Stone Barrington 06-11

Morton said.
    “There are two of them; give me a second, and I’ll open them for you.” He turned back to the phone. “I guess you know about this.”
    “Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Call me when they’re done.”
    “Right.” Stone hung up and pressed the intercom button for his secretary’s office.
    “Yes, Stone?” Joan said.
    “The police are here to search the house; open your safe, but lock the filing cabinets containing clients’ files.”
    “Okay,” she said.
    Stone turned back to the two detectives. “My secretary is opening the big safe in her office, but not the clients’ files. Those are privileged, and your warrant doesn’t cover them.”

    “Let’s get it done,” Morton said.
    “Come upstairs, and I’ll open my personal safe in my dressing room.” He led them up to his bedroom and opened the safe. “Help yourself,” he said, standing back.
    Morton and Weiss shone a flashlight into the safe and began removing items, beginning with the handguns stored there.
    “You have a permit to keep these weapons?” Morton asked. He held up Billy Bob’s Colt sixgun.
    Stone got out his wallet and handed them his permit. “The serial numbers are listed on the back of the license,” he said, hoping they wouldn’t check and find out that the Colt wasn’t on his license.
    “And you have a license because you’re a retired cop?”
    “That’s right. Retired cops are entitled to them, just as you will be when you retire.”
    “I’ve got cash here,” Weiss said, rummaging in the safe.
    “I keep some cash in there,” Stone said. “Never more than a few thousand dollars.”
    Weiss was holding a stack of hundred-dollar bills in his rubber-gloved fingers, dropping them into a plastic envelope. “I’ve got what looks like about five, six thousand dollars, in hundreds.”
    “That’s what Barnstormer said he gave the girl, isn’t it?”
    “A coincidence,” Stone said. “There are a lot of fifties, twenties and tens in there, too. I cashed a check for ten thousand dollars a couple of weeks ago; there’s at least eight of it in that safe.” He took his personal checkbook from his desk and handed it to Morton.
    Morton looked through the register. “Yeah, here it is. Only problem is, it’s the last check you wrote.”
    “That’s why I got the cash—so I wouldn’t have to write checks.”
    “Still, you could have dated it earlier, couldn’t you?”
    “Check with my bank; I’ll call them for you, if you like.”
    “After we’ve run the bills for prints,” Morton said. “Let’s go see the downstairs safe.”

    Stone led them downstairs and showed them the safe in Joan’s office. “Help yourself. This is my secretary, Joan Robertson, Detectives Morton and Weiss. Oh, Joan cashed the ten-thousand-dollar check for me; she can confirm the date.”
    Joan did so, and Morton handed Stone back his checkbook.
    “We’ve got cash in here, too,” Weiss said.
    “There are times when we have a fair amount of cash in the safe,” Joan said. “Occasionally, a client prefers to pay in cash.”
    “And it’s always reported as income,” Stone said.
    “I can confirm that,” Joan said. “I get the tax stuff together for the accountant.”
    “We’re not the IRS.” Weiss bagged the hundreds in the safe and wrote out a receipt.
    TWO HOURS LATER, when the police had gone, Stone called Dino. “Your guys are done,” he said.
    “I heard. I heard they found about six grand in hundreds in your upstairs safe, too.”
    “And they won’t find Billy Bob’s fingerprints on them,” Stone said, “and not the girl’s either.”
    “I hope you’re right,” Dino said.
    “No, you don’t; you’re enjoying this.”
    “Dinner tonight? We never got around to it last night.”
    “See you at nine.”

11
    STONE AND DINO arrived at Elaine’s simultaneously, Stone in a cab and Dino in his umarked police car with driver. They walked in, and the first thing Stone saw was Billy Bob, sitting at Stone’s regular table.
    “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
    “You mean you’re not thrilled to see your client?” Dino asked.
    “Shut up.”
    “Hey, y’all,” Billy Bob said, delighted to see them. “Well, I’m glad I don’t have to eat by myself. Y’all have a drink.”
    “So, Billy Bob,” Dino said, “did your lawyer tell you you’ve been eliminated as a suspect in the girl’s murder? We checked with Buffett’s office, and they confirmed that you were in