Kisser

by Stuart Woods

  “At five thirty in the morning?” she asked. “What kind of emergency comes up at this hour?”

  “Gotta run,” Stone said, grabbing a jacket. “Go back to sleep, and when you wake up, Helene will fix you some breakfast.” He trotted down the stairs and out the front door just as, miraculously, a cab drove by. He stopped it in its tracks with a loud whistle.

  AT SIX in the morning the Lenox Hill ER was already getting busy. As Stone strode toward the admitting desk he was intercepted by Willie Leahy.

  “Hang on, Stone. They said we can see her in a few minutes.” Willie dragged him toward a chair and sat him down.

  “What happened?” Stone asked.

  “Last night, Carrie left the house and went to your house, walked right past me, and I didn’t have time to stop her before she got in the cab. I got the next one and followed her.”

  “Well, I didn’t shoot her. How badly is she hurt?”

  “I know you didn’t shoot her. I got her into my cab after she came out of the house, half naked, and took her home. She was running up her front steps when I heard the shot and saw the guy running away. I didn’t even have time to get off a round.”

  “Willie, tell me: How badly is she hurt?”

  “Flesh wound at the top of the shoulder. Went in and out, bled a lot. I got her here as fast as I could.”

  “Why didn’t you call me then?” Stone asked. He thought he must have been banging Mitzi or vice versa when this happened.

  “Tell you the truth, I was a little shaken up,” Willie said, “and I was covered in blood. Peter brought me a shirt, and after I got cleaned up in the men’s room, I called Bob.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Stone asked, while grateful that he hadn’t.

  “Because I work for Bob, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  A young doctor in blue scrubs came out a door, looked around, and beckoned Willie. Stone followed.

  Carrie was lying on an ER bed that had been cranked to a sitting position, her left arm in a sling. “You two,” she said, pointing at Willie and Stone. “Get me out of here.”

  53

  CARRIE SAT, SEETHING, between Stone and Willie Leahy in the back of the cab.

  “Carrie,” Stone said, “I…”

  “I’m not speaking to you,” she said.

  “Now wait a minute…”

  “And I’m not listening, either.”

  Willie wisely kept his mouth shut.

  “Willie,” Stone said, “did you get a look at him?”

  “At his back,” Willie said. “Tall, slim, black raincoat.”

  “It was Max,” Carrie said.

  “Did you see him?”

  “I didn’t need to see him,” she replied. “It was Max.”

  “Carrie, during rehearsals has anyone shown any animosity toward you?” Stone asked.

  “Everyone,” she replied.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I’m the star; nobody likes the star.”

  “And you’ve been behaving like the star?”

  “It’s my right.”

  Stone looked at Willie. “I think the list of suspects is growing.”

  “Yeah,” Willie said. “Anybody in the show could have done it; she’s been a perfect bitch.”

  “What?” Carrie screamed. “You’re fired!”

  “I don’t work for you, remember?” Willie seemed to have had enough.

  “Stone, fire him this minute.”

  “He doesn’t work for me,” Stone said, “and I don’t doubt for a minute that Willie is right.”

  Carrie started to get out of the moving cab, but Stone and Willie held her down.

  “You’re hurting me!” she shouted.

  “No, you’re hurting you,” Stone said. “Stop it.”

  Amazingly, she went both limp and silent. The cab arrived, and the three got out.

  “I want to go to bed,” Carrie said. “I’ve got a rehearsal at ten.”

  “You’re going to be late,” Stone said. “You’ve got to talk to the police before you can go anywhere.”

  “The police? Why?”

  “Because they take gunshot wounds seriously, and Lenox Hill Hospital has already reported this one to the police. We just happened to get out of the ER before they arrived.”

  As they reached the top of the steps an unmarked police car pulled up, and two detectives got out. Stone didn’t know them.

  “Carrie Cox?” one of them asked.

  “Come on in, fellas,” Stone said, flashing the Brian Doyle badge. “Let’s get this done.”

  Stone left the four of them in the living room and used the kitchen phone.

  “Bacchetti.”

  “It’s Stone. Can you get over to Carrie’s house?” He gave Dino the address.

  “What for?”

  “Somebody took a shot at her, only a graze. Probably her ex-husband. She’s supposed to open in the big show next week, and we don’t want it in the papers.”

  “Any of our people there?”

  “Two. I didn’t get their names.”

  “Gimme fifteen minutes.”

  Stone went back to the living room and sat down, knowing that Willie would have steered the conversation in his absence.

  “You got anything to add?” one of the detectives asked Stone.

  “Nope. I wasn’t here. I went to the hospital as soon as I heard.”

  “Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

  “I am the police,” Stone said. “You want to see my badge again?”

  “What precinct?”

  “The First.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  Stone gritted his teeth. “Lieutenant Doyle. I’m on special assignment.”

  “What kind of special assignment?”

  “If I was allowed to tell you that it wouldn’t be special,” Stone explained. It went on like this until Dino arrived.

  Dino showed his ID. “You two,” he said, pointing two fingers at the detectives, “listen up.”

  The detectives tried to look attentive.

  “I’m taking care of this,” Dino said. “There’s no report to make.”

  “We gotta make a report, Lieutenant,” one of them said softly. Dino was well-known in the department, and they were being appropriately deferential.

  “You don’t gotta do nothing,” Dino said, “except forget this. Mention it to nobody, and if anybody mentions it to you, refer them to me at the Nineteenth. Believe me, you don’t want to be involved in this one.”

  The two detectives looked at each other, then back at Dino. They nodded simultaneously, got up, and left the house.

  “Thank you, Dino,” Carrie said. “That was sweet of you.”

  Dino patted her on the head. “Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” He looked at Stone. “You want a lift?”

  “Please,” Stone said, getting up.

  “You’re leaving?” Carrie asked, looking surprised.

  “There’s nothing more for me to do here,” Stone said.

  “But plenty for you to do in your bedroom,” she said, pouting.

  “My bedroom is none of your business,” Stone said. “Now shut up and let Dino do his work.”

  Stone and Dino left the house and walked down the front steps. “You’re sure it’s the ex-husband?” Dino asked Stone.

  “No. Apparently, Carrie has treated the entire cast of her show like shit. It could be anybody.”

  “I’ll have the airports watched.”

  “Just Teterboro,” Stone said. “The guy flies himself.”

  “That makes it easier.”

  “He’s off the ground by now, but the tower will have a record of his departure.”

  “Where does he land in Atlanta?”

  “Probably Peachtree DeKalb,” Stone replied.

  “I’ll pull a favor and get him talked to. How long would his flight take?”

  “He flies a King Air. Say, three hours. All this happened between five thirty and six. If
he went straight to Teterboro, he’d be in the air by seven. You’ve got a shot at having him met.”

  “But no evidence.”

  “Well, there is that.”

  “What about a bullet?”

  “Passed through,” Stone said, but he turned and looked at the front of the house. “There,” he said, pointing at a brick with a missing chunk. “Ricocheted from there.”

  They both looked around for the bullet but couldn’t find it.

  “It’ll be distorted anyway,” Dino said. “Wouldn’t provide any ballistics to check.”

  They got into Dino’s car and left.

  54

  STONE FOUND MITZI in the garden, dunking a croissant into her coffee.

  “ Charleston manners?” Stone asked.

  “My mother would turn over in her grave,” Mitzi replied, “but I love it this way.”

  Stone asked Helene for some breakfast and sat down at the garden table.

  “So, what was the emergency?” Mitzi asked.

  “Somebody took a shot at Carrie,” Stone said.

  “Hit her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Don’t gloat; it wasn’t that bad. She’s going to rehearsal later this morning.”

  “I’ll bet the list of suspects is a long one,” Mitzi said.

  “How’d you guess?”

  Mitzi made a snorting sound. “You could include all the members of her high school class.”

  “And the cast of her show, apparently, but it was probably her ex-husband. He’s been stalking her.”

  “You think he meant to kill her? I mean, he missed.”

  “Most people are lousy shots,” Stone said. “The untrained just point in the general direction and yank the trigger.”

  “More people should train,” Mitzi said.

  “If they did, we’d just have a lot more successful shootings.”

  “Good point. Do you suppose we could persuade the NRA to support training shooters badly?”

  Stone laughed. “Probably not.”

  “You were good last night,” Mitzi said. “There are times when I’m so discouraged with men that I think about becoming a card-carrying lesbian. You’ve restored my faith in men.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, mostly; a lot of them are still shits. Women are more empathetic.”

  “Am I a shit?”

  “Never,” Mitzi said, “at least, not on purpose.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a compliment.”

  “A higher one than you might think.”

  “You said you took the lieutenant’s exam?”

  “Right.”

  “I thought you were a detective first grade.”

  “I made sergeant two years ago. I don’t talk about it much; three members of my squad flunked the sergeant’s exam.”

  “All the more reason for the brass to transfer you if you get the promotion.”

  “I have other things going for me,” she said. “Some of them might offset male cop jealousy.”

  “Has the department come that far since I retired?”

  “Ask me after a few dozen more cops retire or die.”

  “You think Brian will get bumped upstairs?” Stone asked.

  “I don’t think he’ll be where he is much longer,” she replied.

  “Not even if this bust is a big success?”

  “If it is, it won’t be Brian’s fault. I think enough people in the department know that.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Stone said.

  Helene came into the garden from the kitchen, carrying Stone’s breakfast and the cordless phone. She handed it to Stone. “For you.” She went back to the kitchen.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Tiffany.”

  “Good morning.”

  “Are you alone?”

  Stone thought about this before he answered. “Yes,” he said finally.

  “Let’s have dinner tonight.”

  Stone didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think that’s a good idea until this bust is over. Let’s not get talked about right now.”

  Mitzi’s eyebrows went up. She mouthed, “Tiffany?”

  Stone nodded. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about, though.”

  “What’s that?” Tiffany asked.

  “I think we need a chopper to cover this bust.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re dealing with two experienced and very tricky con men, and I’m worried about being thin on the ground.”

  “Why can’t the NYPD furnish the chopper?”

  “The demand for their air fleet is heavy; yours is lighter.”

  “Should I speak to the commissioner about this?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Stone replied. “All I want is to be able to make a cell phone call and get something in the air instantly.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “I think it’s best to worry too much before the bust than afterward.”

  “Oh, all right, I’ll make the call, but you owe me for this one.”

  “Yes, I owe you.”

  Tiffany hung up without saying good-bye.

  “That’s interesting,” Mitzi said.

  “Asking for a helicopter?”

  “Yes, that, too, but more that Tiffany is calling you.”

  “You know we have some history.”

  “Everybody who reads ‘Page Six’ in the Post knows you have some history.”

  “That was speculation; I didn’t appear in the photographs, and they couldn’t prove that the woman was Tiffany.”

  “Sorry, I should have Mirandized you before I asked about that. But why is Tiffany calling you?”

  “She wants to have dinner.”

  “She wants a second chance to become infamous?”

  “That’s an interesting way to put it,” Stone said. “I never considered that dining with me carried the risk of infamy.”

  “I shouldn’t think it would do either of you any good. It’s obviously a toxic relationship.”

  “Mitzi, you don’t have to talk me out of it; I don’t want to have dinner with her.”

  “Well, you did put her off, didn’t you?”

  “I thought it best.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead.

  Stone rolled his eyes upward. “Do I have lipstick on my forehead now?”

  “It’s very becoming,” Mitzi said, patting his cheek.

  Stone resisted the urge to wipe it off with his napkin.

  Mitzi put down her napkin and stood up. “Well, I have to go to work.”

  Stone stood, too. “Have you heard anything from Derek about the buy?”

  “Not yet. Don’t worry; he’ll call. He’s on the hook.”

  “I hope we can keep him there,” Stone said. He walked her to the front door and let her out, then went down to his office.

  Joan walked in with the mail, took one look at him, and burst out laughing.

  “What?” Stone asked, mystified.

  She put the mail on his desk. “Oh, nothing,” she said, then she went back to her office, chortling.

  55

  DINO WAS UNCHARACTERISTICALLY LATE for dinner at Elaine’s. Stone and Elaine were sitting together, chatting, waiting for him to show. Stone ordered a second Knob Creek.

  “You’re looking better,” Elaine said. “You didn’t look so hot last night.”

  “I’m feeling better,” Stone admitted.

  “You got laid last night, huh?”

  “In a manner of speaking. You know Carrie, the actress?”

  “Sure. From what I hear on the grapevine, everybody’s going to know her next week.”

  “Right.”

  “You weren’t with her last night; you were with Mitzi.”

  “Right again. I had to go to the hospital very early this morning, because Carrie’s ex took a shot at her.”

  “She’s dead?”

  Stone shook his
head. “Barely wounded. She’ll make opening night.”

  “Somebody ought to lock that guy up.”

  “Dino’s working on it.”

  At the mention of his name, Dino walked through the front door and headed for his table. A waiter saw him and ordered his usual Scotch. He sat down at the table, and Elaine pinched his cheek.

  “Aw, come on, Elaine,” Dino said. “Everybody’s watching.”

  “You two enjoy,” Elaine said and moved to another table.

  “Yeah, I know,” Dino said to Stone. “I’m late.”

  “What happened in Atlanta?” Stone asked.

  “You mind if I get a drink first?” A drink appeared before him, and he took a tug at it.

  “So?”

  “Don’t rush me.”

  “Me rush you?”

  “All the time.”

  Stone sighed, sat back, sipped his bourbon, and waited for Dino to speak.

  Dino took another tug at his Scotch. “Okay,” he said, “two Atlanta PD detectives met your man at the airport. He denied being in New York and showed them a flight plan from Charleston.”

  “Anybody can run off a flight plan on a computer,” Stone said. “That doesn’t mean he flew it.”

  “They called the FAA, but there was some screwup. Apparently, he did fly from Charleston, but they weren’t able to figure out when he got there.”

  “And I’ll bet he has a Charleston alibi.”

  “You got it,” Dino said. “And since we don’t have any evidence against the guy-no ID, no bullet-he can’t be touched.”

  “So that’s why you were late?”

  “No. I was at a meeting with Brian Doyle and the commissioner.”

  “Subject?”

  “Your pending bust.”

  “It’s not my pending bust. It’s Brian’s; he owns it.”

  “Yeah, I know, and that’s what worries me. I hear you got Tiffany to give you a chopper.”

  “Shit! Was that mentioned at the meeting?”

  “No, but I have other sources.”

  “I think we need it.”

  “I think you’re right,” Dino replied. “If there’s a way to fuck this up, Brian will find it. He’s a walking, framed copy of Murphy’s Law.”

  “How did he ever make lieutenant?” Stone asked.

  “You mean, whose cock was he…?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I think he did whatever was necessary.”