Entrance to the apartment house required a stop at a reception desk.
“Milly Hart,” Stone said to the uniformed doorman.
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“Mr. Stone Barrington and Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti.”
The man wrote down the names, then dialed a number and spoke for a moment. He covered the receiver with his hand. “She doesn’t know you,” he said.
“May I speak with her?” Stone asked. The man handed him the phone. “Hello, Ms. Hart?”
“Yes?” It was a low voice, nice to listen to.
“This is Stone Barrington. I am here to speak to you at the request of the president of the United States.”
“Really? Then give the phone to the doorman.”
Stone did so, and the doorman gave him the apartment number and pointed him toward the elevators.
“We know nothing about this lady?” Dino said. “Nothing you haven’t told me?”
“Zip, Dino.”
“You sure about that?”
“Dino, you’re sounding more like a wife at every turn.”
The door opened directly into a handsome foyer, where a large arrangement of fresh flowers sat on an antique mahogany table.
“Very classy,” Dino said.
A door opened, and a uniformed maid, their second of the day, beckoned them in. “This way, please.”
Milly Hart simultaneously entered the living room through another door and walked toward them. She was a striking redhead wearing a negligee with a matching silk dressing gown, right out of an Arlene Dahl movie. In fact, she resembled Arlene Dahl in one of her old films. “Mr. Barrington? Lieutenant Bacchetti? How do you do?” she said, with an accent right off the New York stage. She extended a perfectly manicured hand and allowed both of them to shake it, then waved them to a sofa and took a chair. “You’ve piqued my curiosity with talk of the president,” she said.
“We’re speaking with you at his request.”
“I’m flattered, but I’ve met the gentleman briefly only a few times, at White House dinners and such. What are you a lieutenant of?” she asked Dino. “I was expecting an army uniform.”
“Of the New York City Police Department,” Dino replied.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “I hope this isn’t about that parking ticket last winter. It was a hired car and driver, and I assumed his company would take care of it and bill me.”
“No, ma’am,” Dino said. “It’s not about-”
“Would you gentlemen like some tea?” she asked. “It isn’t too early, is it? Or would you prefer something more potent?”
“Tea would be lovely, Ms. Hart,” Stone said.
“Please call me Milly,” she said. “Absolutely everybody does.”
“Thank you, Milly,” Stone said. “I assure you the president has not taken an interest in your parking tickets.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Frankly, I thought you were making that up to get past the doorman.”
“No, the presidNo,y curiosent has asked us to look into the murder and apparent suicide of Emily and Brixton Kendrick.”
For a moment, she nearly lost her composure, but she quickly recovered. “Really?”
“Really. We understand that you and Mr. Kendrick were . . . close.”
“And where did you come by that particular item?”
“It’s Washington,” Dino said, looking pleased with himself.
“Ah, yes, so it is. Am I suspected of murdering one or both of them?”
“No, Milly,” Stone said. “We’re here because you and Brix Kendrick were having an affair.”
“I remember the day the news broke,” she said, ignoring his remark. “I was in New York at the time.”
“You spend a lot of time in New York, do you?” Dino asked.
“I suppose I’m up there once a month, sometimes more often.”
“We don’t need an alibi from you,” Stone said.
“Then, pray tell, what do you need?”
“We’d like to know who else Brix Kendrick was seeing.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said, “but I am not privy to that information. Frankly, Brix did not seem to be the sort who would have affairs.”
“And yet you were having an affair with him,” Stone pointed out.
“I mean, multiple affairs,” she replied. She still had not admitted her own affair, explicitly.
“What else can you tell us about Brix?” Stone asked.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid I have nothing else to tell you.” She looked at a diamond wristwatch adorning her slender wrist. “And I’m afraid I have forgotten another appointment for this hour. Will you gentlemen excuse me? I’m sorry about the tea.”
She stood up, and the maid appeared as if on cue. “This way, gentlemen,” she said.
Milly Hart turned and left the room without another word.
Stone and Dino found themselves in the entry hall, waiting for the elevator.
“I wonder what she’s hiding,” Stone said.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dino asked.
“Get what?”
“Milly Hart is a hooker.”
21
They got into the elevator. “Why on earth do you think Milly Hart is a hooker?” Stone asked.
“Stone, sometimes you are so fucking naive.”
“What?”
“We go to see a woman without an appointment. She walks in clad in Hollywood lingerie, then, while we are questioning her, she suddenly remembers another appointment.”
The elevator doors opened, and, standing before them was Muffy Brandon’s husband. They got off, and he got on.
“Are you getting the picture now?” Dino asked.
“I believe so,” Stone said. “I’m sorry to be so slow on the uptake.”
“The No,y ze='3'>“question is, how did Brixton Kendrick afford a high-priced hooker like Milly Hart? He was a government employee, for God’s sake.”
“Private income?” Stone asked.
“Not according to his son. Remember meeting him?”
“Ah, yes, and he was terribly concerned about getting the max out of selling the old man’s house.”
“And we’ve gotta be talking about at least a grand a pop for an hour of Milly Hart’s time.”
“I don’t have any experience with rates for hookers,” Stone said.
“Well, you’ve gotta admit that Milly is a rare beauty, especially in a town full of women like Betty Trask and Muffy Brandon.”
“I can’t argue with that. I don’t suppose Brix Kendrick would have any trouble wanting her. Except that his days already seemed pretty full.”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “he must have been short of time with Muffy waiting for him in the afternoons, and he couldn’t have been seeing somebody else in the evenings, because he was busy being an ideal husband. The question is, how could he get it up that often, at his age?”
“How old was he?” Stone asked.
