“I’ve got my private pilot’s license now,” he said, “and I’ve been training for my instrument training over at Clinton Field. It’s just the sort of airport Teddy likes.”
“What’s your point?” Todd asked angrily.
“Twice I’ve seen a couple in a black Toyota convertible at the airport. I asked around, and they’re living in a hangar there. A guy named Karl Walters bought it six or seven years ago, but he hasn’t been around much. Now he’s living there with a girl.”
“And you think it’s Teddy? You wouldn’t know him if he stepped on your foot.”
“You’re right about that, Todd.”
Todd made to leave, but the man stopped him again.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Todd said.
“I don’t care whether you want to hear it or not, I’m going to say it. You’re right, I wouldn’t know Teddy from Adam, and both times I’ve seen the car, the reflection on the windshield kept me from seeing the driver.”
“You haven’t even seen him, but you think it’s Teddy? Jesus, I was obsessed with the guy, but you’re even worse.”
“I know the girl,” number two said. “I followed her in San Diego. It’s Lauren Cade. And where she is, Teddy is.”
Todd sighed. “I’m going to let this go,” he said, “but if I hear from you again about this or anything else, I’m going to bust you with Lance Cabot. Do you understand me?”
The man shrugged and walked back to his car without another word. In a moment, he drove away in a spray of gravel.
Todd got back into his car and sat, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his heart pounding. Finally, he started the car and resumed his trip home. “I’m forgetting this,” he said aloud to himself. “I’m putting it right out of my mind.”
40
STONE AND HOLLY WERE SITTING UP IN BED HAVING BREAKFAST the following morning when Stone’s cell phone buzzed on the bedside table.
“Dad? It’s Peter.”
“Peter! How are you?” Peter and Ben, Dino’s son, were in their first year at the Yale School of Drama. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks.”
“I know, I’ve got a play opening soon, and it’s been crazy here.”“I expect so.”
“I was hoping you’d be able to come up for the opening?”
“I’d really love to do that, Peter, but I’m in Washington, D.C., working on something really important, and I don’t think I can get away.”
“So this is that murder at the White House, and those other women?”
Stone was stunned. “How on earth can you know that?”
“Haven’t you seen the morning papers? We get the Times delivered, and it’s on page eight.”
Stone covered the phone and turned toward Holly. “Will you please get the papers from the front door?” She got out of bed and padded, naked, into the living room. “How long is the play going to run? Maybe I can get up later.”
“Only four nights, through the weekend. Tell me about this thing you’re working on, Dad. It sounds like there might be a film in it.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Stone said. Holly returned with the papers. “The Times, page eight,” he said to her, and she began looking.
“Why not? It’s public property now.”
Holly shoved the paper in front of him. “Hang on, I’ve got the paper here.” Stone read the article, which took up half a page. “It appears,” he said to Peter, “that the New York Times knows as much about this case as I do.”
“The Washington Post,” Peter said. “That’s where the Times got the story.”
“Oh, yeah, I see that now.”