D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22)

“How did you know her name?”

“You just told it to me,” Stone said, as patiently as he could.

“Oh, my God! You see what you’ve made me do?”

“Please, Mrs. Trask: Mrs. Brandon’s address.”

The woman sighed. “She lives two houses that way,” she said, pointing. “It’s the green house with the window boxes.”

“Thank you. Now, last evening you said that Mr. Kendrick had had numerous affairs. With whom?”

“Well, I don’t know if they were numerous,” she said. “I know of only one other.”

“And who would that be?” Stone asked, pen poised.

“I’ve heard that Milly Hart and Brix were surreptitiously seeing each other for a while. With a y,” she said helpfully. “In the afternoons.”

“And her address?”

“The next block,” she said, pointing again. “Second on the left, with a black door.”

“Any others at all?” Stone asked.

“Not that I am aware of,” she replied.

Stone stood. “Thank you for your assistance, Mrs. Trask. I’m sorry to have intruded on your afternoon.”

She shrugged. “Anything for the president,” she said.

THE TRASK DOOR CLOSED behind them, and they got into the car.

“I know the way,” Dino said, starting the car.

They found a parking place on the street, and as they were about to get out of the car, Stone pointed at the house with the window boxes. A well-dressed man carrying a briefcase was closing the door behind him and walking down the front steps. “Well, at least we won’t have to deal with Mr. Brandon.”

“How do we know that’s Mr. Brandon?” Dino asked.

“You have a point.”

They waited until the putative Mr. Brandon had cleared the block, then they walked to the house and rang the bell. Almost immediately, it was opened by a woman in a Chanel suit.

“Mrs. Brandon?” Stone said. “I am—”

“I know who you are,” she said quickly. “Come inside before anyone sees you.” She closed the door behind her. “Betty Trask called just now. You narrowly missed my husband, thank God! Come in here.” She led the way to a cozy, paneled study, seated them, then closed the door. “Now,” she said, perching on a small chair, “what do you want?”

“I’m sure Mrs. Trask told you why we’re here,” Stone said.

“Well, of course she did,” Mrs. Brandon replied. “But what do you want from me? Brix Kendrick is dead and confessed in a letter, or so I read in the Post. A year has passed. Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Mrs. Brandon, you dragged yourself into this when you had an affair with Mr. Kendrick. We’re simply investigating the circumstances of his and his wife’s deaths, and we hope you can help us. This is not for publication.”

“Oh, all right, what do you want?”

“How long were you and Mr. Kendrick, ah, seeing each other?”

“About two and a half months,” she said.

“And where did you meet?”