Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“Because I live in Miami. My address is on the license.”

“Why are you in New York?”

“Because I heard what a lot of fun the police are here.”

Stone looked at Dino and shook his head. “It’s not Marie-Thérèse.”

“I could be, if you wanted me to,” the woman said. “Are we done here?”

“Yes,” Dino said, handing back her handbag. “I’m sorry to have detained you. We’re usually nicer to out-of-town visitors.”

“You still could be,” the woman said. “I’ve no objection to two dates. Who’s buying the drinks?”

“Perhaps another time,” Stone said.

She handed him a card. “I’m at the Plaza for two more days. Anytime at all.” She looked at Dino. “And be sure to bring your friend.” She continued walking uptown.

“Well,” Dino remarked, “I said you would be the one to get lucky.”

“Looks like we both did,” Stone said.

Dino went back across the street, and they continued their walk downtown, inspecting every woman they encountered. Once, Dino showed his badge and asked a woman for ID, then she continued uptown, apparently livid.

At Seventy-second Street, they met the four detectives coming the other way, and Dino’s car caught up with them.

“Why do I think she was going uptown?” Dino asked.

“Because she was walking away from the Four Seasons,” Stone replied.

“What’s uptown from Seventy-third?” Dino asked.

“A couple of hotels: the Westbury and the Carlyle.”

“It’s worth a try,” Dino said. “You four guys take the Westbury. Get the manager to give you a list of every single woman staying in the hotel and question every one of them who even remotely matches the description. Stone, you and I will take the Carlyle.” They got into Dino’s car and started uptown.

“This isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Stone said. “She’s got to be sleeping somewhere, and the Carlyle is about the last place you’d look.”

“The worst idea I ever had was showing up with you in Bryant Park yesterday,” Dino said.

The car stopped, and they got out.

“You know anybody here?” Dino asked, as they went in through the Madison Avenue entrance of the hotel.

“The manager,” Stone replied. “He won’t be here this time of night, but I can drop his name.”

“Never mind, I’ll just drop my badge,” Dino replied as they approached the front desk.

Stone’s cell phone vibrated, and he flipped it open. “Hello?”

“It’s Carpenter,” she said.

52

Stone was surprised how glad he was to hear from her.

“Where are you?”

“With the director of the FBI at a government flat in the Waldorf Towers.”