New York Dead

by Stuart Woods

“I wanted to hear it all. Anyway, you were in no trouble; I wasn’t going to let him carve you up.”

  “I wish I’d known that. He gave me about the worst hour of my life.”

  Dino picked up the phone on the coffee table. “I guess I’d better call it in.”

  “No!” Stone said, snatching the phone away from him.

  “Look, Stone, I’m beat. Between screwing Mary Ann twice a day and shooting craps all night every night, I’m coming apart. Let’s get this over with.”

  “You can’t call it in, yet. We still don’t have the guy who tossed Sasha off the balcony, and, if he finds out Sasha’s dead, he’ll feel safe.”

  “It’s Harkness, then?”

  “Damn right, and, if you’d done what I asked you to at the airport, we might have had him long ago.”

  “Come on, Stone, his name was on the manifest; let’s not go over old stuff again, okay?”

  “All right, let’s not. But tomorrow night, Hi Barker is going to have Harkness on his TV show, and I mean to see him nailed, right there on television. I want you to be there to bust him.”

  Dino thought for a minute. “I gotta cover my ass some way, here, in this place.”

  “Do this: seal the place, and put a blue-and-white outside to make sure nobody disturbs the scene.”

  “Not until I get the medical examiner in here. We can’t just let Van Fleet’s corpse rot for a couple days, you know.”

  “Look, we have no solid evidence against Harkness, and, unless Barker can force some admission out of him on the air, we’ll never get him. If somebody in the ME’s office leaks this to the press, we’re cooked; we’ll never get him.”

  “Too bad you pissed off Van Fleet when you were on the table in there. He might have given us Harkness.”

  “He might have given us Harkness anyway, if you hadn’t blown him away.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch the ritual slaughter? Shout ‘freeze!’? What if he didn’t freeze? You’re pretty fucking ungrateful.”

  “Ungrateful? I’ve dragged you kicking and screaming through this whole thing, and now, when you turn up at the last possible minute, like the cavalry, you want gratitude?”

  “That’s the second time I’ve taken out somebody who wanted to kill you, and, come to think of it, you didn’t thank me the first time either!” Dino was standing up now.

  Stone stood up too. “If you’d been a little quicker the first time, I wouldn’t be hobbling around on this knee, and I’d probably still be on the force!”

  “Yeah, instead of a tax-free pension and a big-time law practice! I really did you a fucking disservice, didn’t I? And, now, you got the cabbie killer, you cleared four murders, and you’re going to bring down Barron Harkness – all in one week! It’s a rough life you’re gonna be living, ain’t it, Stone?”

  Stone opened his mouth, then shut it. Then he started to laugh. So did Dino. They sat down again and laughed until they were exhausted.

  “Okay,” Dino said, “you get out of here.” He handed Stone his car keys. “I know a guy in the ME’s office who can keep his mouth shut. I’ll get him to check Van Fleet into the morgue as a John Doe, then I’ll seal this place until Monday morning.”

  “Okay. You meet me tomorrow night at ten forty-five sharp at the Continental Network headquarters building on Seventh Avenue. We’ll go up to the studio control room together. And have a blue-and-white waiting downstairs.”

  They both got up and walked toward the door, passing the dining table where the five mute conversationalists still carried on.

  Dino walked over to Sasha’s corpse and ran the back of a finger along her cheek. “Soft as a baby’s ass,” he said. “I wonder how the son of a bitch did it?”

  Chapter 51

  Stone could not concentrate on the Sunday papers. Oddly, he gave little thought to the events of the night before. What he thought about was the evening ahead and what it might mean to him.

  From the point of view of solving the case, he was unconcerned about proving the guilt of Barron Harkness, but, he was convinced, his future happiness depended upon that proof.

  Throughout his adult life, it had been Stone’s habit to go out with one woman at a time. Some of these affairs had been important – marriage had been discussed, although it had never happened. Others were less important, even unsatisfactory, but he had usually stuck with them for a time, because it was easier.

  But now he was in love, with all that implied; he had not so much as thought of another woman since the moment he had met Cary. She had consumed his body and his mind from the beginning, and, when she had suddenly disappeared from his life, he had clung to the belief that there was a reasonable explanation for her conduct, if he could only know it. Now, on this late-winter Sunday afternoon, with a high wind howling around his house, he sought that explanation and found it.

  From the beginning of their relationship, Cary had urged him to improve his position in life, to leave the police force and practice law. He had steadfastly refused even to consider this. Then, when he had been, in rapid succession, kicked off the force and offered an opportunity by Woodman amp; Weld, he was suddenly in a position to offer her what she wanted. It was at that moment, before he had had a chance to tell her what the future held, that she had returned to Barron Harkness.

  It had always been Harkness, he now believed. When she had told him of her long affair with a married man and had disguised his identity, it was Harkness she was protecting. Then, in despair of Stone’s ever getting anywhere, she had returned to Harkness, and Stone had, himself, made it possible for her to marry him, by making Harkness’s divorce inevitable. Now she had the position and money she coveted, although she still loved Stone. He was certain of that. Why else would she still be sleeping with him?

  All that remained to correct this situation was to put Harkness away for attempted murder. Hounded by publicity, Cary would seek shelter with Stone, who would now have the means to give her the life she wanted. That result was what he wanted of tonight’s events. Dino could have the bust – it was his anyway. All he wanted was Cary, in his life and in his bed, all the time. Tonight, he would go as far as necessary to make that happen.

  Dino was late. There was nothing new about this, but Stone waited impatiently in the lobby of the network building, afraid that Harkness would arrive before Dino did. Dino arrived at eleven, and Stone hustled him into an elevator.

  “Jesus, Dino,” Stone said as the car rose, “I thought that, just this once, you would be on time.”

  “Stone, I made it, didn’t I? Don’t I always make it?”

  “Is there a car downstairs?”

  “They’re ready and waiting, don’t worry.”

  “This is your bust, Dino. I don’t want any of it.”

  “Thanks,” Dino said. “Maybe it’ll help take the curse off the Morgan thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  The elevator doors opened, and an anxious Hi Barker awaited them. “You’re late,” he said, and he was sweating. “Barron just arrived downstairs and is on the way up. Come with me.” He led them to the control room door and ushered them in. “Jimmy,” he said to a man wearing a headset, “these are police officers. I don’t want Harkness to see them.”

  “Don’t worry, Hi,” Jimmy replied. “I’ve got a light on the glass partition that will make a reflection; Harkness won’t be able to see into the control room.”

  “Good,” Barker said. “I’ve got to go and meet him now. Anything else you want to tell me, Stone?”

  Stone shook his head. “If you get into trouble, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. I’ll send you a note.”

  Barker nodded, then fled.

  Stone looked around the control room; it was a smaller, simpler version of the one he had seen months ago at the news division. The executive studios, he had learned, were a couple of sets designed for small-scale interviews, like The Hi Barker Show. The backdrop of the set was simply the New York City skyline, looking south, as see
n from the sixty-fifth floor, their current level. The exterior windows were of non-reflective glass, and the view was spectacular.

  Hi Barker appeared on the set, followed by Barron Harkness and, to Stone’s surprise, Cary. He hadn’t expected her to be here. Harkness looked flushed, and he tripped on the carpeting and nearly fell as he stepped up to the platform where his seat would be.

  “They must have been out somewhere before this,” Dino said. “This is going to be even easier, if he’s a little drunk.”

  Stone nodded. He watched as Harkness sat down and had a microphone clipped to his lapel. Hi Barker was flitting about, putting his guests at ease; Cary was given a folding chair just out of camera range. The whole group was no more than twelve feet from where Stone stood. “You’re sure they can’t see us?” he asked the director.

  “Not a chance,” Jimmy replied. “I checked it out earlier.”

  Two other people, a man and a young woman, came into the control room now and took seats on either side of Jimmy, paying no attention to Stone and Dino. “Ten minutes,” the woman said, looking up at a clock above the row of monitors.

  Stone watched the monitors as cameras were pointed at Barker and Harkness. For a moment, a camera rested on Cary, sending Stone a pang of desire. She looked beautiful and serene in her mink coat.

  “One minute,” the young woman said, jostling Stone from his reverie. He had been fantasizing about life after Barron Harkness.

  “Ten seconds,” she said, then counted down from five. Jimmy pushed a button, and lively music filled the control room.

  The man next to Jimmy leaned into a microphone. “From the executive studios of the Continental Network, high above Manhattan, we bring you the premiere of The Hi Barker Show.”

  A camera moved in on Hi Barker. “Good evening,” he said amiably. “We’re off to a flying start with this new series. Our aim is to bring you guests who don’t often appear on programs like this one, and our guest tonight is one who, although he appears on television five nights a week, rarely talks about himself. I welcome my old friend, Barron Harkness. Good evening, Barron.”

  “Good evening, Hi,” Harkness said, managing a smile. “I’m glad to be here… I think. It’s been a long time since I let myself in for the sort of grilling I ordinarily hand out to others, and I’m not sure I’m looking forward to the experience.”

  Barker laughed. “You’re not trying to get my sympathy, are you, Barron? I think you know how to take care of yourself in a clinch.”

  Smart, Stone thought. Set him up as somebody who can’t be sandbagged on television, then sandbag him. He watched as Barker skillfully put Harkness over the jumps, starting with his early career, and occasionally interjecting a sharp, almost rude question about the newsman’s behavior on some occasion. Harkness fenced well, and he was beginning to relax. Twenty-five minutes of the program passed in this vein, with Barker increasingly pressing Harkness for his personal views on politicians and events. Then Barker paused and sorted through his notes for a moment.

  Now we begin, Stone thought. He leaned forward and grasped the railing in front of him.

  “Barron,” Barker began, “I know you were as shocked as we all were at the disappearance and probable death of Sasha Nijinsky, who was to have been your co-anchor on the evening news.”

  “Yes, I certainly was,” Harkness said, looking a little uncomfortable. He crossed his legs and tugged at the knot of his necktie. “A horrible and tragic event.”

  “You were… elsewhere at the time all this happened, I believe.”

  That’s right, Stone thought, let him set his own trap.

  “Yes, I was. I had been reporting from the Middle East. Not for the first time, I might add – more like the twentieth – and I was returning to New York on a flight from Rome.”

  “I see,” Barker said, looking regretful. “I’m extremely sorry to hear you say that, Barron; I had hoped for a little more candor on this subject.”

  Harkness looked alarmed. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Dino laughed aloud. “Sure, sure, Harkness; go ahead and paint yourself into the corner.”

  Barker shook his head. “Barron, in light of information that has come into my possession, I should warn you now to abandon this pretense.”

  “What pretense?” Harkness asked weakly. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Barron, I have it on the authority of an unimpeachable source that you were not on the flight from Rome that day, that your ticket was used by another person. Tell us, now, Barron, where were you when Sasha Nijinsky was thrown from her balcony?”

  Harkness said nothing for a moment, clearly stunned; then his eyes narrowed and he sat up straight.

  Stone was reminded of a contentious interview with Richard Nixon many years before, when Harkness had gotten angry with good effect. What was he up to?

  “Let me tell you something, Hi,” Harkness said, with tightly controlled ire. “I don’t know who has misinformed you, but I have made that particular flight from Rome six times in the past twelve months, and I’ve gotten to know some of the crew. When that airplane landed at Kennedy, I was sitting in the cockpit jump seat, watching the captain execute an instrument approach. His name is Bob Martinez, he’s a senior captain with the airline, and he will vouch for my presence in his cockpit during that flight.” Harkness took a breath. “What’s more, I was traveling on that occasion in the company of Herman Bateman, the president of Continental Network News, and he will vouch for my presence on that flight. Now, do you have any other questions?”

  Dino leaned forward and looked at Stone. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Shhh,” Stone said. He took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to the director. “Please get this to Hi at once.”

  Jimmy nodded and handed it to the young woman. “Just walk out on camera, and hand it to him.”

  The woman left as Hi Barker continued his questioning.

  “Yes, I do have another question, Barron,” Barker said, not intimidated. “A police source has informed me that when detectives went through Sasha Nijinsky’s financial records, it was discovered that a sum of two million dollars was missing from her funds. Another source has now told me that Sasha had transferred those funds to you for investment, and that they have not been seen since, that you have been unable to return these funds. Would you care to comment on that?”

  “I certainly would,” Harkness said, not missing a beat. “It is true that Sasha asked me to invest such a sum for her; she had considerable faith in my financial judgment. In January of last year, she gave me a cashier’s check for two million dollars made payable to an offshore bank with which I sometimes invest. In the autumn of last year, she asked me to withdraw her cash in the investment, so that she could purchase a cooperative apartment. I did, in fact, receive into my account on the day Sasha disappeared the full amount of her investment, plus a considerable profit. The following day, not knowing of Sasha’s whereabouts or condition, I personally delivered a cashier’s check in the amount of two million, four hundred and thirty-nine thousand dollars to Mr. Frank Woodman, Sasha’s personal attorney.”

  Before Harkness had finished speaking, Stone was dialing Frank Woodman’s home number.

  “Hello?”

  “Frank, it’s Stone; I must be brief – are you watching The Hi Barker Show, by any chance?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Is what Harkness just said true? Did he deliver those funds to you?”

  “Yes, he did. They were disbursed as a part of Sasha’s estate.”

  “Thanks.” He hung up and watched as the young woman walked onto the set and handed Barker the unfolded sheet of paper. Last chance.

  Barker read the paper, and his eyebrows shot up. “Barron,” he said, “I have just received a news bulletin, and I wonder if you would like to modify any of your statements in the light of this.” He read from the paper
. “The New York City Police Department has just announced that Sasha Nijinsky has been found in a downtown Manhattan loft, alive and well.’ That’s all it says. What is your response?”

  Barron Harkness smiled. “Why, that’s wonderful news! Is there anything about where she’s been?”

  “No, but clearly Sasha will now be able to identify the person who threw her from that balcony to the street.”

  Stone missed Harkness’s response to this, because his attention had been caught by a movement near the set. Cary Hilliard had stood up. Her eyes as wide as those of a frightened deer, she stood still for a moment, then walked quickly across the set, directly in front of the cameras. Barker and Harkness, distracted by the movement, both turned and watched her. The director pushed a button, and the show’s theme music came up again.

  The announcer spoke up. “This has been the first Hi Barker Show. Tune in next Sunday night when Hi’s guest will be…”

  Stone burst out of the control room and ran for the elevators. Cary was banging on the button as he approached, and, when she saw him, she bolted.

  “ Cary!” he shouted down the length of the hallway. “Stop! Wait!”

  She ducked down another corridor, out of his sight. He followed and was met with an expanse of closed doors. He began trying them.

  A dozen doors down the hall, one was unlocked. He opened it and heard the clang of footsteps on fire stairs. He stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall. The memory of another set of steel stairs in another building flooded back to him. Now he knew whose footsteps those had been.

  He started down, only to realize that the sound of footsteps was coming from above. He reversed his direction and followed the sound.

  One floor up, the exit door stood open, and he found himself on a gravel roof. A gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet. He grabbed at a ventilator pipe and held on. The view was all the more spectacular because there was nothing between him and the lights of the city but blustery air. Twenty feet away, only the modern building’s low railing separated him from the lights. He looked around and saw a flash of mink coat disappear behind an air-conditioning unit. He followed.