“He gave me a cashier’s check from a local bank.” He suddenly looked concerned. “Why? Do you think something might be wrong?”

“Not if he gave you a cashier’s check,” Stone said. “Thanks for your time.” He walked out of the showroom, put up his umbrella and ran back to his car, avoiding the deeper puddles. Well, he thought, Mr. Bartlett has lied about his residence and his car. He is obviously now watching his back. Stone sat in the car and called the Minneapolis Police Department.

“Ebbe Lundquist, in homicide,” he said to the operator.

“Homicide,” a man’s voice said.

“Ebbe Lundquist, please.”

“Lieutenant Lundquist is out of the office for a few days.”

“Might he have gone to Florida?”

“That’s right. Can someone else help you?”

“No, thanks,” Stone said. He broke the connection and called Dan Griggs.

“Hello?”

“Morning, Dan, it’s Stone Barrington. I believe you talked to a Lieutenant Lundquist yesterday?”

“Right.”

“I think he’s on the way down here.”

“He must have found out something that got him moving,” Griggs said.

“I think he wants to talk to Paul Bartlett,” Stone said. “I’ve learned that Bartlett didn’t buy a Bentley but a black BMW 750i. Also, he’s moved into the Colony Hotel. I think Lundquist might appreciate it if you put a man on him. He seems to be getting slippery.”

“I can do that.”

“Tell him not to crowd the guy. Our friend Mr. Bartlett is getting nervous, and we wouldn’t want him to bail out before Lundquist has a crack at him.”

“I’ll tell my man to work wide. Thanks, Stone.”

“And I’d appreciate a call if there are any developments.”

“Sure. You learn anything about that protocol ten-oh-two thing?”

“I talked to my old partner in New York. His guess is that Bartlett is, or rather was, in the Justice Department’s witness protection program, and that he jumped ship and set up a new identity on his own.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Griggs said. “Has he got anything to back it up?”

“No, it’s just his hunch, but I think it’s a good one. By the way, he’s coming down here soon, and I’d like for you to meet him. His name is Dino Bacchetti, and he commands the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct.”

“Love to greet him,” Griggs said.

“I’ll bring him by. Take care.” Stone hung up. He pulled into traffic and headed back toward the yacht, and his cell phone rang again.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Dino said.

Stone could hear a police siren in the background. “Let me guess; you’re on the way to the airport.”

“That’s right,” Dino said. “My flight arrives at two-thirty.” He gave Stone the flight number.