by Stuart Woods
“That’s so simple.”
“Why do you think I make it?”
She attacked her veal chop, and Stone poured a good Australian Shiraz into their glasses.
When they had finished she sat back and rubbed her naked belly. “God, that was good; I’m almost too full to make love again.”
“Would you like some dessert?” he asked. “There’s ice cream.”
“I think I’ll have you for dessert,” she said, taking him by the cock and leading him upstairs.
JOAN UZZED them at nine, waking them.
Stone picked up the phone. “Mmmmf.”
“And good morning to you, too,” Joan said. “There’s a man watching the house.”
“Go look out your office window. Do you see the Leahys?”
She put the phone down for a minute, then came back. “They just drove up, and the man ankled it out of here.”
“Pete stuck a hat pin in him last night,” Stone said. “I guess he didn’t want another one.”
“And where would Peter Leahy get a hat pin?”
“From his grandmother.”
“An heirloom-wonderful.”
“Pete’s an old-fashioned kind of guy.”
“I just thought you’d like to know,” Joan said, then hung up.
Carrie was sitting up in bed now. “I’ve got a rehearsal in half an hour,” she said, climbing out of bed. “I wish I had time to fuck you again.” She ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Stone drifted off for a few minutes until she woke him with a kiss.
“Tell Willie and Peter the next time they see that guy, I’d like them to have a chat with him,” Stone said. “Find out who he is and see if they can connect him with Max.”
“Okay,” Carrie replied. “We’ll talk later.”
“I want the night off,” Stone called after her. “I’m exhausted.”
“We’ll see,” she called back over her departing shoulder.
Stone went back to sleep.
28
STONE WAS WAKENED by the phone again a little after eleven. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Mitzi,” she said.
“Good morning.”
“You don’t sound up yet.”
“I’m awake-up would be too strong a word.”
“Rough night?”
“Not exactly.”
She gave a low laugh. “I got my fake financial statement from Daddy’s office this morning. You’ll be happy to know I’m worth thirty million dollars-on paper, at least.”
“Whose letterhead is it on?”
“William H. Barrow, CPA.”
“Not your father’s. Good.
“Should I just give this to Sharpe?”
“Why don’t you call him and tell him you’d like to meet with him and Sig Larsen again?”
“Okay.”
“Give him your statement and ask how he would handle it.”
“Right.”
“Does it have individual stocks listed?”
“Yes, about forty of them.”
“Good. Tell him you want his plan in writing.”
“Wouldn’t that put him off?”
“You don’t want to be too easy a mark; that would put him off. Con men get special satisfaction from screwing smart marks.”
“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“All right, fooling smart marks.”
“Actually, I did have that in mind, but with you, not Sig.”
“What a nice idea. What’s the setup this time?”
“Not a threesome; I’d rather have you to myself.”
“I’m a little under the weather,” Stone said. “How about later this week?”
“I’ll call you,” she said.
“And you can give me a full report then.”
“I’ll give you more than that.”
“Bye-bye.” Stone hung up and groaned. “When it rains, it pours,” he said aloud to himself.
DINO WAS more cheerful than usual. They had met at P. J. Clarke’s for lunch and were having burgers and beers.
“You’re in a good mood,” Stone said.
“Ben got accepted at Choate,” Dino said, speaking of his son.
“Congratulate him for me.”
“I will.”
“Doesn’t this mean you’ll see him less often?”
“Well, yeah, but it means I’ll have to deal with Mary Ann less often, too. No squabbles about which days I see him or what we do together.”
“I’m sure Eduardo will miss him.” Eduardo Bianci was Dino’s ex-father-in-law, a very rich man who had been-perhaps still was-a major Mafia figure, but who had been very discreet about it, ruling from afar.
“That’s true, and I feel for the old man. I’ll make sure Ben sees his grandfather when he’s home.”
“How is Eduardo?”
“Amazingly well. For a man his age, I’d guess you’d say he’s in robust good health. I’m sure he’d appreciate a call from you.”
“I’ll call him today.”
“How’s it going with Carrie?”
“She’s wearing me down,” Stone replied. “Literally.”
“You lead such a tough existence,” Dino said.
“You don’t know the half of it. What are you doing for female company since splitting the blanket with Genevieve?”
“Catch as catch can,” Dino replied.
“As long as you catch a few.”
“There’s the desk sergeant at the 19th,” Dino said. “We have a nice evening about once every week or two. Keeps the machinery oiled and working.”
“She’s the one who ended your marriage, isn’t she?”
“No. Mary Ann took care of that; Sarge was just the excuse.”
“Is that what you call her?”
“In bed as a joke.”
“What’s her real name?”
“Madge Petrillo.”
“Not married, is she?”
“Nah, divorced. I think she may be banging the captain, too, but if so, they’re very, very discreet.”
“Busy lady.”
“You know it. How’s the Derek Sharpe operation going?”
“It’s going. Mitzi’s a smart cop; she’s handling it very well. I’m just trying to stay out of the way.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Well, I’ve seen Sharpe with her a couple of times, and I give her advice.”
“That’s very fatherly of you. What else is going on there?”
“Let’s not get into that,” Stone said, a little embarrassed.
“Oh, so that’s what’s going on.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“What, you think I condemn you for sleeping with more than one woman at a time?”
“It’s your Catholic upbringing,” Stone said.
“I got over that a long time ago,” Dino replied.
“Catholics never get over it. I’ll bet you still go to confession.”
“Every couple of years, maybe. I love shocking the priest.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not Catholic,” Dino said. “At confession, you’d give a priest a heart attack.”
“You’re right. It’s a good thing I’m not Catholic; I’m not sure I could bear the guilt.”
“Guilt is very important,” Dino said. “It keeps you on the fairly straight and narrow.”
“The fairly straight and narrow? I like that.”
“So do I,” Dino said.
They split the check and walked outside, where Dino’s unmarked car with driver awaited him.
“You want a lift?” Dino asked.
“No, thanks. I think I’ll walk home, get some exercise.”
“I thought you were getting lots of exercise,” Dino said, laughing.
“Well, the cardiovascular thing is important,” Stone said.
“See you later.” Dino got into his car and was driven away.
Stone wal
ked home and entered through the outside door to his office.
Joan flagged him down. “Eduardo Bianci’s secretary called. He would like you to come to lunch at his home tomorrow at noon.”
Eduardo was a mind reader, Stone thought. “Say that I accept with pleasure.”
29
STONE DROVE OUT to the far reaches of Brooklyn to the elegant Palladian house with a view of the water that was the home of Eduardo Bianci.
Stone’s relationship with Eduardo went back some years, to a time that predated even his brief marriage to Eduardo’s daughter, Dolce. Dolce was an extraordinarily beautiful woman who turned out to be deeply disturbed, with homicidal tendencies, which were directed mostly at Stone and cost him considerable discomfort, including the pain of a bullet wound. Dolce, now safely ensconced in a suite of rooms in Eduardo’s house, was tended by an elderly aunt and professional nursing help. No one but Eduardo had seen her for years.
Stone was admitted to the house by Eduardo’s wizened butler, who, according to Dino, previous to-and perhaps after-his employment by Eduardo, had pursued a highly successful career as an assassin, specializing in the Sicilian stiletto. He greeted Stone with a tight smile, or grimace, depending on interpretation, and led him to the rear garden, where Eduardo waited, seated at an umbrella-shaded table near the edge of the pool.
Eduardo, who was unaccustomed to rising for anyone short of the Holy Father, did not rise but extended a slender hand and gave Stone a warm handshake and a broad smile, revealing either amazing teeth or gorgeous dental work, Stone had never figured out which. He was dressed, as usual, in a dark suit, a white silk shirt, and a muted pin-dotted necktie.
“Stone,” Eduardo said in his smooth, rich baritone-the voice of a much younger man-“how very good to see you. It has been far too long.”
Stone took a seat. “It’s good to see you, too, Eduardo. Oddly enough, I was on the point of telephoning you yesterday when I returned from lunch and got your message. You’re looking extremely well.”
“I am extremely well for a person of my age,” Eduardo said,
“and I am grateful to my ancestors for the genes passed down to me. My father lived to a hundred and three, and my mother only a year short of that. When she died, my father remarried shortly afterward to a woman of fifty. He told me he had considered a woman of thirty-five but did not wish to be burdened with more children at his age.”
Stone laughed. The butler appeared with an ice bucket, opened a bottle of Pinot Grigio, and poured them each a glass. “I hear from Dino that Benito has been accepted to Choate, which is wonderful news.”
“Yes, though it means I will see him less often. I think it will be good, though, for him to be out of the city and in the companionship of boys who will grow into leaders in this country.”
“I’m sure he will fare well in their midst,” Stone replied.
“I have great plans for the boy,” Eduardo said.
“Oh? Have you already chosen a profession for him?”
“Not those sorts of plans,” Eduardo said, shaking his head. “He will excel at whatever work he chooses. Eventually, he will, with my advice and that of his mother, look after my interests until they become his own.”
“What are your interests these days, Eduardo?”
Eduardo permitted himself a small laugh. “You are curious, aren’t you, Stone?”
“I confess, I am.”
“My interests are broad and deep, ranging from Wall Street, which has been a disappointment lately, to Silicon Valley, with many stops in between.”
“Are you still involved in banking?”
Eduardo shook his head slowly. “No. At a board meeting many months ago I heard of this awful bundling of mortgages. I looked into it and immediately resigned from three boards and sold all my bank shares over a period of weeks, well before the crash. A bit later, I moved to cash in the market. Now I have begun to buy again, companies with futures and at very good prices.”
Lunch was served: medallions of pork in a garlicky sauce, with tiny, crisp potatoes and perfectly cooked broccoli.
When the plates were taken away, Eduardo leaned back in his chair. “I am given to understand,” he said, “that you are involved with two men called Sharpe and Larsen.”
Stone was once again astonished at Eduardo’s apparent knowledge of everything about everybody. “I met them both recently,” Stone said. “Beyond a couple of dinners I am not directly involved with either.”
“I must tell you, Stone, that it is dangerous to invest with Mr. Larsen, as I have reason to believe that he has created a Ponzi scheme along the lines of that perpetrated by Bernard Madoff but on a much smaller scale.”
“He will not see any of my money,” Stone replied, “such as it is.”
“Good. And I must tell you that it is dangerous merely to be in the company of Mr. Sharpe.”
“How so?”
“The gentleman has ventured into waters that are rather thickly populated by others of more experience and cunning. In addition, he has attracted the attention of the police, and when his business associates learn of this, his existence will become uncertain.”
“I will certainly heed your warning,” Stone said. “And I will tell you, in confidence, that I have had a hand in pointing the police in his direction.”
Eduardo looked surprised, an expression Stone had never seen on his face. “Have you, really? That speaks well of you, Stone.”
“I’m afraid that Mr. Sharpe has gained some sway over the soon-to-be-wealthy daughter of a client of Woodman & Weld, and I was asked to see what I could do about it.”
“Ah, that would be Miss Parsons, would it not?”
“It would.”
“I had heard that she had been seen often in Mr. Sharpe’s company, and I was concerned. Her father is a friend of mine, and I have bought a number of artworks from him over the years. I hope that your endeavor will be successful soon, for I fear there is not much time.”
Dessert was served, a light, Italian cheesecake. Then, over coffee, Eduardo radically changed the subject.
“Dolce has been feeling much better the past few months,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Stone said carefully. Not since the divorce Eduardo had effected for him had he mentioned his daughter’s name to Stone.
“She has expressed a desire to see you,” Eduardo said.
Stone nearly choked on his coffee. “If, in your judgment, that would be a good idea, then I would be happy to see her.”
Eduardo laughed his little laugh again. “That was an artful lie, Stone,” he said, “but in my judgment, as you put it, I think it would be good for Dolce to speak with you for a short while.” Eduardo turned and looked over his shoulder toward the rear terrace of the house.
Stone followed his gaze and saw Dolce, clad in a pretty, summery dress, standing on the terrace. His heart stopped. Then she began walking slowly toward them.
“If you feel that, then I will redouble my efforts.”
30
SHE LOOKED YOUNGER, somehow, than when Stone had last seen her, when she was being hustled into a private ambulance, wearing a straitjacket, frothing at the mouth. She now seemed untroubled, at peace, and not in the least dangerous.
Stone got to his feet. “Hello, Dolce,” he said, offering his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
Dolce took his hand then offered a cheek. “And you, Stone,” she said.
Stone moved to kiss the cheek, but she turned her head to place his lips at the corner of her mouth and flicked her tongue snakelike at his. He gave her the chair next to her father, then sat down with her between them. “You’re looking very beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you, Stone. You were always so gracious.”
Why then, he asked himself, did you want so badly to kill me? “Thank you,” he said aloud.
“Dolce has taken up painting,” Eduardo said, “and she is exhibiting a hitherto unseen talent.”
“Oh, I painted as a
little girl, Daddy,” Dolce replied. “You just don’t remember. In those days you were preoccupied with business.”
“I suppose I was,” Eduardo said. “I was at that time withdrawing from certain activities and moving into others that seemed more… inviting.”
“You mean more legitimate, don’t you?” she asked, giving him a smile.
“If you wish, my dear.” Eduardo turned toward Stone. “At that time certain federal agencies were taking too much of an interest in my associates. I had managed never to be in a situation where my conversations might be recorded or my face photographed, but I believed that it would be impossible to continue that way for long. As it turned out my beliefs were confirmed more quickly than I had imagined, but by that time, I had receded into privacy, and my communications with my former associates had become less frequent and more indirect.”
“You have always struck me as the most prudent of men,” Stone said.
Eduardo shrugged. “I came to the view, earlier than my partners in… such activities, that those activities, as the saying goes, did not pay, at least not for long nor in proportion to the risks required. I judged that it was better to be involved in enterprises where good behavior was enforced by law rather than by vengeance.”
Stone smiled. “I have had a number of clients who came late to that realization, to their regret.”
“Every one of my associates from those days ended up dead by extraordinary means, deported to birthplaces they did not long for, or permanent guests of the federal government.”
“Daddy, on the other hand,” Dolce said, “ended up lord of all he surveyed and much more.”
“My daughter is too impressed with her father,” Eduardo said, shooting her a glance.
“Did you know he was offered the Presidential Medal of Freedom but declined?”
“I have never wished to be famous,” Eduardo said, “even for a brief moment at the White House.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re too modest,” Dolce said. “You’ve been to the White House many times to visit half a dozen presidents.”
