D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22)

“Nothing I’d want in my scrapbook.”

“Did the lady have a diary?”

“I looked in the bedside drawer,” Stone said, “and there was no diary. I didn’t touch anything, though. Your people have a clean shot at prints.”

“Gee, thanks,” the detective said. “Suppose I print all of you, anyway?”

“Suppose you go fuck yourself,” Dino said.

“Now, gentlemen,” Holly interjected. “Everybody be nice. Detective, I’ll confirm that nobody touched anything.”

“How’d you get in the house?” he asked. “The front door was locked.”

“The b?ack door isn’t,” Holly said, careful about her use of tense.

“You spooks don’t run the Arlington PD,” he said.

“We have neither the time nor the inclination,” Holly replied. “We’re grateful for your help.”

Stone spoke up. “You should be grateful,” he said to the detective.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because if she hadn’t made the request, you’d have two TV trucks out there and a yard full of reporters clamoring for a statement.”

The detective made a mock curtsy in Holly’s direction. “Thanks for keeping my picture out of the papers. The chief might have seen it.”

“Here’s an idea,” Dino said. “Why don’t you call them back in?”

“Good idea,” the detective replied.

“Detective,” Holly said, “I don’t think you need us anymore.”

“Christ knows that’s true,” he replied. “Good afternoon and good riddance.”

Holly herded Stone and Dino out the door. “Let’s move,” she said. Then, when they were outside: “Dino, don’t let that diary fall down your pants.”

THEY WERE BACK IN the suite at the Hay-Adams before Dino produced the diary. Holly grabbed it, sat on the sofa, opened it to the last page, and read aloud.

“‘Those two from New York grilled me relentlessly this afternoon. I told them everything, and it was embarrassing, but it turned me on. Took care of that when I got home. Now I’m depressed.’”

“She doesn’t sound all that depressed,” Dino said, “not if she could do herself after our conversation.”

“I never knew being interrogated was a turn-on,” Stone said.

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Dino replied.

Holly was turning pages, scanning them. “My goodness, she described every sexual encounter with Brix, even the masturbatory ones!”

“Was she sleeping with anybody else besides Brix?” Stone asked.

“Apparently not,” Holly replied.

“Then the paraphernalia in her bedside drawer was just in case?”

Holly closed the diary and tossed it to Stone. “This only goes back to the first of last year. She must have earlier ones.”

“I don’t think it’s worth trying to get them out of the Arlington cops,” Stone said. “Not if this one covers the time leading up to the deaths of Brix and his wife.”