Shakeup (Stone Barrington #55) - Stuart Woods Page 0,2

surgical scrubs.

“I assume the victim is the horizontal one,” the man said.

Deb Myers smirked at him. “Dr. Steinberg, Dino Bacchetti, commissioner NYPD, his wife, Vivian, and Stone Barrington, who tripped over the body.”

“Not quite,” Stone said, shaking the man’s hand.

Steinberg knelt beside the body, felt for a pulse at throat and wrist, listened to her chest, then held a small mirror under her nose, to see if it fogged. He produced an anal thermometer and did his work, then he produced a small recorder. “Victim is a white female, aged forty to fifty, expensively dressed with corresponding jewelry. She’s unresponsive and presumed deceased. Preliminary cause of death, strangulation. Time of death between one PM and three PM.”

Another knock at the door. This time it was two detectives, both thirtyish.

“Just in time, gentlemen,” Steinberg said. “She’s dead. Do your thing.”

* * *

—

Forty minutes later, the detectives had questioned everybody and made way for a crime scene investigator, who worked the scene. “Preliminary observation,” he said, “she entered the suite either by admission or with a key, walked across the living room and met the assailant, who strangled her to death. She probably knew him, since her blouse was pulled out of her skirt and a couple of buttons were undone.”

He left, right behind the corpse, and so did everybody else, but Stone, the Bacchettis, Deb Myers, and Valentino, which was how Stone had come to think of the large policeman.

“Shall I wait outside the door, Chief?” Valentino asked her.

“No, Rocco, you’d just attract too much attention,” Myers replied. “Just sit down over there, while these nice people buy me a drink.” She collapsed on a sofa. “Scotch, please,” she said to nobody in particular. “I’m officially off duty now, if anybody cares.”

Stone dealt with booze for everybody, then sat down himself. “Man oh man,” Myers said, taking a swig. “As if I didn’t have enough to do today. Now I have to go home and dress for four balls.”

“I’m going to four, too,” Stone said, “but I’m only dressing for one.”

“Lucky you.”

“Question, Chief,” Stone said. “Do you know the victim?”

She looked at him sharply. “How did you know that?”

“Something in the way you dealt with her. Dino taught me that.”

“She’s Patricia Clark, Pat. Her husband is Donald—Don—big business guy, who’s about to be the new secretary of commerce.”

“I hope you won’t need to tell that to our new president before tomorrow morning. It might ruin her evening.”

“Well, I’m going to have to tell the victim’s husband, and he might want to tell the boss. I’ll suggest he call in sick.”

“Is he a suspect?” Stone asked.

“They were planning a divorce, just as soon as he was confirmed by the Senate. That is conveniently unnecessary, now.”

“Oops.”

“Does anybody here know Don Clark?” Deb asked. Heads were shaken.

“Then what was his wife doing in your hotel suite? Who has keys?”

“The three of us. Ah, one other,” Stone said. “I think you can exclude her from your investigation, since I left her to come here, and she couldn’t have gotten here first.”

“Name?” Myers asked.

“For the present, unavailable,” Stone said.

“Where were you, Stone, between one and three?”

“Having tea at the White House with the Lees, then at the inauguration.”

She picked up her large handbag, rummaged through it and came out with an envelope, which held a photograph. She handed it to him. “See anybody you know?” She asked.

Stone looked at the photograph of Holly at the podium, delivering her address. Over her shoulder, he could see himself. He held it up. “That’s me.”

“How about the two people right behind you?”

Stone looked at them. “I don’t know them, so this is just a guess: Donald and Patricia Clark?”

“Bingo.”

“I was never introduced to them, and I didn’t see them at the luncheon for, among others, the new cabinet, at the White House.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Deb asked.

“I expect you to, once you’ve run down the speech and figured out the exact time this was taken.”

“Okay, Stone. You’re no longer a suspect. Still, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Dino spoke. “You’re right. The name he has refused to speak is that of our new president. He’s her date for today and tonight.”

“Oh,” Deb said, and polished off her drink.

“Well, Deb,” Stone said. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have a nap. I’d be grateful if you’d try not to ruin the president’s evening.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Deb said, rising. In a moment, she was gone, followed closely by Valentino.

3

Stone, Viv, and Dino were driven