Worst Fears Realized

he?”
    “This is hardly a sane thing to do, even if it is revenge.”
    “Has it occurred to you that one victim didn’t even know you? That she just had the misfortune to live within sight of your house?”
    “It has. Did anything come of checking out the residents of the buildings on my side of the block?”
    Dino shook his head. “Nothing; all solid citizens.”
    “He had to have seen her through her rear window,” Stone said. “She wasn’t chosen at random.”
    “He wanted you to watch,” Dino said. “Maybe me, too.”

    “It was the single worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
    “I know how you feel.”
    Dino picked up the phone at his side and pressed a speed-dial button. “This is Bacchetti; let me speak to Anderson. Andy? Tomorrow I want you to dig out the case file on a Herbert Mitteldorfer; killed his wife twelve, thirteen years ago. I want you to go back to the neighborhood where he used to live—in the old Germantown area, I think—the East Eighties. Talk to his neighbors, the shopkeepers, anybody who remembers him. See if any of them knows whether he had any family in this country, particularly a son or a nephew; find out who his friends were, and check with them. I want to know about everybody he knew. Check his former workplace, too. There’s a woman called Eloise Enzberg who worked or maybe still works there. Talk to her nicely, and maybe she’ll spill something. She’s been writing to Mitteldorfer at Sing Sing. Also, call the warden’s office and get a list of Mitteldorfer’s visitors for the past two years. Report back to me as you find out things; I want to know it all. Hang on.” Dino covered the receiver. “Can you think of anything else?” he asked Stone.
    Stone furrowed his brow. “Have them find out who Mitteldorfer was friends with at Sing Sing and whether any of them has gotten out recently.”
    “Good idea.” Dino gave the instruction to Anderson, then hung up. “I don’t know of anything else we can do, do you?”
    Stone shook his head. “Not apart from being very, very careful.”

10
    STONE WAS AWAKENED FROM A SOUNDsleep by the doorbell. He rolled over, glancing at the clock—9:00A.M. He picked up the phone and punched the intercom button. “Yes?”
    “Mr. Barrington?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m Joan Robertson, from Woodman and Weld. Bill Eggers sent me over to do some secretarial work for you.”
    “Oh, yes, I’ll buzz you in. Wander around until you find the kitchen, and make yourself a cup of coffee. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.” He pressed the button that opened the front door.
    He struggled out of bed, shaved, showered, and dressed, then ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. A woman with streaked blonde hair, trim, in her forties, sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
    “Good morning,” she said. “Join me? I made a pot.”

    He shook her hand. “Thanks, I will,” Stone said. He got a cup and sat down. “You look a lot like…what’s her name? The actress?”
    “June Allyson?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “I get that all the time.”
    “You even have that husky voice. Is she your mother?”
    “Not unless my parents have been lying to me for the past forty-five years.”
    “Did Bob tell you anything about what I need?”
    “He said you needed a secretary, maybe for a few weeks. He also said that you should not get to like me too much, because he has no intention of letting you steal me.”
    Stone laughed. The phone rang, and he went to the wall set and picked it up. “Hello?”
    “Stone? It’s Sarah Buckminster.”
    The English accent rang like a bell, and parts of Stone were ringing, too.
    “You’re obviously an impostor,” he said. “The real Sarah Buckminster is in Tuscany, probably treading grapes for the new Chianti.”
    “She was until yesterday.” Sarah laughed.
    “Are you really back?”
    “I am.”
    “God, it’s been, what…”
    “Six and a half years. How the hell are you?”
    “I’m extremely well.”
    “So am I. Buy me lunch?”
    “You bet. The Four Seasons at one? We’ll celebrate.”

    “We certainly will. See you then.”
    “Bye.” Stone hung up and came back to the table. “Sorry about that,” he said to Joan. “An old friend has turned up unexpectedly.”
    “You certainly sounded happy to hear from her,” Joan said.
    “It showed, huh? I guess I amvery happy to hear from her. Now, I was telling you about—” The doorbell rang. “Excuse me again.” He picked up the phone.