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 Omaha.”
“Naw, Stone didn’t mention that,” Billy Bob said, looking askance at Stone.
“First time I’ve seen you,” Stone said.
“Stone isn’t off the hook, though,” Dino said. “In fact, he’s our prime suspect.”
“Now why would ol’ Stone want to kill Tiffany? You wouldn’t do that, would you, Stone?”
Stone sipped his bourbon and ignored the question.
“Well, what we look for in a suspect,” Dino said, “is motive, means and opportunity. Stone had the means—his hands—and the opportunity—he was alone in the house with the girl all day—and as for motive, well, two out of three is often enough for a jury.”
Stone ended his silence. “Dino forgot to mention that he needs physical evidence or an eyewitness,” Stone said. “And, of course, he has neither.”
“No, no physical evidence, though we did find his fingerprints on her throat.”
“I felt her throat for a pulse,” Stone said to Billy Bob.
“And the DNA from the sperm inside her,” Dino added.
“Whose DNA?” Stone asked.
“His,” Dino said, pointing at Billy Bob.
“He told you he had sex with her before leaving for Omaha,” Stone pointed out.
“And that room was completely wiped clean of prints,” Dino said.
“And why would either Billy Bob or I bother to do that? It’s my house—perfectly normal for my prints to be found there, and Billy Bob was a guest, living in that room. Normal for his prints to be there, too. Would I bother to do that in my own house?”
“Right,” Billy Bob said.
“Dino,” Stone said, “has it occurred to you that the murderer took his time? He wasn’t in a rush, what with wiping down the room and putting an electric blanket over the body.”
“That’s kinda weird, ain’t it?” Billy Bob asked. “Why would somebody want to keep her warm?”
“To screw up our estimate of when she was murdered,” Dino said. “For instance, if you had killed her before you left for Omaha that morning, the blanket would have made it seem that she died much later, because the body wouldn’t have cooled as quickly. What have you got to say about that, Billy Bob?”
“Don’t answer that,” Stone said.
“Oh, we’re completely off the record here,” Dino said, smiling.
“Don’t say a word, Billy Bob.”
Billy Bob was looking worried, now.
“So, Dino, what’s the ME’s new stab at time of death, now that he knows about the electric blanket?”
“Earlier than before,” Dino said.
“Earlier? That’s it? No ballpark?”
“Turns out the ME has never had a case where somebody tried to keep a body warm with an electric blanket,” Dino said. “He’s working on it, though, doing some tests.”
“What kind of tests?” Stone asked. “Is he going to strangle somebody, then put a blanket over the body and take its temperature every ten minutes?”
“Something like that,” Dino said, “except for the strangling part. He’ll nail it down; don’t worry.” Dino excused himself and went into the men’s room.
“Billy Bob,” Stone said, “the police turned up at my house this morning with a search warrant, and they found your gun in my safe.”
Billy Bob grinned. “Good thing I didn’t shoot that girl.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Stone said, “and be careful what you say around Dino. Don’t forget, he’s the police.”
“But Dino’s your buddy, right?”
“Right, but he’s still a cop. He’s not going to let either of us off the hook, unless he has to, and if the medical examiner comes up with a supportable estimate of time of death that includes the time before you left for Omaha, then Dino is going to come calling on you. And by the way, the next time you leave town, come get that cannon of yours. My secretary will give it to you. It’s a good thing Dino’s detectives didn’t check the serial number against my license, or we’d have both been in trouble.”
Dino came back from the men’s room and began rummaging in his overcoat pockets. He came up with a clear plastic bag full of hundred-dollar bills and tossed it on the table. “Almost forgot,” he said. “You can have your money back. We didn’t find Billy Bob’s or the girl’s prints on any of it.”
Before Stone could remove the money, Elaine came and sat down. “Hey,” she said, “you’re getting to be a pretty good tipper.”
Stone stuffed the money into his own overcoat. “I’ve always been a good tipper,” he said, “but not that good.”
“Strangled anybody else lately?” she asked Stone.
“Stop it, you’re worse than Dino.”
“I think a woman did it,” Elaine said.
“How come?” Dino asked.
“Stands to reason, doesn’t it? Some woman Stone dumped probably did it.”
Dino nodded. “Women are born killers, like cats. Who’ve you dumped lately, Stone?”
“I haven’t dumped anybody; I get dumped, not the other way around.”
“That’s true,” Dino said, nodding vigorously. “Stone gets dumped a lot.”
“Well, not a lot,” Stone said, “but once in a while.”
“More than that,” Dino said.
“Just once in a while.”
“Okay, who’re you seeing at the moment?”
“The U.S. Attorney,” Elaine said, “but she hasn’t had time to dump him, yet.”
“Why don’t you two just get dumping off your minds?” Stone asked.
“What’s-her-name dumped him,” Dino said. “You know, the one that married the billionaire from Palm Beach.”
“Right,” Elaine said. “And there was Arrington, she dumped him. You know, Dino, Stone does get dumped a lot.
“Let’s order dinner,” Stone said, picking up a menu.
“About time,” Elaine said, getting up and wandering over to another table.
AFTER DINNER, Billy Bob grabbed the check, tossed a wad of two-dollar bills on the table and stood up. “Y’all got to excuse me,” he said. “Got a late date.” He put on his coat and left.
“More two-dollar bills,” Dino said, poking at them with a finger. “Where does he get them?”
“I have no idea,” Stone said, “but there never seems to be a shortage.” He took a bill from the pile, stuck it in his pocket and replaced it with a pair of ones. “Souvenir,” he said.
“Oh,” Dino said, digging into his coat pocket. “I meant to give Billy Bob back Warren Buffett’s card.” He handed it to Stone. “You can give it to him next time you consult with him.”
Stone glanced at the card and put it in his pocket. “Will do.”