“Can’t hurt to check,” Arnie replied.
“I guess not. Maybe I’ll take a took at her later, if I don’t come up with anything else.”
Arnie shoved the address back across the desk. “This is something to do with this DIRT business, isn’t it? And so I guess I know who your client is.”
“Arnie, you re
ally get around, don’t you?” Stone asked, surprised. “How’d you come by this?”
Arnie shrugged. “Friend of mine is on the features desk at the Post. They been handing the sheet around the newsroom.”
“You got any theories?”
“Sounds like somebody tight with one of the people getting burned, maybe with more than one of them. I think you should check out Martha there.” He pointed at the piece of paper on Stone’s desk. “You can never tell what motivates a person.”
Stone nodded. “You’ve got a point; maybe I will.”
His secretary buzzed. “Richard Hickock on line one. You in?”
“I’m in,” Stone replied. “See you soon, Arnie; give my girl your bill on the way out, and she’ll write you a check.” He picked up the phone as he watched the retired detective trudge out. “Dick?”
“Okay, I talked with Amanda,” Hickock said, not bothering with a greeting.
“She told me.”
“What have you learned so far?”
“Not much; I’m checking out a few leads.”
“Any of them lead to me?”
“Not so far. Tell me, who else knows about Tiffany Potts?”
“Not a goddamned soul, that’s who.”
“Not your secretary?”
“No. We don’t communicate through her.”
“How do you communicate?”
“Cellular phones, and she has a beeper.”
“Cellular can be leaky, Dick. All somebody needs is a scanner.”
“We never use names. If somebody was listening, they wouldn’t know who was talking. We also keep it very brief.”
“I think I should talk with Miss Potts.”
“Stone, she’s very very discreet.”
“Nevertheless, Dick, if you want me to get to the bottom of this…”
“Oh, all right; I’ll have her call you.”
“Good. Are there any other… intimates I should talk with?”
“None. Get back to me.” Hickock hung up.