Stone Barrington 06-11

the pillow from her face. She checked for a pulse, then listened at her chest for a heartbeat. Nothing. She untied Ginger’s hands and released the belt from her feet. She went into the kitchen and found a pair of kitchen gloves, a bottle of spray cleaner and a cloth, then she rubbed down the body, carefully removing any possible trace of a fingerprint or her own body fluids. She got a clean bedspread from a linen closet and rolled Ginger’s body in it, leaving her on one side of the king-sized bed. She pulled her panties on, then got into a pair of Ginger’s jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, then she switched off the garden lights, went outside, and looked around. She couldn’t see any neighbors at their windows. She opened the hotbox, which was empty, and noted two large bags of potting soil leaning against the fence. She went back inside, hoisted Ginger’s body over her shoulder, looked around outside, then went into the garden and dumped the body into the hotbox. She emptied both bags of potting soil over the body, covering it completely, then tossed in a few flowerpots that were lined up against the garden fence.
    Having worked up a sweat, Brett went back inside, stripped off her clothes, and took a hot shower, never removing the rubber gloves. When she had dried herself and her hair, she cleaned the hair from the shower drain and saved it, then walked around the apartment, naked, selecting things. She found a good suitcase and packed some of Ginger’s clothes. She found her passport in a desk drawer—Ginger Harvey, her full name was—then emptied her briefcase on the bed and took the wallet and credit cards, putting them into her own bag.
    When everything was packed and in order, she got into bed, set the alarm clock for five a.m., and went immediately to sleep.
    When the alarm went off, she rolled up Florence Tyler’s clothing and effects, then stripped the bedcovers, put them into the over-and-under washing machine in the kitchen, added detergent and a generous amount of bleach and switched it on. She ate a breakfast of juice, fruit, yogurt, and coffee while the things washed, then she put them into the dryer. While they tumbled dry, she put fresh sheets and a new duvet cover on the bed, then dressed in Ginger’s best suit.
    Finally, she folded the laundered bedcovers and put the contents of the lint filter and her hair from the shower drain into a plastic bag, rolled it into Florence Tyler’s things. She went around the apartment with the spray cleaner again, obliterating any possible trace of herself. Satisfied, she tucked Florence Tyler’s clothes under her arm, picked up Ginger’s suitcase, let herself out of the apartment and the building, and began walking down Lexington Avenue. After a block, she stuffed Florence’s things into a street-corner wastebasket and caught the next bus downtown.
    When she got off, she was Ginger Harvey.

17
    Stone settled at his desk the following morning and sipped the single cup of coffee he allowed himself after breakfast, an Italian espresso roast, made very strong in a drip coffeemaker. He buzzed Joan.
    “Good morning. Please get me Herbie Fisher at his place of work. It’s a Walgreens in Brooklyn. You have his numbers, don’t you?”
    “Got them on his first visit. I’ll buzz you back.”
    Stone read the front page of the Times and washed it down with his black coffee.
    Joan buzzed back. “He didn’t show up for work. You want to talk to his boss?”
    “Yes.” Stone picked up the phone. “Good morning,” he said, “is this Herbert Fisher’s supervisor?”
    “Yes, this is Mr. Wirtz, the manager.”
    “I understand that Herbie didn’t show up for work this morning?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Do you know why?”
    “Nope. He didn’t show up yesterday, either.”
    “Is this unusual?”

    “Well, he’s come in late and hungover before, but at least he always showed up.”
    “Thank you,” Stone said. He buzzed Joan. “Try his home number.”
    Joan buzzed back a moment later. “His mother answered the phone. I’ve got her on the line.”
    Stone pressed the button. “Mrs. Fisher?”
    “Mrs. Bernstein,” she replied curtly. “Mr. Fisher took a hike a long time ago.”
    “I’m sorry. Mrs. Bernstein, this is Stone Barrington. I’m Herbie’s lawyer, and it’s important that I speak to him. Where can I reach him?”
    “You’re who ? I thought his lawyer was Mr. Levy.”
    “Mr. Levy works for me on Herbie’s case. It really is