss, then left.

Stone called Fred and gave him his instructions.

Stone took a call from Dino later that morning. “Hey.”

“Has she cleared the premises yet?”

“Who? What premises?”

“Guess who, and which premises.”

“Oh, you mean Hilda?”

“That’s right. She has a name.”

“She does. Feel free to use it when speaking of her.”

“You sound a little defensive,” Dino said. “That means she stayed the night, huh?”

“It was late when she finished her second set. I wouldn’t put a young woman out in the street in the dead of night.”

“Not if you could put her to bed instead,” Dino said.

“Why are you giving me a hard time about Hilda?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I believe I do. I’ve traversed that terrain before, and I’ve never regretted it.”

“Well, let’s hope she’ll be allowed conjugal visits at Bedford Hills Women’s Prison.”

“Why would she have any need to? She can just come here. By the way, ‘conjugal’ refers to her marital status. I never sleep with married women. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“I know at least three married women you’ve slept with.”

“Well, accidents will happen.”

“The Bureau thinks Hilda’s a contract killer.”

“Yeah? Who, exactly, at the Bureau?”

“Brian Goode.”

“All by himself, I expect.”

“I trust his judgment,” Dino said.

“But not mine.”

“I have more experience with yours.”

“So you trust the word of a boy wonder G-man, instead of your friend and partner of lo these many years.”

“Former partner.”

“I’m smarter now than I was then,” Stone said.

“I could buy that, if you weren’t sleeping with a contract killer.”

“That is an unsubstantiated characterization.”

“The Florida cops think she’s a contract killer, too.”

“So, we have to take the word of out-of-state cops to make good judgments?”

“Only when they’re right. Have they contacted her yet?”

“This morning.”

“What did she tell them?”

“Nothing they didn’t already know from her previous statement.”

“Did they read her her rights?”

“Not yet. I’ve told her that if they contact her again, she should say that she has nothing to add to her previous statement, and that she won’t address the issue again without the presence of her attorney.”

“Sounds like she’s talked to a lawyer.”

“I was conveniently located.”

“Stone, why, in the face of all the evidence, do you refuse to believe that she’s a hit person?”

“All what evidence?”

“Well...”

“Aha! There isn’t any, is there?”

“There’s no evidence to the contrary, either.”

“Wrong. She has three witnesses who saw her leave the house with Manny Fiore still alive inside.”

“And who would they be?”

“The two moving men who carted her stuff to storage, and the cabdriver who took her to the airport.”

“That’s their opinion?”

“It’s a fact, not an opinion. And who does your G-man and the Florida cops think set the house on fire after they left?”

“An arsonist.”

“Good guess!” Stone cried.

“A professional arsonist. One of those people Jimmy Breslin used to say earns their living by ‘building vacant lots.’ ”

“And when did this putative arsonist go to work?”

“He chose an appropriate moment.”

“Try telling that to a jury sometime. They’ll acquit before the coffee has dried on your upper lip.”

Dino licked his lips. “All right,” he said, “I’ll await further developments before I make up my mind on her guilt or innocence.”

Stone held up a cautionary finger. “I never said she was innocent.”

“She’s either guilty or innocent,” Dino said.

“Not necessarily. There’s an area in between.”

“What area?”

“Ah... knowing . That’s it, she’s knowing.”

“That must come in handy.”

“What else would you expect of a bright young woman?”

“Guilt or innocence?”

“Then once again, I choose innocence.”

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Dino said, then hung up.

Joan came in and placed an envelope on his desk. “I found this on your desk this morning,” she said. “It appears to have been there about ten days, unopened.”