Shakeup
- Автор: Вудс Стюарт
- Серия: Stone Barrington #55
- Год: 2020
- Язык: английский
- Год: G. P. Putnam’s Sons
- ISBN: 978-0-593-18832-3
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Shakeup». Краткое содержание книги:
As it turns out, the mastermind behind the malfeasance rocking New York City and the nation’s capital wields a heavy hand of influence. And when Stone is unable to recruit those closest to the case to his side, he is left with few leads and a handful of dead-ends. But with the help of important people in high places — and the expertise of alluring new friends — Stone is more than ready to rise to the occasion.
“One of them being the case officer, then Don and Debby?”
“That’s his hunch.”
“Even if we can’t prove it?”
“At least, we’ll know.”
“If we accept Art’s hunch.”
“You’re making this sound like a bad idea.”
“Well, I haven’t heard anything yet that makes it sound like a good idea.”
“You and I have solved cases based on a hunch,” Stone said.
“At least it was our hunch, not Arthur Jacoby’s.”
“We’re not on the ground in D.C.,” Stone pointed out. “Art is. At least, he was before he went into hiding.”
“Look,” Dino said. “If you and Art start poking around in a D.C. case, it could bounce back on us, make people think we know where Art is.”
“We do know where he is,” Stone said.
“But nobody knows we know that,” Dino pointed out.
“Maybe we should just drop the idea of breaking the alibi,” Stone said.
“That’s the first good idea you’ve had all day.”
“Well,” Stone said, consulting his watch, “it’s only two-thirty.”
“I have to go back to work,” Dino said, rising. “I can’t spend any more time today doing D.C.’s job for them.” Dino left.
Stone thought about who he might know who would know who the case officer was. He asked Joan for the initial report on the killing, which somebody had sent him. Art’s girlfriend’s name was Deana Carlyle. He had a thought, and it was worth a try. He called the phone number on the report.
“Homicide,” a gruff voice answered.
“Hi, this is Detective Benson with the NYPD.”
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Who’s the case officer on the Deana Carlyle killing?”
“That would be Dean Casey,” the man said. “Hang on, I’ll transfer you.”
Stone hung up. Deana? Dean? Case Casey? This was nuts. His phone rang. “Yes?”
“Art Jacoby for you on one.”
Stone punched the button. “Hey, Art.”
“The case officer is Dean Casey.”
“I heard. And your girlfriend’s name was Deana Carlyle?”
“Right.”
“Who’s Dean Casey?”
“Little Debby’s most favorite toady in the whole world.”
“So, he’s suspect number three?”
“In my book he is.”
“Thanks.” He called Dino and told him, and Dino laughed out loud.
30
Stone was in bed with a book when Holly called. “We scrambled?” she asked.
“We are,” Stone replied. “How was your day?”
“No worse than it should have been. This early in a new administration, everybody works hard to get it right, to prove their competence and my good judgment in hiring them.”
“That’s an astute observation.”
“Thank you, I needed that. When you’re at the top, everybody wants to praise your efforts, whether you deserve it or not.”
“Another astute observation. They’re piling up. You should keep a diary, and you can publish it when you’re done.”
“Can you suggest a title?”
“How about Astute Observations?”
She laughed. “Too self-congratulatory.”
“Well, somebody’s got to congratulate you.”
“You’re doing just fine,” she said. “What, if anything, happened to you today?”
“Well, the suspect list for the death of Art Jacoby’s girlfriend has grown to three.”
“And who are they?”
“Donald Clark, Debby Myers, and a cop named Dean Casey, all suspected of being in cahoots.”
“Who’s Casey?”
“The case officer, oddly enough. And, rumor has it, he’s Little Debby’s favorite toady. She put him in charge of the investigation.”
“Well, that’s very cozy, isn’t it?”
“Any suggestions on how to proceed?”
“Is the girlfriend a federal employee?”
“I don’t know what she does — ah, did.”
“If she was, then killing her is a federal crime, and I can sic the FBI on them.”
“I’ll find out. Can you hang on a moment?”
“You’re putting your president on hold? That isn’t done.”
“Only for a moment.” He called Art Jacoby.
“Yes?”
“It’s Stone. What kind of work did your girlfriend do?”
“She was a secretary at Justice.”
“Thanks.” Stone switched back to Holly
“You there?”
“Just barely. In all my time in this office, I’ve never been treated that way.”
“Awwww. Good news, though. Art’s girlfriend was a secretary at the DOJ.”
“I’ll goose the Bureau, then.”
“Can you have the goose get in touch with me? I’ll bring him up to date, off the record.”
“I suppose I can suggest that.” She sighed. “I miss you.”
“You mean, you miss the sex?”
“That, too.”
“As long as you don’t miss only the sex.”
Holly sang a few bars of “All of You.”
“That’s sweet!”
“You say that as though you’re surprised I can be sweet.”
“I’ve never doubted it.”
“But you think of me, more, as tart.”
“No, I don’t think of you as a tart, except in bed.”
“A lady in the parlor and a tart in the bedroom, huh?”
“Not the reference I would choose, but not inapt.”
“Good,” she said. “Now I have to go goose the Bureau. Expect a call.”
Stone hung up and tried to settle back into his book, but thoughts of Holly kept intruding. His phone rang.
“May I speak to Stone Barrington, please?” A woman’s voice, a very pleasant one.
“This is he.”
“This is Maren Gustav; I’m a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Stone hadn’t expected a woman; he hoped that didn’t make him a misogynist. Probably not, he decided. “Good evening.”
“You didn’t expect a woman, did you?”
“I had no expectations of any kind.”
“I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, who lives in a large house in Washington.”
“I believe we must.”
“May I take you to lunch tomorrow,” she asked, “so we can discuss the matter?”
“That sounds good, but I’m in New York,” Stone replied.
“What a coincidence, so am I!”
“Then when and where shall we meet?”
“At the Grill, at twelve-thirty?”
“Very good. How will I recognize you?”
“You can’t miss me. I’ll be wearing a badge, a helmet, and SWAT body armor.”
“I’m sure the other patrons will find that entertaining.”
“I’ll know you from the waltzing photos in People.”
“Oh, no.”
“Until then.” She hung up. Stone knew from past experience that it was unwise to form mental pictures of a woman, based only on her voice, but his bet was that she was not short, fat, and unattractive.
31
The following morning Stone had the thought of inviting Dino to join them at lunch but decided against it, until he had made his own assessment of Maren Gustav. He idled through the morning, then walked up to the Seagram Building and into the Grill’s street-level entrance. He walked up the stairs into the bar, and the maître d’ approached. “Ms. Gustav is waiting for you on the back row,” he said, nodding toward the rows of table.
Her face was hidden behind a menu as he approached. “Ms. Gustav?” he said, and the menu went to half-staff, revealing a Swedish blonde who, sitting down, appeared to be quite tall.