New York Dead

concentrating on the salad. “I never had much memory for handwriting.”
    “I didn’t expect this.”
    “Expect what? You expect me to recommend reopening the investigation based on this?” He tossed the letter back across the table.
    “I didn’t expect you to stonewall me.”
    “I ain’t stonewalling you, Stone. You come up with something substantial, and I’ll go with you on it.”
    “Substantial? A letter from a dead woman isn’t substantial?”
    “Where was it mailed?”
    “Penn Station.”
    “Any prints? I know you checked.”
    Stone held the plastic holder at an angle and pointed. “Three. Will you run them against what we found in her apartment?”
    Dino looked skeptical, then shrugged. “Okay, I’ll do that. It may take a few days; the records have probably left the precinct.”
    “As soon as you can. And will you have the handwriting analyzed?”
    “Against what?”
    “The diary, the other stuff in evidence.”
    “The case has been cleared. I expect all that stuff has gone back to her estate, to her family, by now.”
    “Dino, if I can get a good analysis done, and the prints turn out to be hers, will that be enough for you to reopen?”
    “Tell you the truth, I don’t know. I’d have to go to Delgado; he’d have to go to Waldron; he might even have to go to the mayor. The thing is, even if an analyst says it’s her handwriting, even if the prints are hers, what have we got to go on? We can’t trace the letter. It looks like pretty ordinary stationery to me; it was mailed in the biggest post office in the city. What could we do?” “We’d know she’s alive.” He pushed the letter back across the table. “That’s a start.”
    Dino laughed and shook his head. “You still got a hair up your ass about that, ain’t you? All that crap about cats bouncing off concrete and walking away. You know, if
I
had come to
you
with that kind of a theory, you’d have kicked my ass.” Stone laughed. “I don’t know, Dino, I think I’d have given your idea a hearing.”
    “I gave your idea a hearing,” Dino said.
    “For about fifteen seconds.”
    “That was all I needed.”
    “Okay, okay, but will you have the lab look at the paper and anything else they can find?”
    “All right, but I’ll have to get somebody to do it on his own time. If word got around about this, I’d be pounding a beat, pronto.”
    “Thanks, Dino.”
    “I’ll owe somebody a favor, too.”
    “I’ll owe you one.”
    They paused outside the restaurant.
    “One forty-five, Sunday, at the church?” Dino said. “You got the address?”
    “I’ve got it.”
    “Tuxedo. I’ll pick up the rental.”
    “I own one.”
    “We’re coming up in the world, aren’t we?”
    “I’ve actually used it a couple of times. A firm party, that sort of thing.”
    “I’ll see if I can have something for you on the letter by then. Otherwise, it’ll have to wait till after the honeymoon.”
    “Where you going?”
    “Vegas — where else?”
    “Sounds great. I’ll see you Sunday.”
    “You ever been to an Italian wedding?”
    “No.”
    “You got an experience coming.”
    Dino turned out to be right.

Chapter
41

    Frank Woodman was at his desk, dictating something into a recorder, but, when he saw Stone at the door, he waved him in. “How are you, Stone?” he said, pointing at a chair.
    Stone sat down. “I’m fine, Frank. There’s something I want to ask you about.”
    “First,” Woodman said, “there’s something I want to say to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t seek you out and say it sooner. Stone, only Bill Eggers, Charlotte Harkness, and I have seen that tape, and I’m the only one who knows you knew Cary Hilliard. I want you to know that it won’t go any further than that.” Stone nodded. He couldn’t think of anything to say.
    “You did a fine job for us, and I’m sorry the result had to cause you pain.”
    “Thank you, Frank.”
    “Enough said about that. What can I do for you?”
    “I was wondering if you have the effects of Sasha Nijinsky that the NYPD took.”
    “They sent them back to me a couple of weeks ago. After going through them myself, I sent them to Sasha’s father.”
    “I see.”
    “Why? Did you want to see them again?”
    “Yes, I wanted to get a look at her handwriting again.”
    “Why?”
    Stone handed Woodman a copy of the letter.
    Woodman read it through twice, and his expression revealed nothing. “What do you make of this?” he asked at last.
    “I’m not