Worst Fears Realized

“Yes?” He heard footsteps going down the front steps. “Hello?” He hung up and turned back to Joan. “Let me see who that is.”
    He walked through the living room to the front door. Nobody there. He looked up and down the street but saw no one who looked interested in his house. He closed the door and turned to go back to the kitchen. On the floor of the entrance hall was a small, yellow envelope. Somebody had apparently put it through the mail slot. He picked it up. A Western Union telegram. He walked back into the kitchen, tossed it onto the table, sat down, and picked up his coffee, which was getting cold. “A telegram,” he said, picking up the envelope.
    “That’s odd,” Joan replied.
    “How so?” he asked, opening the envelope.
    “There are no telegrams anymore. I mean, you can send a mailgram, I think, but I thought fax machines put telegrams out of business a long time ago.”
    Stone unfolded the single sheet of yellow paper. It was an old-fashioned telegram, with strips of message glued to the paper. It read:

    SORRY I MISSED LAST NIGHT. IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN.
    BY THE WAY, DID YOU KNOW THE POLICE ARE WATCHING YOUR HOUSE?
    YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE
    Stone stared at the message, rereading it.
    “Mr. Barrington,” Joan said. “Are you all right? You’ve turned pale.”
    Stone realized that he felt pale. “I’m sorry,” he said.
    “Is it bad news?”
    “I’m afraid so,” he said. “Will you wait right here, Joan? Whatever you do, don’t leave the house or go near the front door.”
    “All right,” she said, looking at him curiously.
    Stone went to his study and called Dino on his private line.
    “Bacchetti.”
    “Dino, it’s Stone.”
    “Morning. You feeling better?”
    “I was until a minute ago.”
    Dino’s voice changed. “What’s happened?”
    “I’ve had a message from our perp.” Stone read the telegram. “It was pushed through the mail slot five minutes ago.”
    “Hang on,” Dino said, putting him on hold.
    Stone waited, feeling a little sick at the thought of what he might have gotten Joan Robertson into.
    “You there?” Dino asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ve put out a new APB in your neighborhood,” he said. “I don’t know what else I can do.”
    “There is something else,” Stone said.

    “Shoot.”
    “I’ve made a big mistake. When Alma was killed, Bill Eggers offered to send somebody over to help out until I can hire a new secretary. She arrived this morning; I had completely forgotten about it.”
    “Oh, shit,” Dino said.
    “Exactly.”
    “We’re going to have to get her out of there,” Dino said.
    “What do you suggest?”
    Dino thought for a minute. “Can a car get into that garage of yours?”
    “Yes. I was thinking of buying a car, and I moved a lot of boxes out of the way.”
    “I’ll send an unmarked car over there; you watch for them and open the garage. They can pull inside, then you can put your lady in the backseat, and they can drive her somewhere. I’ll tell them to make sure they’re not followed.”
    “Very good,” Stone replied. “Have them call me when they turn into the block.”
    “Right.”
    Stone hung up and went back to the kitchen. “Joan, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to use you—not for a while, anyway.”
    “Whatever you say,” she replied, standing up.
    “No, have a seat. A car is being sent to take you back to your office.”
    “Oh, that’s not necessary, Mr. Barrington. It’s not much of a walk, and it’s a nice day.”
    “I’m afraid itis necessary,” Stone said. “It’s a police car that’s coming for you.”

    “Apolice car? I don’t understand.”
    “It wouldn’t do any good to explain; just trust me on this.”
    She shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”
    “It’s Andy Anderson. We’re coming up the street now.”
    “Thanks; I’ll open the door.” He hung up. “Please follow me,” he said to Joan Robertson.
    She stood up. “All right.”
    Stone led her down the back stairs, through his exercise room, and into the garage. He pressed the button, and the door rose noisily. Instantly, a car drove inside, with Mick Kelly at the wheel and Andy Anderson in the passenger seat. Stone opened the door and helped Joan in. “I want you to lie down on the backseat until Detective Anderson tells you it’s all right to sit up.”
    Joan laughed. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said.
    “Believe