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.
“I hear that Little Debby’s alibi was that she was in New York at the time of the killing. I thought that might necessitate a trip to our city by the nation’s chief investigative officer.”
“I like the way you think,” she said.
“I like that you like the way I think. It will make your expense account look better if you just stay with me, rather than at the Carlyle.”
“More good thinking.” She looked at her watch. “I have a helicopter at my disposal, now, you know.”
“I rather thought you did.”
“I can be scratching on your door by six o’clock.”
“I love that sound,” Stone said. “What would you like to dine on?”
“You,” she said.
“I hope your phone isn’t tapped.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
“We’ll dine in then.”
“Oh, yes.”
39
Maren Gustav’s helicopter ran a little late, and Fred was announcing dinner as Stone greeted her. “Sorry, I got held up at the office,” she said.
“You’re just in time. Dinner’s ready. Can you dine without a drink first?”
“I’m as hungry as a tigress,” she said, as Stone seated her.
“I hope you like foie gras,” he said.
“You can still get it in New York?”
“I expect them to ban it every time I think about it, so I try not to think about it.”
Fred set two plates of perfectly seared foie gras before them, and they made all the right noises as they ate.
When they had finished the sauternes served with the first course, Fred came in with a platter and presented a thick porterhouse steak, then set it on the sideboard and carved it perfectly.
They made the correct sounds again, then finished their cabernet slowly.
“You were right about Little Debby’s alibi,” Maren said. “She’s in New York.”
“I’m sorry to hear that I was right,” Stone replied.
“But do you know what she did before she left the federal building in D.C.?”
“I don’t know. Used the ladies’ room?”
“Do you know what else she did?”
“Pass.”
“She took the elevator down to the basement.”
“Shocking!” Stone said.
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Do you know what’s in the basement?”
“Cells?”
“A few holding cells, but what else?”
“The coffee machine?”
“The evidence locker.”
Stone sipped his wine. “Locker?”
“Like, a big room, really, manned by one officer, who goes to lunch at the same time every day. Do you know what’s in an evidence locker?”
“I’ll take a stab. Evidence?”
“You’re being a smart-ass again.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what she did?”
“She let herself into the locker, apparently with her own key, then went shopping.”
“And what did she buy?”
“I should have said ‘shoplifting.’”
“Then what did she lift?”
“At this point, it’s all deduction,” Maren said. “The evidence locker has lots of guns that are presumed to have been used in committing crimes.”
“Ah, it all becomes clear,” Stone said. “She wants an untraceable weapon.”
“Or one that can’t be traced further than the evidence locker.”
“Where did you get all this information?”
“Secondhand from an informant who was in a holding cell, awaiting a court appearance, through a special agent who knows me. The evidence locker is not a room, exactly; it’s a chain-link cage with long, open shelves.”
“And your informant had a good view of all this?”
“He could see her through the chain link, facing him, and going through the firearms stash there.”
“And she found something to her liking?”
Maren nodded. “What appeared to be a .22-caliber automatic with a silencer screwed on: an assassin’s weapon, in short.”
“I hope he took photographs,” Stone said, “but I guess the inmates aren’t allowed cameras.”
“He managed to get his iPhone smuggled in by his girlfriend. He says he took half a dozen pics, and he wants to trade them for a kind word with the prosecutor about his suitability for a suspended sentence.”
“What’s he up for?”
“Burglary of a federal property. He’d normally get, maybe, five to seven years. He’s not a first offender.”
“So he wants to walk? Is it worth it?”
“To fry Little Debby’s ass? Are you kidding?”
“So, when do we get to see the pictures?”
“After his sentencing.”
“Not before?”
“That would be preferred, but he knows if he screws us we’ll get him on something else.”
“When’s he being sentenced?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Is the prosecutor on board?”
“He’d better be. The attorney general and I are tight.”
“Does he know that?”
“It’s being explained to him as we speak.”
Dessert arrived, a crème brûlée, served with a small glass of Grand Marnier. Afterward, Fred poured them a cognac and retreated.
“Would you like another tour of the master suite?” Stone asked.
“I’d like a tour of the bed,” she said.
They took their cognacs with them, and Stone conducted the tour personally.
40
Stone and Maren had sex, breakfast, sex, and a shower, in that order. As Stone walked out of his dressing room he heard Maren’s phone ring in her dressing room. The conversation was short and loud.
She walked into the bedroom.
“They’ve moved our guy to a holding cell in the courthouse,” she said. “He still won’t give us the photographs of Little Debby in the evidence locker, until the judge hands him a suspended sentence.”
“Can’t you just confiscate his cell phone?”
“He passed it back to someone who will be in the courtroom. I can’t search everybody. They’ll all have cell phones.”
“What was your decision?”
“I told the prosecutor to ask for a suspended sentence, and to sound good doing it.”
“That’s smart,” Stone said.
“That’s desperate.”
“When do we hear?”
“I asked for his case to be called first, so not too long.”
They had just walked into Stone’s office when her phone rang. “Got ’em,” she said and began scrolling through the shots. “No... no... no... NO!... YES!” She held the phone for Stone to see. “Only one good one, but look at it.”
Stone took the phone and gazed at the photo. Little Debby, in person, holding a black semiautomatic pistol with about six inches of silencer screwed into the barrel. “Um...” he said.
“What?”
“Well...”
“Well, what?”
Stone turned the phone around and pointed. “Great shot of the gun, but you’re missing most of Debby’s face.”
Maren snatched back the phone. “Holy shit! We only got her chin!”
“Great shot of the gun, though.”
Maren moved back up the line of photos. “Here’s a good one of her face,” she said.
“Is it in the same frame as the gun?”
“No,” Maren replied glumly. “You’re a lawyer, will these photos stand up in court?”
“I’ll give you a definitive answer: maybe. More important is how your witness’s testimony stands up in court. If he can convincingly say, ‘I took these photos, and they are all of Deborah Myers, including the one with the gun,’ then maybe better than maybe. Of course, her attorney will be waving his arms and shouting ‘Objection!’”
Maren’s phone rang. “Yes? Hello, Mark. Yes, I got the pictures. Unfortunately not one of them includes both the gun and a recognizable shot of Debby’s face. What’s your witness’s name? Eddie Craft? Good name for a burglar. Let me speak to him. I know he walked, Mark, but he must still be in the courtroom. He has to be processed. You mean he actually, physically walked out of the courtroom? Who processed him? Find him quick, Mark, and put him on the phone with me!” She hung up.