D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22)

“Hmmmmm.”

“Don’t be coy. You don’t want me arrested before tonight, do you?”

“Perhaps not. What do you want to know?”

“Do they still consider me a suspect in the murder of Milly Hart, and are there any new developments in that case?”

“That’s two favors.”

“Be cagey.”

“I can do that, I suppose.”

“You do it better than anybody I know.”

“That’s high praise, coming from you, slick.”

“I meant being cagey.”

“What a disappointment!”

“I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”

“Good. Suckle you later, honey.” She hung up.

Dino looked across the room at him. “I can only imagine her side of the conversation,” he said.

“Dream on,” Stone said, then picked up the phone again and called room service.

“Yes, Mr. Barrington?” a woman’s voice said. “Or is it Mr. Bacchetti?”

“Right the first time,” Stone said.

“What may room service serve you?”

“A bottle of your cheapest vodka and a bottle of Rose’s sweetened lime juice.”

“Is that dinner for one or two?”

“That’s cocktails, honest. I’ll order dinner later.”

“I’m afraid our cheapest vodka isn’t very cheap,” she replied. “Just between us, you’d do a lot better at a liquor store.”

“But then I’d have to go to a liquor store.”

“ size="3May I make a recommendation?”

“Of course.”

“Call the bell captain and have him send a bellman around the corner for your order. Tip him fifty dollars, and you’ll save a hundred and fifty.”

“What a grand idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’ve obviously never bought a bottle of spirits from hotel room service before.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“Is there anything else we can do for you?”