“Sure, Stone. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Stone took a minute to bring Griggs up to date on what he had learned that evening.
Griggs nodded as he heard the story. “So, if Bartlett is Manning, and if he killed his wife for her money, he has committed a crime, after all. We’d have grounds for an arrest.”
“I think you’d have to have a long talk with the Minneapolis police department before we’d know about that,” Stone said. “After all, if they’d suspected him, they’d probably have already arrested him.”
“Good point,” Griggs admitted.
“We may be able to confirm his identity anyway,” Stone said. “Callie, the glass?”
Callie removed the liqueur glass from her purse and set it on the table.
Stone picked it up by the stem and held it against the light. “There’s at least one good print on here,” he said.
Griggs picked up the phone and pressed a couple of buttons. “Sam, it’s Griggs,” he said. “I want you to lift some prints from a drinking glass and run them through the computer.” He hung up, and almost immediately, a detective came into the room, took the glass and went away with it.
“Well,” Stone said, rising, “let me know what results you get.”
“Hang on,” Griggs said. “This won’t take as long as you think.” He got up and left the office for a few minutes, then returned. “A good right thumbprint and two partials,” he said. “My guy is running them through the FBI computer now. Come on, let’s go see what he comes up with.”
Stone and Callie followed Griggs down a hallway to another office, where the detective was sitting at a computer.
“Got anything yet, Sam?” Griggs asked.
Sam hit the return key and sat back. “Shouldn’t take long,” he said. “Hang on,” he said, “what’s this?”
The group walked around the computer and looked over the detective’s shoulder. The screen displayed a message:
ACCESS TO THIS FILE DENIED.
ENTRY REQUIRES APPROVAL
AT DIRECTOR LEVEL
UNDER PROTOCOL 1002.
“You ever seen anything like that before, Sam?”
“No, Chief, I haven’t.”
“What’s protocol ten-oh-two?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Sam said.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Griggs muttered.
“I’d really like to know that,” Stone replied.
24
THE NEXT MORNING, STONE CALLED DINO. “HOW ARE you?”
“Not bad. Where the hell are you now?”
“In Palm Beach.”
“You rotten bastard.”