Lucid Intervals (Stone Barrington 18)

“I’m not listening,” Dino said.

“You may listen,” Felicity replied. “In fact, you may even be of help. Go on, Stone.”

“My guy has gotten access to the security tapes at the Seagram Building on or around the dates you gave us,” Stone said. “We’ll review them tomorrow.”

“Good thought,” she said. “What else?”

“One of my guys also mentioned an Englishman’s love of his tailor, and it seems likely that he’s still having his clothes made.”

“A very good possibility,” Felicity said. “My father practically went into mourning when his tailor died.”

“We’re looking at New York tailors who make English-style suits.”

“Very good.”

“Since Dino can listen now, may I show him the photo?”

“Better yet, I’ll give him a copy,” Felicity said, opening her briefcase and handing the picture to Dino.

“Who’s the guy?” Dino asked.

Stone explained. “Do you have access to the FBI’s facial comparison program?”

“I can manage that,” Dino said.

“I’m sure Felicity would appreciate it if you’d run that photograph. Who knows, maybe we’ll get a match.”

“It’s twelve years old,” Felicity reminded him.

“Ask them if they can age him twelve years,” Stone said.

“Okay.”

“And ask them to give him a nose job, too.”

“Yeah, that’s quite a honker,” Dino said, looking at the man’s profile.

Felicity laughed. “Yes, it is quite a honker.”

“There’s something else I have to tell you,” Stone said to Felicity, “which is unrelated to your work.”

“And what might that be?” She took a sip of her Rob Roy.

“A woman has been hanging around across the street from my house for… a while.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said.

“The thing is, she’s dangerous.”

“And what makes her dangerous?”

“Mental illness and a considerable facility with a knife.”

“An unattractive combination,” Felicity said. “What does she look like?”

“Like a Sicilian princess,” Stone said.

“That’s a good description,” Dino agreed. “It’s also what she is, right to the bone.”