Stone Barrington 06-11

expanse of inner thigh. “I’m here,” she said, placing her hand on his.
    Stone took her hand. “I’ve got to explain your situation to you,” he said, “and you’re going to have to take what I tell you seriously.”
    She withdrew her hand. “All right, go ahead.”
    “I’ve retained a criminal trial lawyer to represent you, a man named Marc Blumberg.”
    “I know him a little,” Arrington said. “His wife is in my yoga class. But why do I need a criminal lawyer?”
    “Because there’s a good possibility that you may be charged with Vance’s murder.”
    “But that’s ridiculous!” she said. “Utter nonsense!”
    “I know it is, but you have to understand how the police work. They suspect you, because you were the only one in the house when Vance was shot.”
    “Except the murderer,” she said.
    “They think you hid the gun somewhere in the house, and they’re over there right now with a search warrant.”
    “Suppose they find it? What then?”
    “Then they’ll check it for your fingerprints.”
    “Complete nonsense.”
    “What I’m trying to tell you is that you have to be prepared to be arrested and charged.”
    “You mean go to jail?”
    “It’s possible that, in such a case, bail could be denied by a judge, and you’d have to remain in custody until the trial was over.”
    “Oh, God,” she said, bringing both hands to her face, “I don’t think I could take that.”
    “Blumberg is exploring every possible option as to bail, and you might have to raise a very large sum of money. Are you acquainted enough with Vance’s financial affairs to know whether that would be readily available?”
    “I only know that Vance was very well off. I mean, we lived splendidly, as you know, but I never took an interest in his finances, and he never sat me down and explained things to me.”
    “I’m going to be calling his lawyer and accountant to discuss things with them. I’ll know more after that, and I can explain your situation to you then.” Stone thought for a moment. “Do you know if Vance had any life insurance?” He felt very sneaky asking this, but he wanted to know her answer.
    “I’ve no idea,” she replied. “My assumption is that he was rich enough not to need life insurance.”
    Stone breathed a little easier. “Did you have a joint bank account?”
    “Yes, but I had my own account. Vance put money into it as necessary. There was a household account that Betty paid all our bills from—she signed the checks on that one—and we had the joint account, which Vance used pretty much as his own; I almost never signed checks on that one. I don’t know what other accounts he had, because all that sort of mail went to his office, not to the house.”
    “Do you have any idea how much cash you have immediately available?”
    “Vance put twenty-five thousand dollars in my account a few days before he was killed, and I probably had five or six thousand dollars in there already. So, thirty thousand, maybe? I’ve no idea what the joint account balance is.”
    “I’ll check into that,” Stone said. He took a deep breath. “There’s something I have to ask you, Arrington, and I want the straightest answer you can give me.”
    “Shoot.”
    “Did you ever tell anyone that you were considering killing Vance?”
    “Of course not!”
    “Something else, and this is even more important. I have to know this: Do you think that it is within the realm of possiblity that, during the time you can’t remember, you and Vance had such a serious fight that you might have killed him?”
    “Absolutely not!” she cried. “How can you even ask? Don’t you know me any better than that?”
    “As a lawyer I sometimes have to ask unpleasant questions, even of people I know very well.”
    She moved across the sofa, her dressing gown falling open, and put her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him. “Oh, Stone, I’m so afraid,” she said. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”
    Stone could feel the familiar contours of her body against him. He should have pushed her away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “I’m here for as long as you need me,” he said, stroking her hair.
    They remained like that for what seemed a long time; she took his face in her hands and kissed him.
    Then the doorbell began to ring repeatedly, and someone was knocking loudly.

Eighteen

    S TONE OPENED THE DOOR. A STEELY-LOOKING MAN IN his sixties, carrying a large case stood on the