"Well, I sure as hell didn't kill her, and I don't have no idea who did! Why would I want to kill her?"

"Did you give her any money before you left her?"

"Yep, I gave her six thousand bucks, in hundreds."

"There was no money in the room or in her purse," Morton said.

"Well, there you go," Stone chipped in. "You've got robbery for a motive. Somebody got into the house, robbed and murdered her."

Morton took a packet from his pocket. "We're going to need a DNA sample," he said.

"We'll stipulate that Mr. Barnstormer and the girl had sex yesterday morning, before he left."

"We still need the sample. If a robber had sex with her, we'll need to differentiate the sperm."

"Give them the sample, Billy Bob," Stone said.

Billy Bob opened his mouth and let the detective run a swab inside his cheek.

"Is that it, gentlemen?" Stone asked.

"For the moment," Morton said. "Don't leave town, Mr. Barnstormer."

"Is he under arrest?"

"Not at the moment."

"Billy Bob, you can go wherever the hell you want to, but keep in touch with me."

"I'm gon' be in New York for at least four or five more days," Billy Bob said, "maybe a week."

Stone stood up. "Good. Get some sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow."

Morton gave Billy Bob and Stone his card. "Call me if you think of anything else." Stone took Billy Bob aside. "Give me the key to my house."

Billy Bob dug into a pocket and forked it over.

"Now get a sheet of hotel stationery from the desk and write down your office and home addresses and phone numbers, your cell-phone number, the number of the phone on the airplane and your Social Security number."

"Why?"

"Because I like to be able to contact my clients when the police come looking for them."

Billy Bob went to the desk, wrote for a couple of minutes, put the paper in an envelope and handed it to Stone.

"Mind if we have a copy of that?" Dino asked.

"You can contact him through me," Stone said.

They left Billy Bob to get some sleep, and Dino dropped him off at home.

"What did you think?" Stone asked.

"He was plausible," Dino said. "But I wish I liked him more for the murder."

"Why?"

"Then I wouldn't have to think about arresting you."

STONE WAS HAVING BREAKFAST the following morning when Helene came into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mr. Stone," she said.

"Good morning, Helene."

"That was a terrible business yesterday with that girl."

"Yes, it was; I'm sorry you had to be involved."

"She must have been very cold natured," Helene said.

"How's that?"

"I mean, the house is heated pretty warm, and there was a down comforter on the bed."

"I'm sorry, Helene, I don't understand."

"So why would she want to use an electric blanket?"

"Helene, I don't own an electric blanket."

"Oh, yes," she said. "You told me to buy one last year, when you had a guest who was cold in that room, remember?"

That stopped Stone in his tracks. "Yes, I think I do, now that you mention it."

"Well, she had it on, and it was turned all the way up. How do you think she could stand that?"

"I don't know," Stone said, and his mind was racing. He reached for the phone to call Dino, then stopped. What was his obligation, here? If the girl had been under an electric blanket after she was murdered, her body would have cooled more slowly, and the ME's estimate of time of death, which would have been based on liver temperature, could have been off by hours. Reporting this fact to the police could tend to incriminate both his client and himself. The phone rang, and Stone picked it up.

"Hello?"

"It's Dino."

"Good morning."

"Not really, not for you and your client, anyway."

Stone's heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"The ME called this morning; when he gave us the time of death yesterday, he didn't know that the girl's body was under an electric blanket. Apparently, one of his techs moved the blanket and didn't remember to tell him until later."

"Helene told me about the electric blanket just a minute ago. I was about to call you."

"Yeah, sure you were. We got a whole new ball game here, you know."

"Well, neither Billy Bob's story nor mine is going to change."

"Actually, Billy Bob's ass is covered."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. One of my people just talked to Warren Buffett's office; they confirmed that Billy Bob was there in time for a two o'clock meeting yesterday and didn't leave until four. That gives him time to leave your house when he said he did, drive to Teterboro and fly to Omaha in time for his meeting."

"Good for Billy Bob."

"Unfortunately, while his ass is covered, yours is not."

"Oh, come on, Dino."

"I don't really think you killed the girl, Stone, not even accidentally, but the consensus around here is that you're looking like the only suspect, and I can't squelch that. You know as well as I do that investigations follow the path of least resistance until some new fact stops them. Right now, the path to you is free and clear and well oiled. You better come up with some new facts."

Stone was about to reply, when the phone made a noise that indicated someone was at the front door. "Hang on a minute, Dino." He punched the hold button, then the button for the front door intercom. "Yes?"

"Mr. Barrington, it's Detectives Morton and Weiss; please open the door."

"I'm buzzing you in," Stone said. "I'm in the kitchen." He pressed the button for the buzzer, then went back to Dino. "I'm back."

"That was Morton and Weiss at your front door, wasn't it?"

"Yes. What do they want?"

Morton and Weiss appeared in the kitchen, and Morton held up a document. "We've got a warrant to search your house," he said. There were four uniformed officers standing behind them.

"Anything in particular?" Stone asked.

"We'll need the combination to your safe," Morton said.

"There are two of them; give me a second, and I'll open them for you." He turned back to the phone. "I guess you know about this."

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. Call me when they're done."

"Right." Stone hung up and pressed the intercom button for his secretary's office.

"Yes, Stone?" Joan said.

"The police are here to search the house; open your safe, but lock the filing cabinets containing clients' files."

"Okay," she said.

Stone turned back to the two detectives. "My secretary is opening the big safe in her office, but not the clients' files. Those are privileged, and your warrant doesn't cover them."

"Let's get it done," Morton said.

"Come upstairs, and I'll open my personal safe in my dressing room." He led them up to his bedroom and opened the safe. "Help yourself," he said, standing back.

Morton and Weiss shone a flashlight into the safe and began removing items, beginning with the handguns stored there.

"You have a permit to keep these weapons?" Morton asked. He held up Billy Bob's Colt sixgun.

Stone got out his wallet and handed them his permit. "The serial numbers are listed on the back of the license," he said, hoping they wouldn't check and find out that the Colt wasn't on his license.

"And you have a license because you're a retired cop?"

"That's right. Retired cops are entitled to them, just as you will be when you retire."

"I've got cash here," Weiss said, rummaging in the safe.

"I keep some cash in there," Stone said. "Never more than a few thousand dollars."

Weiss was holding a stack of hundred-dollar bills in his rubber-gloved fingers, dropping them into a plastic envelope. "I've got what looks like about five, six thousand dollars, in hundreds."

"That's what Barnstormer said he gave the girl, isn't it?"