Stone awoke a little before seven to find Vanessa gone from his bed; no note. He picked up the phone and ordered breakfast for himself, then went to the door to retrieve the New York Times and took it back to bed. He read the first section carefully and timed it for completion as breakfast arrived with the ring of the bell from the dumbwaiter.
He brought the tray back to his bed, set it on his lap, and ate, switching on the TV as he did so. Nothing of any consequence there. He finished his breakfast, carried the tray back to the dumbwaiter, and pressed the button for the kitchen. Then, as he turned back toward the bed, he saw something out of place: a woman’s shoe just inside the bathroom door. Vanessa would not have left wearing only one shoe, he reflected. He walked toward the guest bathroom, and as he did, a foot, shoeless, came into view. He ran the remaining steps.
Vanessa, wearing her dress from the night before, was lying, crumpled, on the bathroom floor, her head against the bathtub. Stone had seen a lot of corpses back in his NYPD days, and he knew immediately that she was dead. He felt for a pulse at her wrist and neck and got nothing. Her skin was cool to the touch.
Stone went back into the bedroom to call Dino, then stopped himself. Dino didn’t like to be called first. He dialed 911, reported a woman deceased, and asked for the police, an ambulance, and the medical examiner, then he hung up and called Dino’s cell.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone. There’s a female, deceased, lying on my bathroom floor.”
“Have you touched anything?”
“The bathroom floor, with my bare feet, and her wrist and neck with my fingers. No pulse, and she’s cooler than normal.”
“Did you call 911?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Dino hung up.
A few minutes later the doorbell rang on his telephone. “Yes?”
“NYPD. You reported a death?”
“I’ll buzz you in. Take the elevator to the fifth floor, then down the hall to the rear of the house. The bedroom door will be open.” He pressed the front-door button then realized he was naked and went to his bathroom for a robe and slippers.
“Hello?” a voice called.
“Hello, coming.” Stone stepped out of the bathroom and found two uniforms standing in the doorway. “There’s a bathroom behind you. She’s in there.” While the two policemen investigated, Stone got into some clothes, then sat on the end of the bed and waited for them.
The two cops came out, and the older of the two produced a notebook and did the talking. “Your name?”
“Stone Barrington.”
“Familiar,” the man said.
“I’m retired NYPD, 19th Precinct.”
“Ah. Her name?”
“Vanessa Baker.”
“You know a next of kin?”
“Her mother, Betty Baker.”
“Address and phone?”
“I don’t know. If Vanessa’s handbag is in the bathroom, it might be on her phone.”
The younger cop went into the bathroom and came out holding a black alligator handbag and a business card. “I’ve got an office number and phone for the deceased.”
“Probably too early for anyone to answer there,” Stone said, checking his watch. “It’s seven-fifty-five.”
“Tell me about last night,” the elder cop said.
“She had drinks with somebody at 570 Park Avenue. I sent my car for her and she met me at Patroon, a restaurant on East 46th Street. We had dinner, then came back here for a nightcap. After that we came up here and spent the night together.”
“She looks dressed to go,” the cop said.
“At some point she got out of bed without waking me and, I guess, went into the bathroom to dress. I didn’t find her until about seven-forty, then I called 911.”
“Did you call anyone else?” the cop asked.
“He called me,” a voice said from the bedroom door. Dino was standing there, leaning against the jamb. “Carry on, Officer.”
“Yes, Commissioner,” he said with a gulp. “Mr. Barrington, did you touch anything in the bathroom?” he asked.
“The floor with my feet, her wrist and neck, while looking for a pulse.”
“Did you administer CPR?”
“I’ve seen a lot of corpses in my time, and I knew that wouldn’t help. It would also have disturbed your crime scene, if I’d moved the body.”
The doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it,” Dino said. He picked up the phone and told them to come upstairs, then pressed the button.
The cop turned to his partner. “Did you see any marks on the corpse?”
“A contusion on the right temple,” he replied. “Looks like she collapsed and struck her head on the bathtub. There’s a smudge of makeup on the porcelain. Also, she threw up in the toilet but didn’t flush.”
“That’s a break,” the cop said.
Dino brought in two men with a stretcher and another with a medical bag. “In there,” he said to them, pointing at the bathroom.
“Is your crime scene secure?” the ME asked the cop.
“Yes.” He and his partner stood aside to allow the ME to enter the bathroom. “She vomited,” said the young cop to him. “Check out the toilet.”
“How long have you known the deceased?” the cop asked Stone.
“I met her the night before last at a dinner party at the Pierre Hotel.”
“Who was the host?”
“Peter Grant, who is staying at the hotel.”
“Did he introduce you to the deceased?”
“Sort of. She told me last night that she moved her place card next to mine. Her mother was on my other side.”
The cop droned on with his questions, as if reading from a script. Stone looked at Dino, and he nodded, indicating his approval of the interrogation.
“Anything you’d like to know, Commissioner?” the cop asked.
“Where did you have dinner?”
“At Patroon.”
“What did you both have to eat?”
“We both had the Caesar salad, the Dover sole, and a bottle of Puligny-Montrachet.”
“Did you have a drink here, later?”
“We both had a cognac from the same bottle. It’s on the coffee table in my study.”
“I’ll get a sample,” the ME said, then left the room.
“Did you put anything in her food or drink?” Dino asked.
“Certainly not,” Stone replied.
“Officer,” Dino said, “I don’t think you’ll need to arrest Mr. Barrington. I’ll vouch for him.”
The body was removed on a gurney, under a sheet, then the crime scene specialists showed up and processed the bathroom and the study.
“You got some coffee?” Dino asked.
“Downstairs.”
They went to the study; the cognac bottle was gone. Dino sat down. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Just between us?”
“Not a thing,” Stone said.
“No suspect in your mind?”
“No.”
“Who was at the party?”
“The host, the girl and her mother, and about forty other people. Including Yevgeny Chekhov.”
Dino’s eyebrows went up. “That guy would be a suspect for any murder in any city.”
“No doubt.”
“I was surprised when you came back from your lunch with him still alive.”
“He was talking to Vanessa when I arrived, but she told me during dinner that she was repelled by him.”
“Maybe repelling wasn’t his only crime. Did you see her leave the party?”
“Yes, she left with her mother, whose name is Betty Baker.”
“I’ve got to get to the office. You want to do the honors?”
“I’ll track her down,” Stone said.