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“Good afternoon,” Stone said.
“I’ve thought a lot about our conversation, and I’ve decided that the Collins case will be a lot less trouble if I assume he’s alive.”
“If you say so. By the way, who was the man who was shot on the ferry?”
“The murder victim?”
“Right. If Collins is alive, who’s the victim?”
“I guess I’ll have to investigate that.”
“Where are you going to start? I mean, you don’t have the corpse, so you can’t pull prints or a DNA sample. Do you still have his clothes?”
“I guess those would be with the ME.”
“He might have printed the corpse, too, or kept a tissue sample for DNA. I should think that would be standard practice.”
“I’ll give him a call now,” Young said, then hung up.
—
Stone was onhis first drink at the bar when his phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mr. Barrington?”
“Yes?”
“This is John Collins, how are you?”
“Ah, the mysterious Mr. Collins! A better question to ask might be: How are you? You certainly don’t sound dead.”
Collins chuckled. “I’m relieved to hear that.”
“Where are you?” Stone asked. “Can you join me for dinner at P. J. Clarke’s?”
“I’m in the city, but I have another commitment. Vanessa suggested we meet, though. How about tomorrow night?”
“Fine. Do you know Patroon?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s meet there at seven o’clock. I’ll book.”
“See you then,” Collins said, then hung up before Stone could ask any further questions.
Dino pulled up a stool, and the bartender set a Scotch before him. “Sorry I’m late.”
“If you had been here a few minutes earlier, you could have witnessed a phone conversation between the spirit of John Collins and me.”
“He called?”
“Yes, and we have a dinner date tomorrow evening at Patroon. Would you like to join us?”
“You mean you want a witness.”
“Well, yes. And a fingerprint and a DNA sample.”
“If you get all that and have me as a witness, then the mystery ends?”
