“This is Dino Bacchetti.
“He’s the cop, isn’t he? You mentioned that he was present for the cockup.”
“I was an innocent bystander,” Dino said. “I never took her pulse.” He jerked a thumb at Stone. “He did, though.”
“Do you have any medical training, Stone? Were you qualified to pronounce her?”
“I was a homicide detective for many years, mostly with Dino for a partner. After a few dozen corpses, I caught on to the symptoms of death. Now, what’s happened?”
“Her tox screen came back,” Golding said. “She was poisoned.”
“With what?”
“Have you been reading the papers about the death of the two former KGB agents in Britain, who were murdered by their former schoolmates?”
“I have.”
“We’ve been on the phone for the past two hours talking to the people who dealt with that, and we’re pretty sure it’s the same drug. Knowing what it is gives her a better chance of recovery.”
“Have you told her mother?”
Golding shook his head. “I couldn’t, until I reported it to the police.”
“Consider it reported,” Dino said. “You’d better call her, before she hears about it on TV.”
“Excuse me a moment,” Golding said. He left the table, then came back for his drink. “I’m going to need this. Order me a steak, rare, and another drink.” He left the room.
Dino got out his phone and pressed a button. “Find Johnny Goode,” he said, then hung up.
“Who’s he?” Stone asked.
“He’s kind of our specialist detective in poisonings,” Dino replied.
“I didn’t know you had a specialist in poisonings.”
“We don’t, that’s why I said ‘kind of.’” Dino’s phone rang, and he picked it up. “Johnny B.,” he said. “I’ve got something for you. You know the people in England the KGB poisoned? There have been three or four. Right. We’ve got a lady at Bellevue, name of Vanessa Baker. We think she took whatever they took. I want you to call MI-5 and find out everything you don’t already know about those poisons, particularly how long they take to take effect. Yeah, I know it’s the middle of the night there. Wait until they’re up, then call me back when you’re our resident genius. You’ll be the lead detective on the case.” Dino hung up. “Johnny B. Goode is on it.”
“That’s really his name?”
“Not the ‘B.’ part, but everybody calls him that, anyway.”
“Of course they do.”
“Or they wouldn’t be cops,” Dino said.
“This is going to be a tough case,” Stone said.
“I think it’ll be a lot easier if Vanessa starts walking and talking,” Dino replied.
“Out of the four cases in England, so far,” Stone said, “only one of them is walking and talking.”
“I’ve had worse odds,” Dino said.
“Good for you.”
Bill Golding arrived back at the table with an empty glass in his hand. “I need this one,” he said, grabbing the fresh one.
39
Bill Golding attacked the slab of meat that was before him. “Vanessa continues to show signs of recovery,” he said. “Her mother is with her, and I’m glad I’m here.”
“Who’s treating her?” Stone asked.
“We’ve got a poison team, and they’re on it, but they’ve never seen anything like this—a poison that takes twenty-four to seventy-two hours to act. That’s what the literature, such as it is, says.”
“Let’s count backward,” Dino said. “Stone, you found her dead, sort of, at what time?”
“Around seven-forty AM.”
“Did you see her the evening before?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And the big dinner was the night before that?”
“Right, and she was at another dinner the night before that.”
“Then,” Golding said, “the big dinner two nights ago looks good. Forty-eight hours, or so, have passed since then, and it was twelve hours ago that you discovered her unconscious in your bathroom. She had vomited, as I recall.”
“That’s right.”
“That may have saved her life by getting rid of some of the poison.”
“I sat between Vanessa and her mother,” Stone said, “and she ate what we all ate.”
“How did you happen to be seated in that position?” Dino asked.
“I sat where my place card was. Vanessa told me she had moved hers next to mine.”
“Then where did she move it from?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you all have for dinner?” Golding asked.
“Breast of chicken in a cream sauce and flavored with brandy, potatoes au gratin, haricots verts.”
“Starter?”
“A slab of seared foie gras,” Stone said.
“Dessert?”
“Crème brûlée.”
“And what were you all drinking?”
“A French burgundy. There were two bottles on the table.”
“Dessert wine?”
“A sauterne. I don’t know which one.”
“Coffee?”
“Later, in the living room. Vanessa and her mother didn’t stay for coffee. I saw them leave.”
“Do you know if she had a drink before dinner?” Golding asked.
Stone thought about it. “When I got to the party, I saw a Russian of my acquaintance standing with her, and they both had drinks in their hands. The Russian’s was clear—vodka, I guess. Hers was whiskey-colored.”
“Very good.”
“He didn’t mention that the Russian was ex-KGB,” Dino pointed out, “and has an unsavory reputation.”
“Right,” Stone said. “He would know people who could arrange a poisoning.”
“Who was in the kitchen?” Golding asked.
“A caterer, I guess. I never went into the kitchen.”
“How many people at this party?”