36
Stone was stonily silent in the car on the way home, and Meg didn’t disturb him. Back at the house they undressed and Stone came to bed wearing a nightshirt, while Meg was naked, as usual.
“That’s amusing,” she said, nodding at the nightshirt.
“You are easily amused,” Stone replied. “You’ve been amused all evening by Dino, who was, as usual, very amusing.”
“You thought I was serious about suspecting you of murder?”
“Were you not?”
“I was not, but perhaps I should revise my opinion.”
“Which is?”
“There you go—I was trying to amuse you, and you took it the wrong way, of course.”
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?”
“You’ve been intent all night on taking everything I said the wrong way.”
“I suppose I had trouble discerning between your speaking the wrong way and your speaking the right way,” Stone said.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that I would never suspect you of murder?”
“No, it has not, given the circumstances, and Dino had trouble coming down on the right side of that question, as well.”
“Are you mad at me or mad at Dino?”
“Can’t I be annoyed with you both, simultaneously?”
“It’s very unattractive when you are.”
“I plead guilty to being unattractive, but not to murder.”
Meg got out of bed, went to her dressing room, and came back wearing a nightgown. “Good night,” she said, climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, and turning on her side, away from Stone.
“Sleep well,” Stone grumbled. It seemed to him that Meg fell asleep immediately, which made him even angrier. He got very little sleep that night.
STONE WOKE from a fitful sleep with sunlight streaming through a window where he had forgotten to close the curtains. He reached for Meg but found Bob instead, his tail thumping against the bed. Stone could hear Meg’s shower running. He rang Helene and ordered breakfast, then found the Times where it had been slid under the door and got back into bed, switching on Morning Joe, and pressed the remote control that sat him up and pointed him at the TV.
Meg came out of the bathroom in a terry robe, toweling her hair.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
“I ordered breakfast for us.”
“I’m not very hungry.”
“That’s what you said last night and you ate a steak, then some of mine.”
“Do you think I’m getting fat?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen your body for about thirty-six hours.”
She whipped off the robe and posed for him. “There, dear, is that better?”
Stone looked up from his paper. “You’re not getting fat,” he said.
“I’m so relieved.”
Breakfast came and they both ate everything on the tray.
“Now I’m getting fat,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Are we still angry with each other?” she asked.
“I’m not angry,” Stone replied. “I’m disappointed.”
“Disappointed in me?”
“I don’t know what you want,” he said. “I’ve kept you from being shot twice, I’ve recovered half a billion dollars of computer files, and kept those files from being sold to a notorious arms dealer who could have sold them to anybody. Oh, and I murdered the man who ordered you killed. Is that not enough?”
“You murdered Bellini?” she asked, horrified.
“Of course not, that was a joke.”
“It wasn’t very funny.”
“Funny, I thought it was.”
“I didn’t think it was funny, and I have a great sense of humor.”
“That’s what people with no sense of humor always say.”
She sighed. “I’m tired of this,” she said.
“We have that in common, if little else.”
“Stone, I am no longer comfortable with this contentiousness.”
“Then may I suggest, in the kindest possible way, that you not put up with it anymore and conduct your search for an apartment from a hotel? I’ll have Fred drive you to any one you like.”
She threw off the covers and marched into the bathroom. The hair dryer could be heard for a while, and it was followed by the sounds of suitcases being opened, packed, and closed again.
Stone buzzed Fred and asked him to get the car ready and to come and get her luggage. “Then take Ms. Harmon wherever she likes,” he said, and hung up.
Fred knocked on the door just as she was leaving the dressing room, fully dressed.
“Come in,” he shouted.
Fred came in. “Yessir?”
“Her luggage is in the dressing room.”
Fred collected the bags and took them downstairs.
“Well,” she said.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Stone said.
“So do I,” she said, walking out of the room and slamming the door.
“I meant an apartment!” he shouted after her. He muted Joe Scarborough’s daily rant about small government, then went back to his Times.
AN HOUR LATER, as Stone was getting dressed after his shower, the phone buzzed. “Yes?”
“There are two homicide detectives down here,” Joan said, “and they want to see you.”
“Tell them to go—”
“No, no, no!” Joan said. “I’m not telling them that; they might arrest me.”
“Have they shown you an arrest warrant?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Tell them I’ll be right down.” He knotted his tie and slipped on his jacket.
“GOOD MORNING, gentlemen,” he said, walking into his office to find the two men on his office sofa, drinking his coffee. “How can I help you?”
“Good morning, Mr. Barrington,” one of them said. “We’d like to ask you some questions about a couple of corpses on Park Avenue.”
Stone refreshed their coffee cups. “Get out your notebooks, gentlemen,” he said, “and your recording devices.”
They did so, and Stone launched into an account of his every moment since meeting Meg Harmon in Key West, covering every detail of his visit to Gino Bellini’s apartment and the events taking place there. An hour later he went to his desk, took out Bellini’s pistol, and handed it to one of them. “Do you have any questions?”
The two men looked at each other. “I don’t believe so,” one of them said, tucking away his recording device. “We’ll call you if anything comes up.” They shook hands with him and left.
Five minutes later, Joan buzzed him. “Dino, on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “What?”
“Were you nice to my detectives?” Dino asked.
“I gave them coffee and bored them rigid for an hour,” Stone replied.
“Are you still pissed off about last night?”
“Certainly.”
“Did you take it out on Meg?”
“Probably.”
“Can I speak to her to ascertain whether she’s still alive?”
“If you can find out what hotel she’s staying in.”
“And how would I do that?”
“Start with The Pierre and work your way down.”
“Dinner tonight?”
“Will Viv be there?”
“No, she’s still in California.”
“Call me when she gets back. I’ll need someone to talk with over dinner.”
“Have a nice day,” Dino said, then hung up.