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“I don’t think so,” Stone said.
“Oh, right: conflict of interest.”
Stone didn’t address that.
“Shall I drop you at home?” Hackett aske
d.
“Eighty-eighth and Second Avenue, if it’s not inconvenient,” he replied.
The car deposited him at his corner, and he walked the few feet to Elaine’s. Dino was there, and so was Felicity.
30
Stone sat down, and a Knob Creek on the rocks was placed before him. “Evening, all,” he said, placing the envelope on the table. He turned to Felicity. “Where have you been?”
“Away,” she replied.
“I tried your cell phone and got a message that it was not in service.”
“It’s back in service,” she said. “Where have you been?” She took a sip of her Rob Roy.
“Meeting Stanley Whitestone,” he replied.
Felicity choked on her drink, and Stone had to pat her firmly on the back. “Start at the beginning,” she said, dabbing at her watering eyes with a napkin.
Stone started at the beginning and gave her a blow-by-blow account of his afternoon.
Dino spoke up. “Hackett let you fly his jet?”
Stone ignored him. He handed Felicity the envelope and watched as she opened it and peered at the photos.
“It could be Whitestone,” she said. “And he could have died as a result of a motorcar accident.” She looked at the death certificate and the fingerprint card.
“Run the prints,” Stone said. “That should settle it.”
“Was he cremated?” Felicity asked.
“Hackett didn’t mention cremation. I shouldn’t think he’d have bothered with buying a cemetery plot if the body had ended up in an urn. And it’s unlikely that there’s a crematorium anywhere near the island.”
Felicity put the photos and documents back into the envelope and stuffed it into her briefcase.
“That will be a hundred thousand pounds,” Stone said.
“You haven’t earned your fee yet,” she replied.
“Well, I’m not performing an autopsy. Hackett didn’t say if the body was embalmed, but if it wasn’t, it’s either mush or dust by now.”
“I want everyone involved in Maine to be talked to: the hospital doctors and nurses, the police, the undertaker, the lot.”
“My assignment was to locate Stanley Whitestone and report his whereabouts to you. I have done so. You said that after you knew where he was, others would deal with him.”
“I think Hackett is Whitestone,” Felicity said.
“I considered that. In fact, he brought it up himself. He invited me-or you-to investigate his background thoroughly.”
“I will certainly have that done,” she said. “I’d like you to handle the task on this side of the water.”
