by Stuart Woods
“This is Detective Simmons,” Deacon said. “We’re investigating the murder of Susan Bean.”
“I believe that’s being handled at the Nineteenth Precinct,” Stone said.
“Our investigation supersedes theirs,” Deacon replied.
“Lieutenant Bacchetti will be very surprised to hear that.”
“I don’t much care what surprises Bacchetti,” Deacon said. “I have some questions for you, and you’d better give me straight answers.”
“Listen, Deacon,” Stone said. “If you want my cooperation, you’re going about it in the wrong way. First, you wake me up at the crack of dawn, then you come into my house and encroach on a police investigation while behaving like the Gestapo. If you want to talk to me about anything, you’d better start acquiring some social graces.”
The two men stared at each other across the desk for a long moment. Finally, Deacon spoke.
“Mr. Barrington, I apologize for our intrusion at such an early hour this morning. An important official in the District Attorney’s Office has been murdered, and we would be very grateful if you would answer some questions for us in order to give us a clearer idea of what happened that evening.”
Stone threw a leg over the saddle and climbed down from his high horse. “I’d be happy to help in any way I can,” he said.
“Thank you. Could you give us an account of your actions on the night in question from the time you left your home?”
“Of course. I left my house around eight-thirty that evening and took a cab to Elaine’s, on Second Avenue between Eighty-eighth and Eighty-ninth Streets. I met Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti there for dinner. Later in the evening, sometime after ten-thirty, I believe, Lieutenant Bacchetti suggested that we attend a party at the home of Martin Brougham. We arrived there around ten-forty-five, I believe. After being introduced to our hosts, I took a drink into the library and there found Susan Bean. We conversed for a few minutes, then we agreed to go out for a late supper. Since most of the neighborhood restaurants seemed to be closed or closing, Ms. Bean suggested that we go to her house and order Chinese food to be delivered. On telephoning the restaurant, we learned that delivery was unavailable, and Ms. Bean asked if I would go there and pick up the food. I did so. When I returned, I found Ms. Bean lying on the kitchen floor; she was dead. I called nine-one-one and reported the murder, then waited for the police to arrive.”
Simmons was taking notes furiously.
“You said you met Lieutenant Bacchetti for dinner, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“But then, a couple of hours later, you were going to have Chinese food with Ms. Bean?”
“I wasn’t very hungry when I met Lieutenant Bacchetti at Elaine’s, and I only had a salad.”
“I see,” Deacon said, as if he didn’t see at all. He nodded to Simmons to take note of this discrepancy.
Stone rolled his eyes and sighed.
“When and where did you first become acquainted with Susan Bean?” Deacon asked.
“On that evening, at the home of Martin Brougham.”
“Had you ever met her before that?”
“No.”
“Had you ever heard of her?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“As an attorney, you sometimes try cases in criminal court?”
“I do.”
“Have you never dealt with Ms. Bean in your capacity as an attorney?”
“No.”
“Some years ago, shortly after you left the police force and began practicing law, you represented a man named Marvin Herbert Van Fleet.”
“I did.”
“Do you recall who the opposing counsel was?”
“I believe it was Paul Haverty.”
“Do you recall who his second chair was?”
“No. I mean, it was a young woman; I don’t recall her name.” Stone blinked. “Was that Susan Bean?”
“You remember now?”
“I remember a rather plump, plain young woman who rarely spoke, at least, to me.”
“That was Susan Bean.”
“Really? She’d changed a lot by the time I met her at Brougham’s house.”
“So you were acquainted with Ms. Bean?”
“I was introduced to her, I suppose.”
“On how many occasions did you see her socially after meeting her in court?”
“None.”
“I ask you again, Mr. Barrington: on how many occasions?”
“None whatever.”
“You are an habitué of Elaine’s restaurant, are you not?”
“I’m in there a couple of times a week.”
“For how long?”
“For many years.”
“Have you forgotten that Susan Bean was also an habitué of Elaine’s?”
“I was never aware of that.”
“You have no recollection of seeing her there?”
“None.” Stone began to wonder where this was going.
“On at least one occasion, you picked her up at the bar at Elaine’s, took her home, and had sex with her, did you not?”
Stone was brought up short by the question. He racked his brain for any memory of such an incident. He had, he knew, met women at Elaine’s, and sometimes those meetings had resulted in sex, but that had not happened for a long time, not since he had left the police force. “I have no recollection of such an incident,” Stone said.
“Would it surprise you to learn that Susan Bean remembered such an incident?”
“It certainly would. When was this supposed to have occurred?”
“Do you have any recollection of meeting a woman named Jean Martinelli at Elaine’s?”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Ms. Martinelli also works for the District Attorney’s Office, and she was also an habitué of Elaine’s, often in the company of Susan Bean. She recalls meeting you there on several occasions. She recalls your leaving the restaurant in the company of Ms. Bean, and she recalls being told by Ms. Bean the following day that the two of you had gone to her apartment and had sex. Do you deny that this occurred?”
“I have no recollection of any of this,” Stone said. “How long ago was this supposed to have happened?”
“That’s not relevant,” Deacon said.
“Relevant to what?”
“Relevant to the murder of Susan Bean.”
“I should think it would be very relevant,” Stone replied.
“Let’s say that the incident in question occurred before the Van Fleet legal matter.”
“Then you’re talking of more than six years ago?”
“Approximately.”
“And how does this alleged incident relate to the murder of Susan Bean?”
“If it’s not relevant, Mr. Barrington, why have you been lying to us?”
“I haven’t lied to you,” Stone replied, with some heat. “You’ve made an allegation that I had some prior relationship with Susan Bean, however brief, some years ago. I’ve told you that I have no recollection of such a relationship, and that’s the truth.”
“When you began speaking with Ms. Bean in Martin Brougham’s library, you were renewing an old acquaintance, weren’t you, Mr. Barrington?”
“I had no reason to think so.”
“In fact, when you introduced yourself to Susan Bean, she told you that you had met before, didn’t she?”
“She did not. She indicated nothing of the sort.”
“Describe your conversation with her.”
Stone tried to remember. “She was reading something when I sat down; we talked about that, I think. We talked about her name, Bean, I remember. She told me that she had assisted Martin Brougham on the Dante trial, and I congratulated her on the verdict. That’s about all I recall.”
“And what did you talk about on the way to her apartment?”
“It was just idle conversation; it didn’t seem to have any particular point.”
“Did you talk about her work?”
“I suppose so, in passing.”
“Did she tell you anything about her work?”
“I remember getting the impression that she was thinking of leaving her job.”
“What did she say that gave you that impression?”
“I don’t remember, exactly; she seemed tired of the work, I thought. She didn’t seem elated about the Dante verdict.”
“You’re aware that she went to a party celebrating that verdict?”
“Yes.”
“And you say she wasn’t happy about the verdict?”
“I recall that, at the party, she was alone in another room, reading, rather than taking part in a celebration. And I didn’t say she was unhappy about the verdict, merely that she was not elated.”
“Something I don’t understand, Mr. Barrington.”
“What’s that?”
“Why would you want to murder a woman you say you hadn’t seen for more than five years?”
Stone sat up straight. “I did not murder Susan Bean, and I had no motive to do so.” He looked at Simmons, who was still taking notes. “Write that down, please.”
“I’m writing it down,” Simmons replied.
Stone stood up. “I think that will be all,” he said to Deacon.
“I’m sorry you’re reluctant to answer my questions, Mr. Barrington,” Deacon said.
“On the contrary,” Stone replied, “I want it noted for the record that I have answered all your questions. For further information about the events surrounding the death of Susan Bean, I refer you to the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct. I have given a full statement to them. As for any further questions to me, I refer you to my attorney, William Eggers, of Woodman and Weld. Good day.”
Deacon got to his feet. “Woodman and Weld? Very elegant firm. I don’t suppose they’re going to be pleased about being involved in this mess.”
“I said good day,” Stone replied, opening the door and letting them out. He had to resist the impulse to plant his foot in Thomas Deacon’s ass as he departed.
17
S TONE LEFT HIS HOUSE AND WALKED UP the block to where an unmarked police car was parked. He got in. “Are Anderson and Kelly in another car around here?”
“Yeah,” the driver replied.
“Can you reach them without using the radio?”
“I can call them on their cell phone,” the cop said.
“Please.”
The cop dialed the number, then handed the phone to Stone.
“Anderson,” a voice said.
“Andy, it’s Stone. I’m in the other car now.”
“I saw you.”
“We’re going to drive away; after we’ve been gone two minutes, please ring my doorbell three times. Miss Buckminster will come out, and you can drive her to Elaine’s. You know where that is?”
“I used to drive Lieutenant Bacchetti,” Anderson replied.
“Make sure you’re not followed.”
“Right.”
Stone broke the connection, then handed the phone back to the cop. “All right, we’re headed for Second Avenue between Eighty-eighth and Eighty-ninth. Don’t go direct; I’ll watch our tail.”
“Right,” the cop said, putting the car into gear. “You want me to use the light?”
“Let’s be inconspicuous,” Stone said.
They drove down to Third Avenue and turned up-town, while Stone watched every car behind them. “Go over to Park, then back to Third,” he told the detective.
“Whatever you say,” the bored detective replied.
They spent half an hour reaching Elaine’s. Just before they arrived, Stone called Anderson again.
“Anderson.”
“Andy, when you’ve dropped off Miss Buckminster, please come into the restaurant and take up a position at the bar, near the window. You know what the perp looks like, don’t you?”
“I didn’t get much of a look at him last night,” Anderson replied, “but I’ve got the description.”
“Keep an eye peeled for him.”
“Will do.”
The car stopped. “You guys watch the block for a guy matching the description,” Stone said.
“Right,” the detectives replied.
Stone got out and went inside. He gave Elaine a kiss, then joined Dino at their usual table.
“Sarah coming?” Dino asked.
“She’ll be here in a minute; Anderson is bringing her. Anything happen today?”
“We checked with the Hamburg police for the whereabouts of Mitteldorfer’s nephew, Ernst Hausman. They checked his home address and the cigarette factory; he was at work today. Hasn’t had a day off in more than a month.”
“What about the check of Mitteldorfer’s old neighborhood? Turn up anything?”
“Half a dozen of the older residents remembered Mitteldorfer, but they didn’t know anything about relatives. As far as they knew, Herbie and his wife were childless.”
“Did they talk to Herbie’s correspondent? What was her name?”
“Eloise Enzberg. Yeah, this morning. Frightened her, it seems. She didn’t know anything; she just writes to Herbie once a week and visits him once a month. Takes him strudel.”
“How gemütlich.”
“If you say so. You know, Germantown isn’t what it used to be.”
“What is?”
“I mean, there’s not so many Germans anymore, just some old people. I guess their kids moved away. You remember the Gay Vienna restaurant?”
“Sure, the one with the kalbshax.”
“The veal shank that looked like a giant drumstick.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“And they had a zither player. I liked the zither music. Where was that place, exactly?”
“You’re sitting in it,” Dino said.
“It was here?”
“It finally closed, then Elaine bought the building and opened up.”
“I’ll be damned; I never connected the two.”
“I guess all the kalbshax lovers died or moved away.” Dino sighed.
Elaine came and sat down. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad,” Stone replied. “Say, do you think you could put kalbshax on the menu?”
“What’re you, some kind of Kraut?” Elaine asked.
Sarah bustled in, followed closely by Andy Anderson, who took up his position at the bar.
Dino grabbed a waiter. “See the tall guy at the bar by the window? Tell the bartender to give him one scotch, no refills.” The waiter went off to do Dino’s bidding.
Stone and Dino stood up to welcome Sarah; she rewarded Dino with a kiss on the cheek. “Elaine,” Stone said, “you remember Sarah Buckminster, don’t you?”
“Sure; long time,” Elaine said. She turned to Dino. “I heard about last night,” she said.
“How the hell did you hear about that?” Dino demanded. “It hasn’t been in the papers.”
“I got my sources,” Elaine replied.
“Yeah, you probably know more about the case than I do.”
“I probably do.”
“Maybe you can tell me where to find the perp?”
Elaine leaned over, and whispered conspiratorially, “Try Central Park.”
“I had a visit from one Tom Deacon today,” Stone said.
“What the fuck did he want?” Dino asked.
“He’s apparently taking over your case.”
“He should live so long,” Dino snorted.
“He questioned me at some length, while his partner took notes, then he accused me of murdering Susan Bean.”
“Who’s Susan Bean?” Sarah asked.
“A dead person,” Elaine explained.
“Why did you murder her?” Sarah asked Stone.
“Oh, just for the hell of it,” Stone said. “I murder two or three women a month, if I’m not too busy.”
Sarah turned to Elaine. “You think I should move out?”
“I didn’t know you’d moved in,” Elaine rep
lied. “It’s nice that Stone can get laid again.”
Sarah burst out laughing. “Has it been a while?”
“Oh, yeah,” Elaine said. “I can’t tell you what a pain in the ass he’s been.”
“I have not,” Stone protested.
“He’s kinda got that glow again, you know?” Elaine said to Dino.
“Yeah,” Dino replied, “he’s all pink in the cheeks again.”
“I’d like to think I’m the only person here who’s seen his cheeks,” Sarah said, “and they’re really quite a lovely shade of pink.”
“So are yours,” Stone said, clinking her glass with his.
“Why do you think Deacon is poking his nose in?” Dino asked.
“Wouldn’t you think Martin Brougham was behind it? After all, Susan was one of their own.”
“That’s not a good enough excuse,” Dino said.
“He told me that Susan used to be a regular here, at the bar. Did you know her, Elaine?”
Elaine shrugged. “Who can keep track of all those people at the bar? They come, they go, they get murdered.”
“She was friends with a woman named Jean Martinelli.”
“Her I know,” Elaine said. “I threw her out of here when she used to get drunk and start annoying people at the tables.”
“She apparently works at the DA’s Office, too,” Stone said. “Deacon seems convinced that I knew Susan before the other night, that I’d seen a lot of her in here. I told him I had no memory of her.”
“She used to be fat,” Dino said.
“You knew her before, then?”
“I testified in trials that she was prosecuting—two or three times, I think. She lost a hell of a lot of weight and started doing things to herself, you know? Maybe that’s why you don’t remember her.”
“Remember Van Fleet?” Stone asked.
“I believe I shot him dead,” Dino said. “How could I forget?”
“Well, I defended Van Fleet on some minor charge, once, and Deacon said Susan was assisting the prosecutor, a guy named Haverty.”
“Could be,” Dino said. “I think she was in the DA’s Office since she got out of law school.”
“You think you could give Brougham a ring and tell him I didn’t murder Susan?”
