Wild Card (Stone Barrington #49)(48)

“Would you like something to drink, Elise?” Stone asked.

“Thank you, I’d like a bourbon and Diet Coke.”

Stone winced, but made the drink and handed it to her. “A friend of mine, Jamie Cox, is on the phone. I’d like her to hear our conversation, if that’s all right.”

“The woman who wrote that big piece in the Times?”

“That’s the one.”

“It’s fine.” She took a swig of her bourbon and Diet Coke.

“Now,” Stone said, “for Jamie’s benefit, your name is Elise Grant, is that correct?”

“Yes.” She spelled it for them.

“May I ask your age, Elise?”

“Twenty-four.”

“And you work for H. Thomas & Son?”

“I do.”

“How long have you worked there?”

“Almost two years. I started downstairs in accounting, then I got a promotion to legal, then I got moved upstairs to the executive offices about eight months ago.”

“Who do you work for there?”

“There are five of us on the floor, and we all work for whoever needs us: Mr. Henry Thomas—he’s the old one; his grandson, Hank Thomas, who used to be a congressman; and a relative—I’m not exactly sure how they’re related, but he’s family—Lawrance Damien. They call him Rance. Old Mr. Thomas’s son, Jack, shot himself in the office, though I’ve always thought Rance had something to do with it.”

“That’s very interesting,” Stone said. “We’ll come back to that. Do you often overhear conversations among these three men?”

“All the time. You see, my grandparents came to this country when my mother was three years old. Grandpapa died when I was six, so I was raised by my mother and grandmother, and they always spoke Sicilian around the house. I didn’t put the language on my employment application because I thought nobody spoke it, except in my family.”

“Do the Thomases often speak in Sicilian?”

“Yes, whenever they don’t want anyone to know what they’re talking about, like earlier today.”

“And you were there?”

“Yes. Old Mr. Thomas asked me to take a letter after they were done and to sit down and wait, so I heard their entire conversation.”

“What did they talk about?” Stone asked.

“About killing you and Bob and Sherry. Oh, and about trying to kill Ms. Cox, in the ladies’ room.”

“Holy shit,” Dino muttered, the first time he had spoken.

“Yes, that’s pretty much what I thought, too,” Elise said, “but I managed to keep a straight face. It was the first time I heard that Sherry was still alive. She took some time off, and they sent her someplace in Maine, and none of us heard from her again. I thought they had done her in.”

“Is that how you learned that she was in the hospital?”

“That’s exactly how.”

Dino spoke up again, but in Sicilian. “Can you tell me what they said in Sicilian?”

Elise laid out their conversation.

“Thank you, that’s good,” Dino said. “She speaks very good Sicilian, so she won’t have got it wrong. Elise, please repeat what you just said, in English, for the benefit of the uneducated present.”

Elise laughed, then recounted the conversation in English.

“Holy shit,” Jamie said over the phone.



* * *



? ? ?

For two hours, they questioned Elise, and she happily told them everything she knew. They broke for dinner, and Dino sat next to her.

“Elise,” he said, “would you keep doing what you’re doing? And report it back to us?”

“You mean, like a spy?” she asked.

“We call it a confidential informant, and you’ll be paid for your efforts.”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Dino,” Bob Cantor interjected, “I think it’s better if Elise plants some bugs for us and we record everything. It’s safer for her, and we’ll have a record that she can confirm.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Dino said, “and I don’t hear things like that, unless I have a warrant in my hands.” He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”

Stone stood also. “I’ll see Dino out,” he said, and they both left the room.

“I have some equipment that will work,” Bob said, undeterred.

“Bob,” Elise said, “they have some experts come in about once a week to sweep the place. Won’t they find your equipment?”

“I’ll set it up so that you can turn the bugs on and off with an app on your iPhone. That way, when you know the sweepers are coming, you can switch them off. They won’t be detected because the equipment is not broadcasting.”

“That sounds good,” she said.

“Also, the bugs will have to be replaced every three days, since that’s as long as the batteries last.”

“Okay,” she said.

“You’ll want to be very sure that you aren’t seen replacing them.”

“I’ll do it at lunch. Almost everybody goes out, but I usually have a sandwich at my desk.”