New York Dead

grabbed a copy.

Henrietta “Hank” Morgan, 32, a makeup artist at the Continental Network and a leading activist in lesbian-rights demonstrations, was taken in handcuffs to the 19th Precinct this morning and questioned for more than three hours about the disappearance of TV anchorwoman Sasha Nijinsky. In what a police source described as a “breakthrough” in the investigation, Morgan is reported to have given a detailed statement on videotape, while her lawyer, Carlton Palmer, was present. While the NYPD has not disclosed the contents of the tape, a source has said, “This all but wraps up the investigation.” The source would not reveal what the NYPD thinks has become of Sasha.

Ace criminal trial lawyer Palmer said, in a telephone interview at press time, “My client is innocent of any wrongdoing, and the police know that. This entire episode is a perversion of justice.”

Morgan, the daughter of a prominent Pennsylvania manufacturer, has been in and out of a dozen makeup jobs in the film and television industry over the past ten years and is known to have been Sasha Nijinsky’s personal choice as her makeup artist at the Continental Network.

The story made Stone grind his teeth. The precinct seemed to be leaking from every pore, and whoever had given the Post the story had either not known what he was talking about or had deliberately misled the newspaper. There was going to be hell to pay.

The phone was ringing as he entered the house, tripping over a number of boxes in the hallway. The dentist in the professional suite downstairs received packages for him when he was at work and put them inside the front door.

Dino was on the phone. “Leary wants us downtown at the DA’s office tomorrow morning at nine.”

“What’s going on?”

“He didn’t say.”

A thought struck Stone. “I’m scheduled for a department physical tomorrow morning.”

“If you want, I’ll do the meeting, you get checked out.”

Stone thought for a moment. “I’d better be there, I think. I don’t much like the sound of it.”

“You seen the Post?”

“Yeah. Who do you think is leaking to the press?”

“Could be anybody.”

“I guess so.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Dino hung up.

Stone turned his attention to the boxes in the front hall. A glance at the labels told him what they were. Shit, he had intended to cancel the clothes orders. How could they have gotten them here so fast? Furious at himself and annoyed by being called to the DA’s office for no apparent reason, he ripped through the day’s mail and nearly threw away an invitation, thinking it some sort of classy junk mail. It was for dinner on Saturday, at the apartment of Hiram Barker. That should be an interesting evening, he thought. He rang the number, got an answering machine, and accepted, adding that he would bring a date, if that was all right. Well, he thought, sighing, at least he’d be able to dress well for the occasion.

They were at Elaine’s, at a small table all the way in the back. It was a crowded night, as usual, and Lauren, the singer-piano player, was straining to be heard above the din.

“Want to go to dinner at Hi Barker’s on Saturday night?” he asked Cary.

She nearly choked on her scotch. “No kidding?”

“No kidding. The invitation came in today’s mail.”

“You’re really coming up in the world. Dinner at Barker’s is a hot ticket.”

“I interviewed him about Sasha, and he said come to dinner sometime. I thought it was just the usual chat.”

“I am definitely available,” she said. “Now, what am I going to wear?”

“I don’t have any problem about what to wear,” he said. “All that stuff we ordered came today. You know what you made me spend?”

She waved away his question. “My daddy always said, ‘Buy the things you want, and then figure out how to pay for them. Debt is a great motivator.’”

Stone laughed. “Well, I guess I’d better get motivated.”

“Come on, sweetheart, that’s what credit cards are for. How do you think everybody else in this town dresses?”

“I never did it that way. I never bought anything on a credit card that I couldn’t pay for at the end of the month.”

“A very stuffy attitude.”

“A very necessary one, when you’re on a cop’s salary.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About my salary?”

“About making a lot more money than you are. You’ve got a law degree, after all; why don’t you use it?”

“I never took the bar exam.”

“How about a-”

“I know, a cram course. You’re as bad as Elaine. She’s been at me about that.”

“She’s right. You’re a highly intelligent man, and a highly handsome one, too, I might add. That counts for more than you might think, and not just with women.”

“So, I could just quit the force and live on my looks?”

She laughed. “If it were up to me, you could. Does the practice of law repel you so much?”

“Look, I’m thirty-eight years old. I can’t just get in line at the big firms with this year’s grads and expect to get taken on. ‘So, Mr. Barrington, what have you been doing with yourself in the fifteen years between getting your law degree and passing the bar?’ ‘Oh, I’ve been arresting drug dealers and investigating murders and other sordid crimes.’ ‘Wonderful, that experience will stand you in good stead in our estate planning department. Will a hundred thousand a year be enough?’”

She laughed again. “There are other facets of the law besides estate planning, you know.”

“Sure there are. You know which ones I’d be qualified for? I’ll tell you; I’d be qualified to hang around the criminal courts picking up burglary defenses, drug busts, and drunk driving cases. That’s what ex-cops who are lawyers do – they go to night school, get a law degree, and, when they retire, they pick up an extra income by leaning on their old buddies on the force and in the DA’s office to go easy on the scum they’re defending.”

“You underestimate yourself,” she said. “Still, that’s an endearing quality in a world where overconfidence is a way of life.”

“Let’s order,” Stone said, picking up a menu.

“I think I’d like you for dinner,” Cary said.

“Let’s start with a Caesar salad, and go on to the osso buco,” he said. “Then we can have each other for dessert.”

“I always have room for dessert,” she said.

And she did. Stone lay panting in the darkness when she had finished – spent, but still full of desire for her. He had never felt anything quite like it. He was in love with her, but he had been in love before. It was obsession, and that was foreign to him.

She wrapped herself around him. “That was delicious,” she breathed, kissing him behind the ear. “I’ll want more soon.”

“You’ll kill me,” he panted, “but I can deny you nothing.”

“Don’t even try,” she said.