D.C. Dead (Stone Barrington 22)

Dino shook his head. “We were at a dinner party the other night where everybody at the table seemed to know most of it. But Charlotte would have been the only person who knew about her story.”

“Let’s go see Charlotte Kirby,” Stone said. “Where’s the FBI file? Her address is in there.”

“On the coffee table,” Dino said, reaching for the phone. “I want some breakfast first, and I need a shave and a shower.”

“So do I,” Stone said.

Holly went into the bedroom, then called out, “Your cell is ringing again.”

Stone went back into the bedroom and answered it.

“This is the White House operator,” a woman’s voice said. “Will you speak to the first lady?”

“Of course,” Stone said.

“Stone?” Kate Lee said.

“Mrs. Lee, I know why you’re calling.”

“I should think you do. What on earth is going on?”

Stone looked at Holly; he needed to hand off this call.

“I’m not here,” Holly whispered.

“We haven’t found out yet, but we’re working on it. May I call you back later today, when I should know more?”

“Oh, all right,” she said, “but it had better be good.” The first lady hung up.

“Oh, shit,” Stone said. He sat down on the bed and put his face in his hands.

41

DINO DROVE, WHILE STONE WORKED THE CAR’S NAVIGATOR and Holly sat in the rear seat. The sexy woman’s voice directed them, turn by turn, to a pleasant street in Arlington, Virginia.

“Uh-oh,” Holly said, “look up ahead.”

There were two large vans parked on the street in front of a nice split-level house, and there were half a dozen other cars, as well. The lawn was populated with men and women with cameras, microphones, and notebooks. “Oh, Jesus,” Stone said.

“Pull over here,” Holly said, when they were three or four houses away.

“Aren’t we going in?” Stone asked.

“Are you kidding? After that story in the papers this morning, every reporter here has a photo of you and Dino in his pocket. You’d be manufacturing a whole new headline.”

“I see your point,” Stone said.

“Further to my point,” Holly said, “they don’t have a photo of me in their pockets, and I’m not going to give them the opportunity to take one.”

“So, what do we do?” Dino asked.

“Just sit tight for a minute,” Holly said, taking out her cell phone and dialing a number. When it was answered, she identified herself. “I need a street cleaned, and right now,” she said. She gave the address of Charlotte Kirby’s house. “Two TV vans, half a dozen cars, and a dozen reporters and technicians. Soonest. And I want the street blocked for the rest of the day, except for identified residents.” She hung up. “It’ll be a few minutes,” she said.

“You can do that?” Dino asked. “Block a street and throw out the media?”

“Let’s just say someone can do it,” Holly replied. “You and I don’t need to know whom.”

“Who,” Stone said drily.