“The same. And some of the drawers had been pulled out.”
“Which drawers?”
“The ones with my drawers in them.”
“Did your visitor leave any, ah, message?”
“You mean like the semen on my drawers?”
“Exactly.”
“You could say he made his presence known.”
“How do you know it was semen?”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, Stone.”
“All right, all right. What did you do?”
“I grabbed a few things, and we got the hell out of there.”
“What did you do with the semen stains?”
“Do with them? Yuck!”
“I mean, are they still there?”
“Well, I wanted to put the garments in question in the garbage, but Joan stopped me.”
“Good,” Stone said, picking up the phone. “That’s evidence. I’ll get Dino to send somebody over there.”
“They’d better come here first and get my key.”
“Right.” Stone started dialing.
39
Dink Brennan was playing some one-on-one in the fenced-in exercise court of his unit with Otto, the large man who was his watchdog and only companion. Dink let him score, and then they sat down at a picnic table nearby to cool off.
“You’re doing okay, Dink,” Otto said. “I’m proud of you.”
“It’s important to me to do well here,” Dink replied. “And I want to thank you for helping me.”
“That’s my job,” Otto said.
“Tell me about you, Otto. You married? Kids?”
“Married fifteen years, a thirteen-year-old daughter.”
“What’s her name?”
“The wife is Betty, the daughter is Caroline. She’s something, Caroline-smartest kid you ever saw. Won a scholarship to Choate Rosemary Hall!”
“Funny, I went there,” Dink said. “Good thing she won a scholarship. It’s an expensive school.”
“Well, the scholarship pays only half. I’ve got to come up with the rest.”
“Jeez, that’s what, twenty grand?”
“Twenty-one,” Otto said. “I can manage the one. Betty wants to get a job to help, but she’s not well-really bad asthma.”
“Do me a favor, Otto,” Dink said. “Let me use your cell phone.”
“What for?” Otto said. “And you’re not allowed to have a cell phone. I’d get in trouble.”
“Okay, you dial a number for me. Don’t worry, it’s just my bank-you won’t get into trouble.”
Otto picked up his jacket and came up with his phone.
Dink gave Otto the number. “What’s your last name?”
“Krieger.” Otto tapped in the number and listened. “Whaddaya know?” he said. “It’s your bank.” He handed Dink the phone.
“Lora Trenkle, please,” Dink said. “Hello, Lora? Dink Brennan. Just fine. I assume you’ve made the necessary adjustments to my accounts since I have access to my trust. Good. I’d like to send a wire transfer to the bursar at Choate Rosemary Hall School. You’ll have to call them for the account information. Twenty-one thousand, for the tuition of Caroline Krieger. Can you still get that out today? Great, and please deposit one hundred thousand from my trust into my checking account. Thanks so much.” Dink handed the phone back to Otto. “Done.”
Otto stared at him in disbelief. “That was a joke, right?”
“Call the bursar in an hour,” Dink said.
“Dink, why would you do that?”
“It is for a worthy cause. Caroline sounds like a great kid.”
“I’m overwhelmed,” Otto said. He looked at Dink suspiciously. “You want something from me?”
Dink got up and grabbed the basketball. “Just another game. I’ll spot you two points.” He threw the ball to Otto.
During the next few days, Otto became Dink’s manservant. He brought burgers from a fast-food place, books from the library-self-help books, mostly. He couldn’t do enough.
“I’ve spoken to the director,” Otto said one day, “and told him I think you should be returned to your old quarters. I talked to Dr. Morton, too, and he seemed to agree with me. It’ll probably be tomorrow. I’ll get your things out of storage.”
“Gee, thanks, Otto,” Dink said.
The following day, Dink walked into his old room and found his civilian clothes on his bed and an envelope containing his wallet. There were no credit cards, of course-Herb Fisher had cut those in half-but his driver’s license was there, and a little over a hundred dollars. The next morning, Dink was having coffee with Otto in the rec room. “There’s a terrific movie on in town,” he said. “I saw it in the local paper. I hear the management allows trips to the village. Why don’t we go this afternoon?”
“They’ll sometimes let us take a day trip,” Otto said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He left and walked toward the administrative offices, then returned ten minutes later. “We’re on,” he said. “Starts at two-thirty.”
Otto drove Dink into the village and parked on Main Street. The theater was two buildings from the corner gas station, as Dink had remembered. Otto bought him a ticket, and they went inside. Twenty minutes into the feature, Dink grabbed his gut and made a grunting sound. “I’ve got to go to the john,” he whispered to Otto.
“Okay.”
Dink left the theater and walked quickly down to the gas station, where he found the owner reading a newspaper. “Hi,” Dink said. “My name’s Brennan. You’ve got my car stored here.”
“Right,” the man said. “Can I see some ID?”
Dink showed him his driver’s license.
“Take me a minute,” the man said. “I gassed it up when it came in.” Ten minutes later, the man was back with Dink’s BMW convertible. “You’re all paid up,” the man said, handing him the keys.
Dink gave him a twenty and pulled out of the station. It felt good to be out and behind the wheel. He headed for New Haven. He drove to his dorm and found the custodian.
“Hi, Paul. Can you let me into my room? I’ve lost the key.”
“Hey, Mr. Brennan. The boss said you’d left school, so I boxed up your stuff.”
“I’ll save you the trouble of getting rid of it,” Dink said.
The man unlocked the door. “There’s some mail, too. It’s on your desk, and there’s a package.”
Dink had thought there might be mail. He riffled through the envelopes and found three he wanted. They contained the new credit cards and an ATM card that Parker Mosely had ordered to replace the ones Herb Fisher had destroyed.
Then he turned his attention to the larger package. He opened it with a box cutter. Inside was a beautiful leather briefcase, one that matched his luggage. He opened the case and found a card inside: “Happy Birthday! You’re a man now. Love, Dad.” The old man didn ’ t forget, he thought. How about that?
He packed his suitcases with some clothes, then he found his passport and checkbook in a desk drawer and put them into the briefcase with his Mac Air. He carried the cases out to his car, stowed them in the trunk, and headed for New York City. Once in the city he visited the Apple store and bought a new iPhone. His old one had disappeared. His first call was to the Lowell, a small, elegant hotel on East Sixty-third Street, near Madison. He
