Dirt (Stone Barrington 2)

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to drive you.”

“Then let’s go.” He waved for the check, paid the bill, and they took a cab uptown to Arrington’s garage. Twenty mi

nutes later they were in Arrington’s Jeep Grand Cherokee, on their way.

When they arrived at Amanda’s country house, a state police car was parked out front, and two uniformed troopers were leaving.

Stone got out of the car and handed them his card. “I’m Stone Barrington; I’m Mrs. Dart’s attorney.”

“I’m Captain Quentin,” one of them said. “This is Sergeant Travis.”

Stone shook their hands. “Can you tell me what’s happened?”

“Mrs. Dart said she phoned you.”

“That’s right, but she was pretty shaken up, and I’d like to know what you’ve learned.”

“The two women went for a walk up to Steep Rock, took a picnic lunch. According to Mrs. Dart they had lunch, drank a bottle of wine between the two of them. Miss McMahon got up to stretch her legs, wandered too close to the edge of the bluff, and fell.”

“Is she dead?”

“Yes. Her body finished up a couple of miles downriver, at a weir. It’s being taken to the state morgue in Hartford for an autopsy, but I don’t think there’s much doubt about the cause of death. For now we’re calling it an alcohol-related accident.”

“Is it absolutely necessary to report alcohol-related on this? Mrs. Dart is a very well-known person, and her reputation might suffer. From what you’ve told me she has no culpability; it was an accident, after all.”

“I can leave it out of my initial written report, but the final determination will be made by the medical examiner. It will depend on the blood alcohol level.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Stone said. He shook the men’s hands. “Is there any reason why Mrs. Dart can’t return to New York when she’s ready?”

“None at all; we have her phone number in the city if we need to get in touch with her.”

“If you need to speak with her, I’d appreciate it if you’d call me,” Stone said.

“Sure. Good afternoon.”

The two men left, and Stone opened the front door. “Amanda?” he called out.

“I’m in the kitchen,” she called back.

They left their coats in a hall closet and went to the kitchen, where Amanda was washing and putting away dishes, apparently from the picnic. She showed only a trace of surprise at seeing Arrington.

“You remember Arrington,” Stone said. “We were having lunch when you called, and she offered to drive me up here.”

Amanda shook her hand. “How very kind of you, Arrington.”

“How are you feeling?” Stone asked.

“Still shocked, and very sad, of course. Would either of you like a drink? I’m having one.”

Everybody took a drink into the living room.

“I talked with the troopers as they were leaving,” Stone said. “It doesn’t sound as though there’s going to be any kind of problem. What might get into the papers is that the accident was alcohol-related. They’ve agreed not to report it that way, but the medical examiner in Hartford will have the final say, and we can’t influence him.”

“I understand,” Amanda said.

“Do you want me to notify Martha’s family?” Stone asked.