Lucid Intervals (Stone Barrington 18)

“I’m still here. I didn’t know the two dossiers had the same photo. I assure you that the photo you saw on my dossier was of me. I can’t answer for Tim’s dossier, because I never saw it. Where on earth did they find it?”

“At a storage facility for old records.”

“Was there anything of interest found in it?” Hackett asked.

“What would you expect to be found in it?”

“I’ve no idea what’s in it,” Hackett replied, “and I’m very surprised that there would be any interest in Tim’s dossier.”

“Why not? He was your partner,” Stone pointed out.

“I suppose I should have expected that.”

“Jim,” Stone said, “are you Stanley Whitestone?”

Something like a sigh could be heard down the long tunnel. “Stone, I won’t lie to you, but I can’t answer that question now. Perhaps later, I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to accept that I can’t answer you. I’m going to have to go now.”

“Jim, is it possible for me to contact you if I need to?”

“No, I’m afraid not. If you have something important to tell me, you’ll have to wait for me to call you again. Good-bye.” Hackett hung up.

Stone hung up and walked back into the bedroom, where Felicity was waiting for him, sitting up in bed, reading something from her briefcase.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“A client.”

“Do clients often call you at this hour?”

“Sometimes. I can’t refuse to speak to a client, whatever the hour may be.”

“Was it Hackett?” she asked.

“Go to sleep,” Stone said, kissing her on the cheek.

She closed the file, put it back into her briefcase, reset the combination lock, then switched off her bedside lamp.

“You’re fired,” she said. “I hope that will make it easier for you to deal with this.”

“Maybe it will,” Stone said, switching off his lamp.

STONE WOKE UP later than usual, and Felicity was gone. She had left a note on the bed, saying that she would meet him for dinner at Elaine’s.

Stone showered, shaved, dressed and went down to his office, where Helene brought him a light breakfast at his desk.

Joan buzzed him. “Mr. Fisher to see you.”

Stone sighed. “Send him in.”

Herbie came in and sat down. “It’s going very well with Stephanie,” he said. “I may have to get you to do a prenup yet.”

“Herbie, slow down,” Stone said. “You’re going to have to learn to restrain yourself sometimes if you’re ever going to grow up.”

“You think I’m not grown up?”