New York Dead

Stone took a deep breath. “This is not something you can discuss with anybody at work.”

“Of course not,” she said indignantly.

He went back to his and Dino’s initial questioning of Hank Morgan and told her everything that had happened since.

“I see,” she said when he had finished. “So you think Hank had nothing to do with Sasha’s fall.”

“Nothing whatever.”

“But the NYPD and the DA’s office were going to try and railroad her for it?”

“Not exactly; they knew they would never get a conviction. They just needed a strong suspect to take the heat off the department. Somebody’s been telling a reporter or two that Morgan really did it, but they didn’t have enough evidence against her for a conviction.”

“So everybody would think Hank did it, even though they couldn’t prove it?”

“Right. Except it worked out even better than they had planned. They didn’t know that she wouldn’t be strong enough to handle the suspicion and the publicity; they couldn’t predict that she would finally break and kill herself.”

“So what happens now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“The investigation into Sasha’s fall is over. Hank’s suicide was as good as a confession.”

“But they still don’t know what happened to her, do they?”

“No, but the FBI very kindly stepped in and took responsibility for that part of the investigation, so the department is out of it.”

“Are you going to do anything about it?”

“What can I do?”

“Go to the press. I can arrange for you to talk with one of our investigative reporters.”

“It wouldn’t work. There’s just enough substance to the evidence against Morgan to justify the department’s actions. I mean, I can’t prove that she didn’t do it.” He picked up the bedside phone and dialed a number.

“Hello?” Dino said. He had obviously been asleep.

“Dino, it’s Stone; I want you to give Leary a message for me.”

“What?” He was waking up now.

“Tell him I found the phone tap, and it’s now in several pieces, so there’s no need to come back for it.”

“Stone, what are you talking-”

“Also tell him” – Stone glanced at the bedside clock – “that it’s nine forty-five now, and at ten o’clock I’m going to go downstairs and look up and down the street. If the police car is still sitting out there – or if I ever see any cops taking an interest in me again at any time – I’m going to take a fullpage ad in the New York Times and publish my complete memoirs. Did you get that?”

“Yeah, but-”

Stone hung up the phone and put his face in his hands.

Cary sat up and began massaging his shoulders. “Just take it easy now; you told them off, and that’s it. They won’t bother you again, and none of this is your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” Stone said.

“Understand what? It’s not your fault.”

Stone could not look at her, but he told her what he had been telling himself over and over again. “I would have gone along with it,” he said. “If they had let me stay on the force, I would have stood by and let them pillory Hank Morgan. I would have done anything to keep my job.”

Cary put her cheek against his back. “Oh, baby,” she said. “Oh, my poor, sweet baby.”

Chapter 31

Stone filed into the huge room with at least three hundred other aspirants to the bar of New York State, burdened like the rest with course materials, his bank account lighter by the substantial tuition. For eight hours, with a one-hour break for lunch, the instructor drilled the class, and Stone found the lectures to be well organized, to the point, with the fat trimmed away. The volume of material was daunting; when the day ended, he felt as if he’d been beaten up.

Back at home, he called Cary. “I’m near death,” he said, “but my incipient corpse is yours for the evening, if you want it.”

“I’d love to have it, but I’m stuck again,” she replied. “Friday night’s ratings were terrific, for a documentary, and we’re brainstorming after hours all week to come up with ideas for six more specials.”

“Shit.”

“I know, but you should be concentrating on passing the bar instead of lusting after me. You can lust after me on Saturday, though. Around here, not even Barron Harkness works on a Saturday.”

“You’re on. I wish I didn’t have to wait so long.”

“The law is a jealous mistress, remember?”

“Thank you, Madame Justice Hilliard.”

“Until Saturday.”

“You’d better get ready for this,” he said. “On Saturday, I’m going to tell you I love you.” He could hear the smile in her reply.

“It’s beginning to sound like a perfect weekend.”

Stone hung up, then checked the messages on his machine.

“It’s Dino, Stone. I didn’t know anything about that stuff that was going on. It was Leary’s doing, maybe at the suggestion of somebody upstairs. I just wanted you to know that. Take care of yourself.”

“Stone, this is Bill Eggers. I’m stuck in LA for at least another ten days – unforeseen circumstances, I believe the term is. It means all hell has broken loose on my case, and I’m going to be putting out fires until pretty near the end of next week, so we’ll have to postpone dinner. You impressed Woodman at dinner the other night, and he isn’t easily impressed. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks.”

“This is Abbott Wheeling, Stone. I enjoyed our conversation at dinner the other night. It occurred to me that, in light of subsequent events, you might be willing to talk about the Nijinsky case for publication. Should you feel that way, either now or at any time in the future, I’d be grateful if you’d call me at the Times. I can promise you that your views on the case will get the sort of serious public attention that only this newspaper can command. I won’t pester you about this, but please be assured of my continuing interest.”

Stone endured a moment’s temptation to call Wheeling and tell him everything, but the moment passed, and he returned to putting as much emotional distance as possible between himself and the Nijinsky case and the suicide of Hank Morgan.

He made himself some supper and resumed his varnishing of the bookshelves, trying to let his mind run over the day’s lecture. He was surprised at the familiarity of the material after so many years, and he was encouraged to think he might pass the bar exam after all.

On Saturday night Elaine gave Stone and Cary a table next to the piano. Stone liked piano music, and he was particularly enjoying the way Lauren was playing Rodgers and Hart. When they had finished dinner, Elaine joined them.

“Remember that guy, Doc? At the bar awhile back? The diagnostician?”

“Yeah. In fact, I saw a lot of him during the Nijinsky thing.”

“We had a weird thing in here with him last night. He was playing doctor with some little girl at the bar, and they left together, and, a minute later, she’s back in here, nearly hysterical. She said Doc had tried to muscle her into a van, and she was scared to death.”

“Did you call the precinct?”

“Nah, it didn’t seem as serious as that. I gave her a brandy and calmed her down; she didn’t want to take it