Kisser

by Stuart Woods

  “Sorry this is taking so long,” Stone said.

  “Take your time,” the man replied.

  Stone began reading faster, then scanning. Finally, he restacked the sheets and handed them to the man. “Tell Sig thanks,” he said.

  The man returned the pages to their envelope and left.

  Stone called Mitzi.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Stone. Sig sent over his proposal, and I read it.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Too good to be true. There is no corporation or company mentioned, no names of the principals, and no audited balance sheet.”

  “A scam, then?”

  “Of course, what did you expect?”

  “And you weren’t allowed to copy it?”

  “I wasn’t allowed, but I copied it anyway, while the messenger was in the john.”

  “Oh, good. Will you fax it to the U.S. Attorney’s office?”

  “No, but I’ll give it to you, and you can fax it to her without mentioning my name in any context.”

  “Is it really that bad between you and her?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.”

  “Okay, here’s the fax number at the apartment.” She gave it to him. “Dinner tonight?”

  “Can’t tonight.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Let me call you; I’m still in recovery.”

  She laughed. “Poor baby.”

  “Bye-bye,” Stone said. He hung up, gave Joan the fax number, and asked her to send the document to Mitzi.

  “Sure,” Joan said. “Oh, a delivery arrived for you.”

  “Bring it in.”

  Joan came in holding a crystal vase containing at least two dozen red roses. “Here’s the card,” she said, then stood waiting while he read it.

  With fond memories and anticipation

  The card didn’t need a signature; Stone immediately recognized Dolce’s bold, slanted handwriting.

  “Who?” Joan asked.

  “Will you kindly send these to the nearest hospital or old folks’ home?” Stone said.

  “I thought so,” Joan said. “I saw her across the street yesterday afternoon, looking as if she was trying to decide whether to come over here.”

  Stone was further alarmed. “Was she alone?”

  “There was a large man with her.”

  “Her keeper,” Stone said. “Eduardo is allowing her out of the house for shopping trips.”

  “Oh, then she must be a lot better,” Joan said.

  “Don’t you believe it,” Stone replied. “I saw the look in her eyes: She’s still mad dog crazy.”

  Joan looked worried. “Oh, God, what should I do if I see her out there again?”

  Stone thought about that. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, thanks, that’s very helpful. Should I call the cops or just shoot her?”

  “Neither of those options works for me,” Stone said. “Are you on friendly terms with Eduardo’s secretary?”

  “Well, I imagine her as some sort of Sicilian bat, hanging upside down in his house, but she’s civil, in an abrupt sort of way.”

  “Call her and tell her you didn’t want to mention this to me, but Dolce is hanging around my house.”

  “That’s taking yourself out of it very nicely,” she said.

  “Look, I do not want to call Eduardo and tell him his lunatic daughter is stalking me.”

  “No, you want me to do it.”

  “No, just mention it to his secretary in the terms I outlined, and I’m sure word will get to Eduardo in the proper manner.”

  “You know I have a.45 in my desk drawer, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I know it. Have I ever mentioned to you the amount of paperwork and the number of court appearances required to deal with charges of murder and possessing an illegal weapon?”

  “It’s not illegal; you got me a license, remember? I can even carry it around.”

  “Getting you that license the way I got it is almost as difficult to deal with as a murder charge,” Stone said. “So for God’s sake, don’t shoot Dolce-or anybody else.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Joan said, and flounced out.

  “And don’t flounce!” Stone called after her.

  Joan buzzed again. “Bob Cantor on one.”

  “Hello, Bob, what’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s down,” Bob said, “the spirits of the Leahy boys.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “They’re bored stiff. They’re saying I promised they could shoot somebody, but there’s nobody there.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry they’re not being entertained by shooting people. You’d think they would be happy they’re not being shot at.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “All right, tell them to drop the surveillance on Carrie, and tell them to explain carefully to her that they think there’s no longer any danger.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Bob said with a faked sob. “Bye-bye.” He hung up.

  Stone tried to think of something to do.

  42

  STONE WAS HAVING A SANDWICH in the kitchen when the phone rang. Joan was at lunch, so he picked it up. “Stone Barrington.”

  “It’s Tiffany Baldwin, Stone,” said the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York.

  “Hello, Tiff,” he said warily. “I didn’t know you were speaking to me.”

  “Well, you made up for everything by sending me this very nice fax this morning.”

  How the hell did she know it came from him? “Which fax was that?”

  “The one about this character, Sig Larsen.”

  “Oh, that one.”

  “I know you sent it to the NYPD first, but when I got it, it still had your imprint at the top from your fax machine.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is a very interesting situation,” she said.

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “I thought the NYPD had mentioned Larsen’s name to you.”

  “Maybe to a minion, but it didn’t float up to my desk until your fax came in.”

  “I’m happy to be of help.”

  “Have you actually met this Larsen?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “What did you think of him?”

  “A very slick con man, I thought.”

  “And he’s trying to fleece your client?”

  Stone didn’t want to pour out everything about Mitzi’s undercover work; he didn’t know if she had heard about that. “In a manner of speaking,” he said.

  “I assume it’s a she.”

  “I don’t know why you assume that, but she is a she.”

  “It’s always a she with you, isn’t it, Stone?”

  “Sig Larsen isn’t a she.”

  “And how did you happen across Mr. Larsen?”

  “I was looking into an associate of his for a client, when he turned up.”

  “And who is his associate?”

  “A so-called artist named Derek Sharpe.”

  “I’ve heard of him. Is he complicit in this scam?”

  “He introduced me to Larsen, and he was present when Larsen first mentioned this investment.”

  “You think Sharpe knows it’s a scam?”

  “Based on what I’ve seen and heard of him, I’m prepared to believe the worst about Mr. Sharpe.”

  “So, I should investigate them both?”

  “Tiff, I can’t tell you what to investigate; if you like Larsen and Sharpe, go get ’em. I’d be happy to see them both off the street for an extended period.”

  “You mean your client would be happy?”

  “Him, too.”

  “I thought it was a she.”

  “There’s a he and a she; I don’t believe they’ve met.”

  “Tell me about the she.”

  “She’s from the south, new in the city, wealthy, and Larsen and Sharpe must think she’s v
ulnerable.”

  “Is she?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then you’re giving her good advice.”

  “I try.”

  “What is her name?”

  “I can’t divulge that without her permission.”

  “Then get her permission.”

  “Next time I speak to her I’ll ask her if she’d like to be an undercover agent for the federal government.”

  “You can be smoother than that, Stone.”

  “I find that when someone wants to embroil my client in what might be a dangerous situation it’s better to be blunt about what’s wanted of her.”

  “All right, be blunt with her, but do it quick, all right?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Dinner sometime, Stone? Without the cameras, I mean.”

  “Tiff, I tried to explain that the presence of cameras in my bedroom was unknown to me, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “My investigation of the event confirmed your claim of innocence, if not total innocence.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.”

  “We had some good times,” she said. “It might be fun to revisit them.”

  “Right now, Tiff, I’m embroiled in a number of things that are creating great pressures on my time. Maybe in a few weeks.” She might forget about it in a few weeks.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Tiffany said. “Good-bye.”

  Stone hung up and dialed Mitzi’s cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “I’ve just had a phone call from the U.S. Attorney,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me. You failed to remove my name from that prospectus before you faxed it to her.”

  “I asked Brian to do that,” she said. “I’m sorry, if he didn’t.”

  “I might have known,” Stone said. “Ms. Baldwin would like you to be an undercover agent for her in the pursuit of Sig Larsen. What shall I tell her?”

  “Does she know I’m a cop?”

  “No.”

  “I’d better speak to Brian about this, then.”

  “Do it now; Tiffany is an impatient woman.”

  “You should know,” Mitzi said, with a vocal leer. “I’ll get back to you.” She hung up.

  Stone went back to his sandwich, which had grown cold. He nuked it for a few seconds, then started to eat again. The phone rang.

  “Stone Barrington.”

  “It’s Brian Doyle, your commanding officer.”

  “Go fuck yourself, commander.”

  “I hear you’ve got the U.S. Attorney trying to poach one of my people.”

  “You sent her the fucking prospectus without taking my name off it, as requested. That’s why she called me.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing. I refused her to give her my client’s-Mitzi’s-name. She wants to use her to get at Larsen.”

  “I’m using her to get at Sharpe.”

  “Look, if you’d shown some interest in busting Larsen, this wouldn’t have happened. Trust me, Tiffany Baldwin is going to gnaw away at this case until she knows everything, so my advice to you is to call her right now and offer to share the fruits of your investigation and the use of your undercover officer in making a federal case against Larsen. Maybe Sharpe, too. It’s an easier way for you to get him off the street.”

  “But without the credit.”

  “So work out a credit-sharing plan with Tiff. She’ll keep her word if you get it in writing.”

  “Why did you get me into this shit, Stone?”

  “You got you into this shit, Brian, and unless you call Ms. Baldwin right now, she’s liable to approach you through the commissioner. It would be a lot better if you could tell the commissioner you got the Feds involved and worked out a deal with them.”

  Doyle didn’t say anything for a moment.

  “Look,” Stone said, “if she calls me back, I’m going to have to tell her more.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Stone.”

  “It’s how it is, Brian. Now go deal with it.” Stone hung up. His sandwich was cold again.

  43

  STONE SAT AT ELAINE’S with Dino, gulping bourbon.

  “What’s the matter?” Dino asked.

  “What’s the matter?” Stone made a moue. “Well, let’s see: I’ve been assigned by Eggers to save a fair damsel from the clutches of an evil fortune plunderer, as a result of which I’ve become embroiled in an NYPD undercover drug operation; I’ve been shanghaied back into the department, reporting to Brian Doyle, of all people; I’ve been fucking his undercover detective and her girlfriend at the same time, all the while trying to protect Carrie Cox from her evil ex-husband while fucking her; Tiffany Baldwin has reared her beautiful but addled head again and wants me to fuck her, and she’s going to try to shanghai me into working on her undercover operation to bust Sig Larsen. Let’s see, did I leave out anything?”

  “Well, mostly, it sounds as if you’re fucking every woman in sight. What else is new?”

  “Two undercover operations.”

  “They don’t sound all that daunting.”

  “They’re plenty daunting, believe me; multiple opportunities to get one or more of these women killed along with myself.”

  “Wear armor.”

  “Brian Doyle has thoughtfully provided that along with an ear bug that’s hell to get out once it’s in. Did I mention that?”

  “I don’t remember,” Dino said. “Have another drink.” He waved at a waiter.

  “You talked me into it,” Stone said, draining his glass and setting it aside to make room for another, which arrived with lightning speed. “It’s hot in here,” he said to the waiter. “Please make it cooler.” He patted his forehead with his napkin. “It’s always too hot in here.”

  “It’s the bourbon,” Dino said, “and all this talk about sex.”

  “I used to enjoy sex,” Stone said disconsolately.

  “Don’t you still?”

  “There are too many demands being made on me.”

  “Most guys would be very happy to have those demands made on them.”

  “Maybe I’ll just go up to the Maine house for a while,” Stone said. “Nobody would think of looking for me there this time of year.”

  “That’s because you’d freeze your ass off this time of year,” Dino pointed out. “You wouldn’t enjoy it; you don’t like extremes of temperature.”

  “It seems a small price to pay for a little peace.”

  Eggers came through the front door and headed for their table.

  Stone looked up. “Oh, shit.”

  Eggers hung up his coat and sat down. “Evening, gentlemen.”

  “Evening,” Dino said.

  Stone just stared into his drink.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Eggers asked Dino.

  “He feels put upon,” Dino replied.

  “Put upon?”

  “That’s it, put upon.”

  “I suppose I’m the putter-upon?”

  “One of several, I believe,” Dino said.

  Stone took a gulp of his Knob Creek.

  “Has he been drinking like that all evening?” Eggers asked.

  “No,” Dino replied, “just for the last half hour, but the night is young.”

  “You didn’t return my phone call, Stone,” Eggers said.

  “What phone call?”

  “Don’t you ever get your messages? I sent you an e-mail, too.”

  “I forgot to look at my e-mail.”

  “What’s wrong with you, boy?”

  “Too much sex from too many women,” Dino offered.

  “Good God!” Eggers said. “You haven’t been fucking our client’s daughter, have you?”

  “No!” Stone said. “I haven’t laid a hand on her.”

  “She’s the exception to the rule,” Dino said.

  “Because I don’t know how I would explain that to Philip Parsons,” Eggers said.

  “Since it
’s not happening, you won’t have to explain it,” Stone said, looking up from his glass.

  “Well, it’s a relief to hear that you make an exception now and then. Or is Hildy the first?”

  “Hildy is not the first,” Stone said emphatically. “I have a normal sex life. Normally.”

  Dino burst out laughing, and so did Eggers.

  “Are you people here just to torment me?” Stone asked. “Can’t you see I’m in pain?”

  “Oh?” Eggers said. “Where does it hurt?”

  Dino started laughing again.

  “I withdraw the question,” Eggers said. “Can we have some menus?” he said to a passing waiter. “You’ll feel better, Stone, when you get some food into your stomach to keep the bourbon company.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Stone said.

  “We’re going to have to force-feed him,” Dino said, trying not to laugh.

  “Well,” Eggers said, “I didn’t come here to put any pressure on you.”

  “Thank you, Bill,” Stone said gratefully.

  “Now what the hell is going on with Philip’s daughter and that so-called artist?”

  “Gee, thanks for not putting any pressure on me,” Stone said.

  “Come on, give me the lowdown.”

  “An undercover cop has made a buy from Sharpe, and it’s on tape,” Stone said.

  “So he’s in jail?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “They want him to do it again, so it’ll be a bigger bust. If he does it twice, maybe he’ll get a longer stretch.”

  “How much did he sell the cop?”

  “Half a kilo of coke and a pound of grass.”

  “Shit, that’ll get him at least ten years, no parole.”

  “The legislature repealed the Rockefeller laws, haven’t you heard?”

  “Now that you mention it,” Eggers said. “What would he get now?”

  “Who knows? There’s a lot of money at stake; somebody might get to a judge.”

  “Well, they haven’t repealed greedy judges,” Eggers said. “When is this business going to get wrapped up, so I can return Hildy Parsons to her father intact?”

  “Who knows?” Stone said. “But I wouldn’t count on her being intact.”

  The waiter came, and they ordered. Stone ordered another bourbon. “Did I mention that Dolce is stalking me?” he asked Dino.