“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.
37
When Stone got to his office, Joan was waiting for him. “Who left the house on the gurney?” she asked.
“A woman of my acquaintance—you don’t know her. Call the headquarters of a chain of bakeries called Baker’s Half Dozen, and see if you can locate Mrs. Betty Baker at the office or at a home number. You can say that it’s a personal matter and urgent.”
“Right,” Joan said. Shortly she buzzed him. “Mrs. Baker on one.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Betty? It’s Stone Barrington.”
“Oh, Stone, what a nice surprise to hear from you.”
“I’m afraid I call with bad news.”
“Oh, God, is it something to do with Vanessa?”
“It is. We had dinner at a restaurant last night, then she asked to see my house, and we came back for a drink. She ended up staying the night, and sometime later, while I was asleep, she got up and dressed. I found her in the bathroom this morning. She had apparently fallen and struck her head on the bathtub. She did not survive the accident.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Where did they take her?”
“To the city morgue. I’ll have them contact you when her body is ready to be released.” He asked for her contact numbers; she thanked him and hung up.
Joan buzzed him. “The medical examiner is on line two.”
Stone knew the man from his cop days, when he had been an assistant in the morgue. He picked up the phone. “Dave?”
“Good morning, Stone.”
“How are you?”
“Let’s leave the pleasantries for the moment. I have some interesting news for you.”
“All right.”
“I came into the office a few minutes ago, and a morgue assistant was waiting in my office. He had been on duty when a DOA came in, brought from your residence.”
“Yes.”
“He had a brief look at her, then covered the body and logged her in. A minute or two later a movement caught his eye, and he turned to see her arm dangling from the table.” The ME paused.
“Go on, Dave.”
“It struck him that her color was pink, where it had been dead white a moment before that. He went to the table, checked for a pulse at the wrist and neck—and found one. He confirmed it with a stethoscope, then he called Bellevue and asked for the EMTs and a doctor. The short story is: she’s alive, but not conscious.”
“Dave, this isn’t some sort of bizarre morgue joke, is it?”
“I’m telling you true, Stone. Bellevue has her hooked up to the equipment and is trying to revive her.”
“Thank you, Dave, I’ll let her family know.” He hung up and buzzed Joan. “Get Betty Baker on the phone—on her cell, if you have to—and pronto.”
“Yes, boss.” A moment later she buzzed. “Got her.”
Stone picked up the phone. “Betty?”
“Yes, Stone, what is it? I have arrangements to make.”
“Where are you?”
“In my car, on the way home.”
“Go to Bellevue Hospital instead, to the emergency room. Vanessa has shown signs of life, and they’re trying to revive her.”
“Good God,” she said quietly.
“Do you know where Bellevue is?”
“My driver does.”
Stone gave her his number. “Please call me, when you know more.”
“Stone?”
“Yes?”
“Will you meet me there? I’m going to need help with this.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Stone said. He hung up, got into his jacket, and went into Joan’s office. “Call the director of emergency medicine at Bellevue and remind him that they have a Vanessa Baker in their ER. Tell him her mother and an attorney are on the way there.”
“Will do.”
Stone hung up and buzzed Fred.
“Yes, sir?”
“I need the car ten minutes ago,” Stone said.
* * *
—
Stone arrived at the hospital and read the directory on the wall. The director of emergency medicine was a William Golding, MD. Stone went to the emergency room desk and got a woman’s attention. “My name is Stone Barrington. I have to see Dr. Golding immediately—he’s expecting me.”
She spoke into the phone, then hung up. “He’ll be here directly.” A moment later a curtain was swept aside, and a stout man in his shirtsleeves looked around the waiting room and his eye fell on Stone. “Are you Barrington?”
“Yes,” Stone said.
“This way.” Golding strode to an examination room with Stone in tow, then closed the door behind him. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?” he asked.
“She died, or I thought she did, in a bathroom in my house. The authorities were called, and she was pronounced, in the presence of the police commissioner, who is a friend of mine. A few minutes ago I got a call from David Pelly at the morgue who told me she was alive. I came right over, and her mother, Mrs. Betty Baker, is on her way.”
“Can you deal with the mother until I get this under control?” Golding asked.
“All right. We’ll be in the waiting room.”
“I’ll leave word at the desk to have both of you taken to my office.”
Golding left, and Stone went back to the waiting room, in time to intercept Betty.
“Where is she?” Betty asked.
“They’re working on her now. No news, yet.”
A nurse appeared at Stone’s elbow. “Mr. Barrington, Mrs. Baker, please follow me.”
They were led to a fairly large, well-decorated office down a hallway. “Dr. Golding will be with you as soon as he can. Please have a seat.”
They sat down on a sofa and waited, not talking much.