Hit List (Stone Barrington #53)(37)

“I was speaking figuratively,” Stone said.

“Yeah, but there was nothing figurative about her,” Dino said. “I can’t wait until we find out who she is. I’ll bet we clear a few more murders.”

“There aren’t all that many female pros working,” Stone said. “I can remember us busting only one.”

“Yeah, I remember that one, too. She was some goombah’s girlfriend. She was playing a waitress at some joint downtown when these two guys came in. She opened a bottle of wine, and while one of them was tasting it, she put a round in both their heads.”

“Who can miss at eighteen inches?” Stone commented.

“Still, it took guts. She was cool.”

Their steaks arrived, and Dino dug in.

Stone stared at his, then tried a french fry.

“What’s the matter?” Dino asked. “Something wrong with your steak?”

“It’s fine, I’m just not hungry.” He flagged down a waiter and asked him to wrap up his food.

“Yeah,” Dino said. “I guess I’d be off my feed, too, if I’d just shot somebody.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Stone said. “You’d be halfway through your steak by now.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t let it come between me and a steak.”

Stone sipped a little of his wine. “What do I do next?” he asked.

“I think your suggestions were helpful,” Dino said. “We stand a better chance, now.”

“Larkin has the advantage, still,” Stone pointed out. “We don’t know when or where he’s coming from next time.”

“There’s always that,” Dino said. “I’ll have a quiet word with my people and make sure he takes one in the head.”

“Good idea,” Stone said.

Dino finished his steak and ordered espresso. Stone stuck with his wine, but not much of it. Dino got the check, and the waiter brought Stone’s steak, wrapped to go.

They got up and headed for the door. “Me first,” Dino said. “I’ll have a good look around.”

Stone didn’t argue with him.





30


Stone walked into the hospital through the ER door, where he knew one or two people. He snagged a nurse. “Beth, there’s a Jane Doe who just got out of surgery. You got a room number?”

“Four oh seven,” Beth replied, “but she’ll be in the ICU right now. If you’re looking to get laid, Stone, she’s helpless.”

“Gee, thanks.” He made his way upstairs and waved his badge at the cop in a chair in the hallway. “Anybody in there with her?” he asked.

“Nope,” the cop replied. “They wheeled her into the ICU maybe twenty minutes ago. There’s just the nurse on duty.”

Stone knew that nurse, too, from when he had been a patient.

“Well, look who’s here,” she said, smiling.

“Hey, Carol.”

“I’ll bet you’re looking for our Jane Doe, aren’t you?”

“You betcha. Is she awake yet?”

“She’s stirring; I’ll turn up her oxygen a bit.” She did so.

Stone pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. The woman’s eyelids fluttered. She looked to be in her late thirties, probably good-looking when fixed up. He hadn’t looked at her face when he had shot her. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Mrs. Larkin, I presume. Good afternoon,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m told Sig is on his way.”

She tried to say something and failed.

He leaned in close. His ears were still ringing from the gunshot. “Yes?”

“Go fuck yourself,” she managed to say, then smiled a little.

“Sorry about the bullet in your chest,” he said, “but you were trying to put one in mine.”

She licked her lips and tried to speak, but failed.

Stone took a glass of water from the side table and fed her the glass straw.

“That’s better,” she said. “Go fuck yourself.”

“I guess you’re not accustomed to your victims walking and talking,” Stone said.

She smiled again. “Maybe next time.”

“Well,” he said, “there’s not going to be a next time. I expect you’re going to do serious time.”

“Where’s my dog?” she asked softly.

“Oh, he’s up at the pound. I expect he’ll be adopted before the day’s out, he’s so cute.”

Something like anger wrinkled her face. “He’s not for adoption,” she said.

“I’m afraid there’s no way to establish your ownership,” Stone said, “since you won’t give a name and an address. That’s the minimum required. What’s your first name?”

“Frances,” she said, to Stone’s surprise. “Last name and address? I’ll phone the pound.”

“Frances Larkin, at . . .”

“Edison Hotel.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do. They’ll need an apartment or a house. Oh, and a phone number, too.”

“Where’s my bag?”