by Stuart Woods
She hung up and held up the napkin for Stone and Dino to see.
“Robert Marshall,” Stone read aloud.
Dino took Holly’s hand. “Holly, would you like to come work for the NYPD as liaison with the Feds?”
8
HOLLY GOT UP and went to the ladies’ room, leaving Stone and Dino alone.
“So, how’s it going?” Dino asked.
“Well, I stepped in a steaming pile of shit today.”
“What else is new? What is it this time?”
“Remember Lance Cabot?”
“The rogue ex-CIA guy in London?”
“Yes, but it turns out he’s not a rogue, just CIA. The rogue was Hedger, the guy who hired me. Lance is in New York and he turned up at my office today and asked me to represent a guy who’s been doing some contract work for them. Apparently, he’s had a DUI and a couple of other things, and the Agency wants his mess cleaned up. I didn’t want to do it, but he offered me seven-fifty an hour, and he sent around a brown envelope stuffed with twenty-five thousand in crisp, new hundred-dollar bills.”
“That doesn’t sound so shitty. What’s the problem?”
“The guy I’m representing is Herbie Fisher.”
“That schmuck that we had to hunt down in the Virgin Islands?”
“One and the same.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind? There isn’t enough money to make dealing with that guy worth it.”
“Well, yes, but I agreed to represent him before he told me the name. We shook hands on it.”
“Well, unshake his fucking hand.”
“I gave him my word.”
“Stone, Lance Cabot and the people he works for would screw you in the blink of an eye, if it was worth their while, and maybe just for the fun of it.”
“Actually, my dealings with Lance have been, if not exactly straightforward, then conducted in an honorable manner.”
“Stone, this is the guy who hustled you into putting up a quarter of a million dollars to finance a theft from the British government, then disappeared into thin air.”
“I got my money back, remember?”
“Yeah, but he promised you a million-dollar profit, too. Whatever happened to that?”
“It’s in my brokerage account, less taxes.”
Dino stared at him, stupefied.
“No kidding.”
“You never told me that.”
“Where is it written that I have to tell you everything?”
“Where is it written that I can’t put a gun to your head and pull the trigger? You’d fucking well better tell me everything. I was involved, remember?”
“As I recall, your involvement was pretty much confined to lying around the Connaught Hotel, watching cricket matches on TV and gaining weight on room service.”
“Not all that much weight,” Dino said defensively.
“Have you lost it?”
“Most of it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Well, it was a pretty good hotel, and your friend Hedger was paying.”
“By the way, Hedger is dead. He was knifed near the Connaught by an ex-cop that I had hired to follow Lance.”
“You had him snuffed?”
“Of course not; it was nothing to do with me. Well, not much to do with me.”
Dino shook his head. “Wherever you go, people drop dead, and women take off their underwear. I don’t know how you do either of those things.”
Holly returned to the table. “So, have you been talking about me in my absence?”
“No,” Dino and Stone said as one man.
“Well, that’s insulting. I thought you might have said something nice about my ass as I walked away.”
“It’s a very nice ass,” Dino said. “I mentioned that to Stone.”
“You did not.”
Stone turned to Holly. “He did not. I noticed, though. I just didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, sure,” Holly replied. “What’s for dinner?”
“I’m having a spinach salad, chopped, and the spaghetti alla carbonara,” Stone said.
“Me, too.”
“All right,” Dino said, “I’ll join you. Why confuse the waiter by ordering something different?”
Frank appeared, and they ordered.
“I’m confused,” Frank said. “You all had the same drinks, and now you’re having the same dinner?”
“What’s confusing about that?” Dino asked.
Frank shook his head and walked away.
Stone’s cell phone vibrated, and he dug it out and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Stone?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“It’s Herbie Fisher! How are you?”
Stone groaned. “I’m in the middle of dinner, Herbie. Call me in the morning.”
“Isn’t this great? You’re representing me again!”
“No, it’s not great, Herbie, and my food is getting cold. Call me in the morning.”
“Do I take two aspirin?”
“What?”
“You know, take two aspirin and call me in the morning. Isn’t that what lawyers say?”
“That’s what doctors say, Herbie.”
“Whatever. So you’re going to make these charges go away?”
“I’m going to do the best I can for you, Herbie.”
“Lance said you were going to make them go away.”
“What did you do? What are the charges?”
“Wait a minute. I’ve got the ticket here somewhere.” There was the sound of papers rustling.
“That your new client?” Dino asked, smirking.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Why do I have to shut up?” Herbie asked.
“Not you, Herbie. Did you find the ticket?”
“Well, yeah, but you wanted me to shut up.”
“Herbie, I was talking to somebody else. I’m in a restaurant, having dinner with friends. Or, at least, I was, until you called.”
“Yeah, I got the ticket right here.”
“What does it say the charges are?”
“Let’s see: DUI, driving with a suspended license, and—you’re not going to believe this, Stone—resisting arrest with violence.”
“And why wouldn’t I believe that, Herbie?”
“You know me, Stone. I’m not a violent person.”
“What did you do to the cop, Herbie?”
“It’s kind of hazy. I’d had a couple beers.”
“Did the cop Breathalyze you?”
“Yeah.”
“What was the reading?”
“Two-point-oh.”
“Jesus, Herbie, that’s more than double the legal limit! Could you even walk?”
“Not good. Like I said, it’s all pretty hazy.”
“Why was your license suspended, Herbie?”
“Oh, I guess that was that other DUI.”
“You had a previous DUI? When?”
“I don’t know, two, three weeks ago.”
“So you’ve had two DUIs in less than a month?”
“I guess.”
“What did the judge give you for the first one?”
“Community service and DUI school.”
“Have you performed any community service?”
“Not yet. I been pretty busy.”
“Did you attend DUI school?”
“Not all of it.”
“How many times did you go?”
“Uh, once.”
“It’s three classes, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And you went to just one?”
“Stone, you have no idea how boring those classes are.”
“Herbie, you have no idea how boring it is in a cell on Rikers Island.”
“Well, you’re not going to let that happen, are you? Lance said you’d make it all go away.”
“Herbie, back to the resisting arrest with violence: What did you do to the cop?”
“Well, we argued a li
ttle.”
“That’s not violence. What did you do to him?”
“It’s all pretty hazy. I might have kicked him.”
“Oh, Jesus. Kicked him where?”
“Maybe in the balls.”
Stone made a whimpering noise. “I have to finish dinner, Herbie. Call me in the morning.”
“I have to be in court in the morning.”
“You mean there’s another charge?”
“No, it’s the same one.”
“And your court appearance is tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah.”
“At what time?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“That’s just great, Herbie. I’ll meet you in the hallway outside the courtrooms at nine-thirty, and you’d better be there, sober and neatly dressed.”
“All right, I’ll be there,” Herbie said, sounding chastened.
Stone hung up.
“Where did Herbie kick the cop?” Dino asked.
“In the balls.”
Dino and Holly collapsed in laughter.
9
STONE GOT TO the courthouse at eight a.m. and went upstairs to the warren of cubicles and offices that housed the assistant district attorneys.
“Hey, Maria,” he said to the middle-aged Italian-American woman who ruled the front desk. “You’re looking beautiful today.”
“You’re so full of shit, Stone,” the woman replied sweetly. “What brings you downtown? Haven’t seen you since the Christmas party.” She waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.
Stone ignored the reference to the Christmas party. “A client has an appearance this morning. Can you tell me who caught his case?”
“What’s his name?”
“Herbert Fisher.”
Maria giggled. “Oh, him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s the one who kicked the cop in the crotch, isn’t he?”
“It is so alleged,” Stone said. “Who’s the ADA?”
“Oh, that would be Dierdre Monahan.”
Stone winced.
“Yeah.” Maria giggled again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, there have been rumors.”
“Don’t ever believe rumors,” Stone said. “Is Dierdre in the same stall?”
“Are you saying she’s horsey?”
“Cubicle.”
“No, she’s moved up a little. She has an office now, but no window.” She waggled a thumb. “Down at the end, there.”
“Thanks, Maria.” Stone walked around the desk and started down the hallway, feeling nervous. He and Dierdre had gotten drunk and had a little thing after last year’s Christmas office party at the courthouse. The thing had occurred on a conference table next to the chief deputy DA’s office, and the door hadn’t been locked. He hadn’t seen her since. He rapped on the glass door.
“Come in, but it had better be good!” she shouted.
Stone opened the door and stuck his head in. “Morning, Dierdre. Got a minute?”
Dierdre was a striking woman of thirty-something who came from a long line of Irish cops and had four brothers currently wearing the uniform. “Faith and begorra,” she said sardonically. “And I was thinkin’ you was dead in your grave.” She dropped the Irish accent. “Come in and sit down, Stone.”
Stone went in and sat down. “So, how have you been?”
“Since last Christmas, you mean? You could have called and asked.”
Stone felt his ears redden. “It’s been a crazy year,” he said weakly.
“You’re blushing, Stone. Don’t tell me the memory of our little time together embarrasses you.”
“Well . . .”
“Just because the chief deputy walked in on us? Now, why should you let a little thing like that bother you?”
“Well . . .”
“I’ve had to take the brunt of it around here. The razzing got so bad I managed to parlay it into a sexual harassment complaint that got me, among other things, this office.”
“I’m glad you were able to turn the situation to your advantage,” Stone said, trying hard to sound sincere.
“I’m glad you’re glad, Stone. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a client at bat this morning at ten,” Stone said, grateful for the change of subject. “Maria says you caught the case.”
“Name?”
“Fisher.”
Dierdre emitted a deep chuckle. “Oh, Mr. Fisher! What a perfect pairing of client and attorney! And I suppose you’ve come to propose a deal?”
“Well, this sort of thing is really a waste of the court’s time—not to mention yours—and since Mr. Fisher is contrite and unlikely to repeat—”
“Mr. Fisher has already repeated,” Dierdre said. “That’s why I caught the case instead of one of the rookies.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, but—”
“And the cop in question—Mr. Fisher’s victim—missed two days of duty because of his injury.”
“Mr. Fisher is very sorry about that. He was very drunk at the time, and—”
“Which is why he was stopped in the first place,” Dierdre replied. She consulted a sheet of paper. “A two-point-oh reading on the Richter scale,” she said. “Judge Goldstein is going to just love that.”
“Judge Goldstein is hearing the case?” Stone’s heart sank. Goldstein’s wife had been injured in a collision with a drunk driver a couple of years back, and he was known as a hanging judge where DUIs were concerned.
“Isn’t that lucky?” Dierdre said. “What sort of deal did you have in mind, Stone?”
“I was thinking a written apology to the officer and community service,” Stone said hopefully. It was only an opening gambit.
“Tell you what: If he pleads out, I won’t ask for the death penalty.”
“Heh, heh,” Stone said.
“I’m glad you find this amusing. So do I.”
“Come on, Dierdre, give me a break here, will you?”
“The poor cop didn’t get much of a break, did he? There he was, just doing his duty, protecting the public from a driver too drunk to stand up straight—”
“All right, spare me,” Stone said, throwing up his hands in surrender. “What can you do for me, Dierdre?”
“How about three to five in Attica?” she proposed.
“Dierdre, please. Let’s be realistic; nobody died.”
“Have you ever been kicked in the balls, Stone?”
“Once, a long time ago.”
“I’m glad you had the experience. I was going to do it myself, just so you’d know the pain involved. Was it fun?”
“No, it hurt a lot.”
“Funny, that’s what the cop said. He’ll be using a cane to make his court appearance today.”
“Why don’t we spare him the court appearance, Dierdre? Make me an offer I can take to my client.”
“Six months and no license for five years.”
“Dierdre . . .”
“He’s lucky I don’t want his license for life.”
“Dierdre . . .”
“Propose what you feel is an appropriate punishment, Stone, all things considered.”
“He doesn’t deserve to go to jail, Dierdre.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Let me explain something else: I’ve been retained by a branch of the federal government that I cannot name. He was doing their bidding at the time he was arrested.”
Dierdre clapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, God, he was drunk and violent for the CIA, is that what you’re telling me? I gotta admit, I’ve never heard that one before, though it’s right up there with the dog ate his driver’s license.”
“Shhhh,” Stone said, making tamping motions with his hands. “I didn’t say that, and you mustn’t repeat it.”
“Is that your way of saying he actually was working for the CIA?”
“I can’t go there,” Stone said, pleading in his voice. “Please believe me when I tell you
.”
“All right, Stone,” she said. “Since it’s you, and you’re a pretty good lay when no one is watching, here’s my best offer: thirty days at Rikers, a thousand-dollar fine, and his license in my desk drawer for three years.”
Stone slumped. Herbie wasn’t going to like this. “I’ll take it to my client,” he said.
“Don’t sound so down, Stone. You did pretty well for the guy, considering.”
Stone didn’t ask, Considering what? He said his goodbyes and left.
“Don’t be a stranger!” Dierdre called after him down the hallway.
“Thanks, Maria,” Stone said as he passed the front desk.
“Did I mention that the cop was Dierdre’s baby brother, Colin?” Maria asked.
“No, Maria, you didn’t mention that.” Stone got out the door as quickly as he could.
10
STONE WENT DOWN to the hallway outside the courtroom and was mildly surprised to find Herbie Fisher, dressed in a sober blue suit and tie, waiting for him, and on time, too.
“Hey, Stone,” Herbie said. “How’s it hanging?”
“You’re the one who’s hanging,” Stone said. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”
“Stone, it was only a DUI, that’s all.”
“It was your second DUI, and you haven’t bothered to do your penance for the first one, which was less than a month ago.”
“Well, hell . . .”
“Let me tell you a few other things that you ought to know,” Stone said. “The cop who received your kick in the crotch was the younger brother of the lady DA who’s prosecuting your case, and the judge who’s hearing it has a wife who was hurt in an accident caused by a DUI. He loves stringing them up by their thumbs.”
Herbie seemed to pale a little. “Can’t we get the DA and the judge, whatchacallit, excused? I mean, they’re both prejudiced against me.”
“Recused. It’s not going to happen because I’ve already gotten you the best possible deal.”
Herbie blew out a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d come through for me, Stone. Lance said you’d make it go away.”
“I didn’t say it was going away. I said I got you the best possible deal.”
Herbie looked worried. “What kind of a deal?”
“You do thirty days, pay a thousand-dollar fine, and lose your license for three years.”
“WHAT?” Herbie yelled. “I’m not doing time for this, and I’m sure as hell not going to give up driving. I just bought a new car!”
