The following morning, Stone and Holly had breakfast and goodbye sex, then she left for the airport. Stone went down to his office, called Lance Cabot, and scrambled. “Vanessa Baker has moved out of her mother’s apartment, into Peter Grant’s place in the same building. Peter had left her the apartment, the car, and a quarter of his cash.”
“Interesting,” Lance said.
“I went to see her in the old apartment, pretending I knew nothing, and spoke to her mother, Betty, who seemed angry that Vanessa had left.”
“Perhaps she was just feeling motherly,” Lance said.
“There was nothing motherly in her attitude,” Stone replied. “Also, I mentioned that Peter had been murdered, and she didn’t bat an eye. She wouldn’t have known he was murdered. The police have never released that.”
“Now that’s downright ominous,” Lance said. “Do you think she had a hand in it?”
“I think Vanessa thinks so. She went to some lengths to make her mother believe that she had moved out of the building, bribing the staff and hiring new nurses.”
“Can she get away with that?”
“I don’t see why not,” Stone replied.
“How far was Betty sitting from Vanessa at the dinner you attended?”
“Betty was seated on my left, Vanessa on my right.”
“Did she move around and speak to other guests?”
“She did some of that before taking her seat. I remember she greeted Peter with particular warmth, and he was sitting on Vanessa’s other side.”
“Perhaps Betty has chosen sides, and not Vanessa’s.”
“Have you heard anything more about Yevgeny Chekhov?”
“He’s back at the Russian embassy in Paris,” Lance replied. “Apparently, he keeps an apartment there.”
“How long has he had it?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t come up until you lunched there with him and Peter.”
“Do you have people on him in Paris?”
“From time to time,” Lance said. “We’re informed when Chekhov leaves the embassy.”
“Has he left much?”
“No, but yesterday he had half a dozen visitors. They all arrived in Bentleys and Rollses.”
“Sounds like a board meeting,” Stone said.
“Of what company?”
“You tell me,” Stone said.
“I wish I could. Do you have any idea where his apartment is located in the embassy?”
Stone thought about that. “When I entered the building from the front door, I was taken down a fairly long corridor past the ambassador’s office and, perhaps some others, then into a circular courtyard. When Chekhov and Peter appeared, they came from the rear of the building into the courtyard, at perhaps a hundred-and-eighty-degree angle from the ambassador’s office. Perhaps there are quarters there for the ambassador, some embassy officers, and a guest: Chekhov.”
“I’ll pass that along and see what my people can make of it. Keep me abreast of Vanessa and her activities.” Lance hung up.
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“It’s Stone. Peter Grant’s executor has asked that Peter’s Mercedes be released to the estate. Do you have any reason to hang on to it?”
“I’ll call the ADA on the case. I think we’ve got whatever it had to give us.”
“Thanks. Vanessa is going to need a car.” He explained to Dino about her moving.
“There’s a girl who wants to get away from her mother,” Dino observed.
“Right. Holly left this morning. How about lunch?”
“Let’s go to La Goulue and look at the girls.”
“I take it Viv is traveling.”
“How’d you guess? One o’clock?”
“Right.” They both hung up and Stone asked Joan to make the reservation.
Before lunch, Stone made the trip uptown and was admitted to Vanessa’s apartment. She had very good privacy, since the apartment took up the whole floor. Vanessa wasn’t using the wheelchair; they had a drink on the terrace, overlooking the Metropolitan Museum.
Vanessa wasn’t very talkative, and Stone didn’t know if she was having difficulty with speech or just preferring quiet.
“Vanessa,” he said, trying to draw her out, “do you remember going to Martha’s Vineyard with Peter three or four years ago?”
She looked at him. “No.”
“I believe you stayed at an inn in Edgartown; the McIntoshes were there.”
“Peter and I didn’t sleep together, ever.”
“You would have had a separate room.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t remember such an occasion.”
“Have you had trouble with your memory since you were poisoned?”
“With my speech, yes; with my memory, no. I would certainly have remembered that visit, if I had been there, but I don’t suppose I’ve been to the Vineyard for five or six years. Why would you ask about such a meeting?”
“Never mind, it’s nothing.”
“Have you heard anything more from my mother?”
“No. After our conversation yesterday, she would have thought that, if I knew where you were, I would have told her.”
“I suppose so.”
“Vanessa, what do you suppose your mother would do if she learned where you are?”
“I have no way of knowing that,” Vanessa said. “I just want to avoid seeing her, if I can. And I’m just as safe a few floors up as I would be in another building across town.”
“Are you concerned about your safety?”
“Wouldn’t you be, if you had just been poisoned?”
“I suppose I would be, but I’m glad you feel safe here.”
“‘Safe’ is a relative term. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safe again.”
“Have you had any further ideas about who might have done this to you?”
“No, none.”
“Do you think your mother is involved?”
“I can think of no reason why she might want me dead. We’ve always had a good relationship—like sisters, really.”
“But now?”
Vanessa looked out at Central Park for a moment, then back at Stone. “I’m afraid of her,” she said.