Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“It’s Bacchetti, Cap. We’ve got what looks like a political assassination on Park Avenue, diplomat from one of the UN embassies, Arab.”

“Aw, shit,” the captain said.

“My sentiments exactly. I told my guys to call the Feds after they’ve worked the scene. I’d appreciate a call to the ME to get the autopsy done before they yank the body out of our hands.”

“Will do. You need any help?”

“I think we’ve got it covered. I’ve told the team to clear the scene as soon as possible. We’ve already got traffic moving on Park again, should anybody ask.”

“You got any theories yet?”

“Could have something to do with this lady assassin the Brits are all hot about,” Dino replied. “I’ll look into that.”

“Good man. Call me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

Dino’s car drew up in front of his building, and he went upstairs. His son, Ben, was lying on his belly in Dino’s study in front of the TV, apparently making a stab at his homework. “Hey, kiddo,” Dino said, ruffling his hair. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Math,” Ben said.

“Do it in your room, okay? I gotta make some calls.”

Mary Ann came into the room wearing an apron dotted with red sauce. She kissed him firmly on the lips. “You’re home for dinner? Good God!”

“Don’t gimme a hard time,” he said, kissing her again.

“How was Saint Thomas?”

“Awful. I had to sleep on a goddamned boat last night, got about two hours. I’m beat.”

“Have a drink, that’ll help. Dinner’s in an hour.”

Dino poured himself a stiff Scotch and sat down in his favorite chair. He picked up the phone and called Stone, got an answering machine. “Call me,” he said, and hung up. He tried Stone’s cell phone and got a recorded message. “What the fuck?” he muttered to himself. He found his phone book and looked up the Connecticut number.

“Hello?” Stone said.

“What are you doing up there?” Dino asked.

“Hiding Carpenter.”

“What’s the latest on La Biche?”

“She got a late flight to London last night, and this morning murdered another passenger and took her ID. The Brits lost her.”

“So she’s not in the city?”

“Who knows? Carpenter says she wouldn’t be surprised if she doubled back. Why do you ask?”

“An Arab guy got himself popped on Park Avenue an hour ago,” Dino said. “Two or three in the head, no noise.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Could be our girl.”

“Let’s not jump to that conclusion. Could have been an irritated Israeli. That situation is hot right now.”

“We’ll look at that, too. Tell Carpenter to call me if she wants to talk, and I’d like to hear anything she has about what her people think.”