New York Dead (Stone Barrington 1)

“Well, Barron’s a little self-important,” she said, “but nobody does this better.”

“Read the news?”

She laughed again. “Oh, come on, now, he’s reported from all over the world; he doesn’t just read.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

The newscast ended, and she led Stone out another door and down a spiral staircase to the newsroom set. A dozen people were working at computer terminals.

“They’re already getting the eleven o’clock news together,” Cary said.

Barron Harkness was having the last of his makeup removed. He stood up and shook Stone’s hand firmly. “Detective,” he said.

To Stone’s surprise, Harkness was at least six four, two twenty, and flat bellied. He looked shorter and fleshier on camera.

“Come on, let’s go up to my office,” Harkness said.

They climbed another spiral staircase, entered a hallway, and turned into Harkness’s office, a large, comfortably furnished room with a big picture window looking down into the newsroom. Harkness waved Stone to a leather sofa. “Coffee? I’m having some.”

“Thank you, yes,” Stone said. He could use it; he fought off the lassitude caused by the bourbon and the newscast.

Cary Hilliard disappeared without being told, then came back with a Thermos and two cups. Both men watched her pour, then she took a seat in a chair to one side of Harkness’s desk and opened a steno pad. “You don’t mind if I take notes?” she asked Stone.

“Not at all,” he replied. “Forgive me if I don’t take any; I remember better if I do it later.” He turned to Harkness. “Mr. Harkness-”

“Please call me Barron; I’d be more comfortable. And your first name?”

“Stone.”

“A hard name,” he said, smiling slightly.

“I’ll try not to be too hard on you.”

“Where is Sasha Nijinsky? What hospital?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any information on that.”

Harkness’s eyebrows went up. “I understood you were in charge of this investigation.”

“That’s nominally so, but I’m not the only investigator on the case, and I don’t have all the information.” That wasn’t strictly true; he did have all the information there was; there just wasn’t much.

“I trust somebody knows what hospital she’s in. Certainly nobody at the network does.”

“I expect somebody knows where she is,” Stone said. “I understand you were traveling last night?”

“Yes, from Rome. I expect you’ve already checked that out.”

“What time did you arrive at Kennedy?”

“Four thirty or five.”

Stone nodded. “Mr. Harkness, did Sasha Nijinsky have any enemies?”

Unexpectedly, Harkness broke into laughter. “Are you kidding? Sasha climbed over half the people at the network to get where she is, and the other half are scared shitless of her.”

“I see. Did any of them hate her enough to try to kill her?”

“Probably. In my experience, lots of people kill who have less cause than Sasha’s victims.”