Stone held it by thumb and forefinger and checked the label. “Banana Republic,” he said. “Must be thousands of them on the street.”
Dino hopped down to the street, produced a large plastic bag, and stuffed the sweatshirt into it and the gloves into a smaller bag, which he placed in the larger bag. They walked around the corner to where Dino’s car was waiting and got in. Dino tossed the bag into the front passenger seat. “Take us to Elaine’s, then get that bag to Bartkowski and Salero at the precinct, and tell them to get it to the criminalist,” he said. “Sign the chain of evidence log, and I’ll do it when I get in later.” Dino called the precinct and told the two detectives to expect the sweatshirt and gloves, to check the gloves for fingerprints on the inside, and to get a copy of the videotape from the doorman at the building, then he sat back in his seat and sighed.
“Feels good when you’ve done everything you need to do,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
Stone agreed.
TWENTY
At Elaine’s their first drink
was delivered.
“It has to be a pro job,” Dino said. “It’s too clean for anything else—no rifling of her drawers or jewelry box, just in, slug the cook, shoot the woman, and out.”
“He must have cased the rear entrance earlier,” Stone said, “or the outside door wouldn’t have been taped. He came through the lobby to get in.”
“He could have stood around outside and waited for somebody to open the rear door, then grabbed it before it closed,” Dino pointed out.
“I guess. I think your detectives ought to get all the visitors’ names for the day, though, everybody who isn’t a resident.”
“Good idea,” Dino said. “I’ll send them back for that. Any other thoughts?”
“I can’t help think that this had something to do with the blowup at the Gunn company,” Stone said. “That seems to be the only irregular event in the family.”
“Another thing,” Dino said. “She offed her husband; that must have offended somebody—his family, a friend.”
“Revenge served cold,” Stone said. “Maybe; I guess it’s worth checking out.”
“Had to be a pro.”
“Or somebody who’s watched enough TV to figure out how a pro works. If I’d been on time for dinner, maybe things would have been different.”
“Yeah,” Dino said, “maybe he’d have shot you, too.”
Herbie Fisher and his new wife walked into the restaurant and approached Stone and Dino’s table. “We just heard,” Herbie said, and they sat down without being asked.
“Hello, Stephanie,” Stone said. “I’m sorry for your loss. This is Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti. He’s in charge of the investigation.”
“Tell us what happened, Lieutenant,” Stephanie said.
“Somebody came into the building’s service entrance, having taped the lock back earlier, took the elevator upstairs, opened the service door to the apartment, which wasn’t locked. The chef was at the stove, cooking. He hit her with something substantial, like a gun barrel. She fell to the floor, unconscious. He walked into the dining room, where your aunt was standing near the table, shot her in the head. She fell, he shot her again in the head, then he left the way he came. We got a video of him at the back entrance, coming and going, but he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and his face isn’t visible. We found the sweatshirt and a pair of latex gloves in a dumpster across the street. They’ll be checked for trace evidence. That’s about it, so far.”
Stephanie teared up and shook her head. “I don’t get it,” she said. “Who would want to hurt Aunt Adele?”
“Give that some thought,” Stone said. “Anybody angry with her? Even a family member?”
Stephanie shook her head. “Everybody loved her.”
“Not everybody,” Dino said.
“Do you know anything about her will?” Stone asked. “Who would inherit?”
“She didn’t have any children,” Stephanie said.
“And her husband is dead,” Dino pointed out. “Did he have any close family members?”
“His parents are dead,” Stephanie replied, “but he had a brother. He’s a diplomat of some sort, stationed in London.”