New York Dead (Stone Barrington 1)

“Wait a minute, Herb,” Stone said quickly. “We have more to talk about.”

“Do you think you can refrain from referring to past unpleasantness?”

“Oh, yes. I’m terribly sorry about that; it was rude of me.”

Van Fleet dragged a stool over and sat down facing Stone. “All right, what would you like to talk about?”

“Tell me about the night Sasha fell from her balcony.”

“Oh, that. I’ve told you about taking her from the wreck of the ambulance. Before that, well, I left Elaine’s a bit after you did, I guess, and, on the way home, I thought I’d drop by Sasha’s building. I often did that on the way home, just to catch a glimpse of where she lived. When I turned into the block, I could see the doorman through the glass front of the building. He was asleep in a chair, and I saw somebody walk right past him into the building, and he never woke up.

“I found that very interesting, so I parked the van and went into the building. I just walked right past him, and he never turned a hair. I took the elevator up to the twelfth floor – I knew Sasha’s apartment number from my research – and, to my surprise, her door was open. I had just planned to leave a little present and go, but there was that open door. I couldn’t resist.

“I crept into the apartment, and I could hear these angry voices from out on the terrace. I peeped out there, and she and this other person were having a knock-down, drag-out fight, and, all of a sudden, Sasha was just dumped over the railing.

“I jumped back behind the door, and I could hear this other person rummaging around the room, looking for something, I guess. That went on for a minute, then I heard the elevator start up, and I guess the… well, the murderer heard it too, and ran. I heard the fire stairs door open, then the elevator door open, and I heard somebody running down the stairs.

“I peeped out the door, and the doorman was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down, so I just popped into the open elevator and rode down. I got out on the second floor and tiptoed down the stairs. When I saw you get back into the elevator, I left the building, got into the van, and drove around the block to where Sasha was. The ambulance arrived about that time, and I followed it. I wanted to see which hospital Sasha was being taken to, so I could send flowers.

“Then, wham! That fire truck came out of nowhere, and the ambulance got hit. You know the rest.”

“Herb, who threw Sasha off the balcony?”

Van Fleet shrugged. “Nobody I knew,” he said.

“Can you describe him?” Stone asked.

Van Fleet started to speak, then stopped. “No, I don’t think I will,” he said petulantly. “You were unkind enough to bring up the past, so I don’t think you deserve to know, at least not yet. Later, if you’re nice, you can bring it up at dinner, and maybe I’ll tell you.” Van Fleet stood up, reached down, and picked up his case. He set it on the stool, opened it, and took out a large scalpel. “Don’t worry, I’m very good at this; it’ll be absolutely painless, I promise.”

Stone had thought about dying before, but never in such close proximity to the event. Would his whole life flash before his eyes? Would it be less painful if he just relaxed and let it happen? He discovered he could not give in to it; he would go down fighting, with what meager resources he had left. “Wait a minute, Herb!” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“You can tell me at the dinner table,” Van Fleet said, sliding his hand under Stone’s chin and pulling it up to extend his neck.

Stone jerked his head free. “It’s about Sasha!” he said, and watched Van Fleet’s face.

Van Fleet showed interest. “What about Sasha?”

“Something you don’t know about her, something important. I wouldn’t want to say this in front of her at the table.”

“What is it?”

“You like guys, don’t you, Herb?”

“What do you mean?” Van Fleet replied indignantly. “I’m no queer. I like women.”

“What about your relationship with the men at the table?” Stone asked.

“You have a filthy mind,” Van Fleet said. “I have no kind of relationship with anybody at the table. Except Sasha, of course. We have a perfectly normal sex life.”

Perfectly normal? Stone laughed aloud. “Come on, Herb, you’re as queer as a three-dollar bill.” Words were all Stone had left to fight with, and he was at least going to get in a few punches before this maniac slaughtered him.

“That’s a lie!”

“Then why do you think you like fucking Sasha so much?”

“Sasha’s a woman, you idiot,” Van Fleet said. “We have a heterosexual relationship!”

“Sasha’s not a woman, Herbert. I found out. When she was born in Russia, her parents named her Vladimir, because she was a boy. They raised her as a girl, though, and, when she was twelve, she had a sex-change operation in Morocco!”