“I told them that, but they were skeptical.”
Joan opened a desk drawer and pulled out a paper band. “There was one of these on each hundred-thousand- dollar bundle,” she said.
Stone took the band. “That will do nicely.” He returned to his office and handed the band to an agent. “There was one of these around each hundred-thousand-dollar bundle of hundreds,” he said. “The name of the bank is printed upon it. Will that do?”
“Yes, I believe it will,” the agent said, reading the name of the bank.
“Then I wish you well in your inquiries,” Stone said, rising and offering his hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Barrington,” the man said, then turned to go.
“I would certainly like to know how all this comes out,” Stone said. “If you have a moment to call.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t reveal information relating to a case,” he said, and then, with his companion, he left.
Stone buzzed Joan.
“Yes?”
“What was the exact amount of the deposit you made?”
“One million dollars.”
“Is that on the deposit receipt?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Is the receipt stamped and dated?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Did you watch the teller count the money?”
“I watched her put it into a counting machine,” Joan said.
“And she didn’t mention an extra fifty dollars in the stack?”
“She did not.”
Stone hung up, baffled.
13
Stone was in his dressing room when Felicity walked in, holding her shoes in her hand. She offered him her lips, and he accepted. “Your feet are tired?” he asked.
“I no longer have feet,” she replied, going into the bedroom. “I’m walking on stumps.” She began shedding clothes. “What time is dinner?”
“Eight-thirty. We’re meeting Dino.”
“What a surprise! Wake me in an hour, please.”
STONE FINISHED DRESSING, read for a while, then woke her as requested.
“Is it morning?” she asked sleepily.
“Not yet. Another ten hours to go.”
She sat up. “A shower,” she said.
“Thataway,” he replied, pointing.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, she was as fresh as a bouquet of roses.
“How do you do that?” Stone asked.
“Do what?”
“Recover from exhaustion in half an hour?”
“I slept for an hour, remember?”
“Yes, but you still seemed exhausted.”
“Not exhausted, just sleepy. I’m quite well now. May we go to dinner? I’m starved.”
DINO HAD NOT yet arrived, so Stone ordered a Knob Creek and Felicity’s Rob Roy. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Not bad,” she replied. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet tomorrow.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Stone laughed. “Of course not; it was a silly question.”
“I’m thinking of quitting,” she said without preamble.
Stone was shocked. “I’m shocked,” he replied. “Truly.”
“I’ve got twenty years in, and there’s a pension.”
“Can one live well on a British civil service pension?”
“One can if one has a comfortable private income, a house in London, another in the Isle of Wight and yet another in the south of France. Daddy died last year, and I was his only child.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Daddy wasn’t sorry,” she said. “He had been in pain for a year, and he was glad to go.”
“I’m sorry he was in pain. I’m glad he left you well off.”
“I would have been really well off but for the taxes. Fortunately, Daddy was liquid enough that I didn’t have to sell the properties. If I retire, will you come and see me?”
“I will come and see you, retired or not.”
She patted his hand. “You’re sweet.”
DINO ARRIVED, WAVED for his Scotch and sat down. “Good evening, one and all,” he said.
“You sound cheerful,” Stone said.
“I’m always cheerful,” he replied.
“Well… no. You are often dour.”
“Me, dour?”
“Often.”
“Well, I’m not dour tonight,” he said.
Felicity spoke up. “Could your good cheer be related to some success with the FBI regarding the photo of Stanley Whitestone?”
“Yes, it could.”
“I’m so glad.”
Dino pulled an envelope from his pocket. “The FBI photo comparison program pulled this from a bank security camera two blocks up Park Avenue from the Seagram Building.” He laid the photo on the table. It was that of a stocky man in a good suit, wearing a hat, entering the bank. “It was a good match.”
Stone looked at the photo. “It’s no better than the one we got from the Seagram Building,” he said.
“Wait, there’s another angle,” Dino said, producing another photograph and laying it on the table. This one was full face, but from farther away.
Stone and Felicity peered at it.
“Can they enhance it?” Felicity asked.
“This is the enhanced version,” Dino said.
“It gives an impression of the same man,” Stone said, “but it’s too blurry for identification. The Seagram stuff was much sharper.”
“The bank equipment isn’t as recent,” Dino said. “Would you rather have a blurry photograph or no photograph at all?”
“Hobson’s choice,” Felicity said.
“What?” Dino asked.
“It’s Britspeak for no choice at all,” Stone replied.
“May I keep these?” Felicity asked.
