Stone paced until the doctor turned up five minutes later. They shook hands. “I’d like to see the Jane Doe brought in last night,” he said. “She may be my secretary, Alma Hodges.”
“Describe your secretary,” the doctor said.
“Five-seven, a hundred and forty, early fifties, dark hair going gray, wearing a pin-striped suit.”
The doctor nodded. “Sounds like her. I’m sorry to tell you she died twenty minutes ago.”
Stone slumped.
“Her injuries were massive,” the doctor said. “She was struck at least half a dozen times with a blunt object, perhaps a hammer. The police thought it was a robbery, since she had no handbag or identification.”
“I’d better see her,” Stone said.
“I’ll walk you downstairs,” the doctor replied.
They rode the elevator down to the basement, and the doctor led the way to the morgue. The tray was pulled out of the refrigerator and the sheet pulled back.
She looked utterly peaceful, Stone thought, and quite beautiful. He was glad he didn’t have to look at the back of her head. He nodded. “That’s Alma Hodges,” he said.
“Did she have any family?” the doctor asked.
“A sister. I’ll speak to her; then I’ll make some arrangements.”
“An autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon; I should think the body will be ready for release first thing in the morning.”
Stone thanked the doctor and left the hospital. He took a cab home and went down to his office. Alma’s desk was in perfect order, his brief stacked neatly on top, with a note saying, SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.
Stone sat down heavily at her desk, found her phone book and her sister’s number. He broke the news as gently as he could and said he’d be glad to see to the arrangements. The woman thanked him and
said that her brother-in-law was a mortician and she’d have him take care of it. Stone expressed his condolences and told the woman how loyal and valuable Alma had been to him and how much he would miss her. Finally, he was able to hang up, drained from the experience. The phone rang almost immediately.
“Stone Barrington,” he said.
“Morning, Stone, it’s Frank Maddox,” a man’s voice said. Maddox was the attorney for the insurance company Stone was suing.
“Yes, Frank?”
“My client has authorized me to offer your client half a million dollars.”
“Unacceptable,” Stone said. He had already thought out his strategy in responding to an offer. “I’m ready to go to trial.” He was anything but ready, he thought. “I’ll pass your offer on to my client, but with a strong recommendation that it be rejected.”
Maddox sighed. “What’s it going to take, Stone? Give me a realistic number, and I’ll go back to my client.”
“It’s going to take a million dollars, plus a three-hundred-thousand-dollar attorney’s fee, and that’s bottom line, Frank. Don’t bother with a counteroffer; just show up in court tomorrow.”
“Hold on, Stone.” Maddox punched the HOLD button.
Stone waited. Maddox was obviously with his client.
Shortly, the lawyer came back on. “Done,” he said.
“I’ll want your check by close of business today,” Stone said. “I’m not canceling our court date until the money is in the bank.”
“I think I can arrange that,” Maddox said. “I’ll messenger it over to your office this afternoon.”
“Send it to Bill Eggers at Woodman and Weld,” Stone said. “I may be out this afternoon, and my secretary isn’t in today.”
“Fine; I’ll include the usual release.” Maddox hung up.