by Stuart Woods
“Pay the clerk,” the judge said, rapping his gavel. “Next case?”
Stone took Herbie’s arm and dragged him out of the well of the courtroom, hoping to get him out before the Monahan brothers regrouped and came after Herbie.
Lance moved out of a row of seats and met them at the rear of the courtroom. “Let’s step outside,” he said, and they went into the hallway.
“You said you’d make it go away!” Herbie wailed.
Stone grabbed him by a lapel and shook him. “It did go away. Didn’t you hear the judge?”
“He said a year!”
“He also said suspended.”
Herbie wiped away a tear. “He did?”
“He did,” Lance said. He took an envelope from an inside pocket and handed it to Stone. “Pay his fine, and let’s get him out of here. Go ahead, we’ll wait here.”
Stone went back into the courtroom, found the clerk, and paid Herbie’s fine with the ten thousand dollars in cash in Lance’s envelope. He got a receipt, then rejoined Herbie and Lance in the hallway.
Lance led them out of the courthouse, and they paused at the bottom of the steps.
“Herbie,” Stone said, “do you know what ‘suspended’ means?”
“It means I’m a free man, doesn’t it?”
“No, it means you’re a free man until the second you fuck up again—until you get a ticket for jaywalking or for playing your car radio too loud—for anything at all. That happens, you’re doing a year at Rikers. You understand that?”
“Yes,” Herbie said.
“Herbie’s not going to fuck up again,” Lance said, staring at Herbie. “You remember your little sojourn in the Virgin Islands last year, Herbie?”
“Yeah, sure,” Herbie said.
“Did you like it there?”
“Yeah, it was great. I had this great deal going where I took pictures at the hotels.”
Lance took an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to Herbie. “I’m glad you liked it, Herbie, because you’re going back. Here’s your ticket.”
“I am?”
“Your flight leaves at six-twenty this evening. A man will pick you up at your home at four o’clock. You have until then to sell your car and pack.”
“I have to sell my car?” Herbie wailed. “But I just bought it!” He pointed at a new Mustang parked at the curb ten yards from where they stood. There were three parking tickets on the windshield.
“I’m afraid there’s no car ferry service to the Virgin Islands,” Lance said. “And since you can’t drive that or any other car for five years, you’ll have no need of it. By the way, there’s a voucher in the envelope for two weeks in a small hotel in Charlotte Amalie and transportation from the airport. There’s also two thousand dollars in cash, to help you get on your feet.”
“Herbie,” Stone said, “if you get into the slightest trouble in Charlotte Amalie, your previous and current convictions will pop up on the police computer, and you’ll find yourself back here, in Rikers, in a heartbeat. Do you understand?”
But Herbie wasn’t listening. “Hey!” he yelled, pointing at his car. A tow truck had pulled to the curb ahead of it. Herbie sprinted to the car, dove inside, got it started, and roared away from the curb, scattering parking tickets in the wind.
“I can’t believe he’s driving home,” Lance said.
“I wouldn’t have expected anything else,” Stone replied. “Lance, what did you say to Judge Goldstein?”
Lance shrugged. “Let’s just say the judge is a patriot. Nice doing business with you again, Stone.”
“Please, Lance, no more.”
“We’ll see,” Lance replied and strolled toward a black Lincoln parked at the curb with its motor running. Lance opened the door and paused. “Dinner tonight?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Elaine’s, eight-thirty.” He got into the car and it pulled away.
Stone noted that the car had a diplomatic license plate. He wanted one of those.
12
STONE GOT HOME around noon and went to his office. “Where’s Holly?” he asked Joan.
“Oh, she borrowed your car and went somewhere.”
Stone blinked. “She borrowed my car?”
“She said you said it would be okay, so I gave her the extra set of keys.”
“Any idea where she went?”
“Not a clue.”
Stone went into his office and signed some letters, then picked up the phone and dialed his car phone number. It rang four times before she figured it out.
“Hello?”
“Holly, it’s Stone. Where are you?”
“Sitting outside the La Boheme coffeehouse, in Little Italy.”
“You’re not going to get my car full of bullet holes, are you?”
“A brochure in the glove compartment says it’s armored.”
“Well, it is, sort of, but I’ve never actually tested the armor. I’d prefer it if you returned it in the same shape as when you drove it away.”
“Well, sure, I’ll try.”
“When, exactly, did I say you could borrow my car?”
“At dinner. Don’t you remember?”
He did not. “I guess. When are you coming home?”
“A couple of hours, if Trini doesn’t show up. If he doesn’t come for lunch, I’ll leave it until later. Can I buy you dinner tonight?”
“No, but a guy from the CIA will buy us both dinner at Elaine’s.”
“The CIA? No kidding?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I’ve never met anybody from the CIA. This ought to be interesting.”
“I hope not. I’ve just spent an all-too-interesting morning in court because of him. I’ve learned that you don’t want interesting, where the CIA is concerned.”
“Holy shit!” Holly yelled.
Stone heard his car start. “What’s going on, Holly?”
“It’s Trini! He’s leaving the La Boheme right now and getting into a Cadillac!”
“Holly, please don’t try a car chase in downtown Manhattan. It’s not like at home in Orchid Beach.” He heard the car’s engine rev.
“I don’t think he saw me,” she said.
“Holly, don’t hang up the phone.”
She hung up the phone.
Stone was left holding a dead receiver. He hung it up and buzzed Joan.
“Yes?”
“Joan, call my insurance agent and confirm that my car is insured for any driver. If it’s not, add Holly Barker as an insured driver, and hurry.”
“Will do.”
Stone tried to think what he could do about this, and he came up with a quick answer: absolutely nothing. This hick-town cop was loose in Manhattan with his seventy-thousand-dollar car, and involved in a chase with an FBI-protected murderer at the front end of things. He buzzed Joan again.
“Yes, Stone?”
“Did you get that insurance thing done?”
“I have them on the other line now.”
“Make sure it’s effective immediately.”
It was after five when Holly returned to Stone’s house.
“Hello?” she called up the stairs.
“Come on up,” Stone called back.
Holly came into his bedroom, shucking off her coat. Daisy padded along beside her, then hopped up onto the bed with Stone, who had been reading the Times.
“Hello, Daisy,” Stone said, half expecting her to reply. She gave him a big kiss, then lay down and snuggled against him.
“She likes you,” Holly said.
“I’m relieved to hear it.” To his surprise, she started undoing buttons.
“Mind if I use your shower?” she asked, continuing to undress. “The water pressure isn’t too great upstairs.”
“Sure, go ahead,” Stone replied. “In New York, we have these water tanks on the roof, and sometimes the upper floors don’t get the best pressure.” As she continued to undress he reminded himself not to get the water pressure problem fixed.
�
�Water tanks? No kidding?”
“You can go up and take a look,” he said, “but I wouldn’t go like that.” She was down to a bra and panties, or more accurately, some sort of semi-thong thing. “You’d have the neighbors climbing out windows.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” she said, flashing him a big smile. She turned and went into the bathroom, reaching behind her for the bra hook while displaying the backside of the semi-thong thing and a fine pair of buns. She left the door open, but he couldn’t see her. He heard the shower turn on, though.
“How was your day?” she called from the bathroom.
“Hairy,” he replied. “A very strange morning in court.”
“You can tell me about it later,” she said.
He heard the shower door open and close.
Five minutes later, she came out, loosely dressed in his terry robe, toweling her hair. She hopped onto the bed and turned toward him, close. Daisy was between them. “So, tell me about your morning in court.”
“I had this extremely annoying client, Herbie Fisher, with whom I’ve dealt before. He was charged with—”
” The one who kicked the cop in the balls?”
“Yes, and the cop was there with his three big brothers. Their sister was prosecuting.”
“Stacked deck, huh?”
“You might say that.”
“How many years did he get?”
“Twelve months, suspended, a ten-thousand-dollar fine, and loss of his license for five years, which is a godsend to the community.”
“Suspended? Wasn’t this his second DUI?”
“Right.”
“We’re tougher in Florida. You must be some kind of lawyer.”
“I employed no lawyering skills this morning. The CIA guy fixed the judge.”
Holly lifted her head off the pillow. “You’re kidding.”
“I kid you not. Now Herbie is on a plane to Saint Thomas, and the world is a better place, except in Saint Thomas.”
“How did he fix the judge? Pay him off?”
Stone shook his head. “I don’t think Judge Goldstein is the sort who would take a payoff. Lance said the judge was a patriot.”
“Lance is the CIA guy?”
“Right.”
“So he said something to bring out the judge’s patriotic instincts?”
“Apparently.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t want to know. By the way, did I mention that we’re having dinner with Lance?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Stone admitted. “I’d just as soon not see him again.”
Holly planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the bad CIA guy.”
“I don’t know that he’s bad. I used to think so, but now I’m not sure.” He liked the kiss. He wanted to put his arm around her, but Daisy was staring right at him.
“Daisy,” Holly said, “get off the bed and lie down.”
Daisy immediately hopped off the bed and lay down beside the bed.
“Go to sleep,” Holly said.
Daisy laid her head on her paws and closed her eyes.
“Is she really asleep?” Stone asked.
“Close enough,” Holly said. She turned his head toward her and kissed him on the lips.
13
STONE WOKE WITH a crick in his neck, the result of napping most of the afternoon with Holly’s head on his shoulder. That was all they had done, nap, and he wasn’t too happy about that, but somehow, he hadn’t felt it was the right time to go further.
The sound of his hairdryer was coming from the bathroom, then it stopped, and Holly emerged, stark naked, her underwear in her hands. “I’m going to take Daisy for a nice long walk,” she said. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Wear something,” he called after her, while appreciating the sight of her departure. “I wouldn’t want you to get arrested.”
She laughed and disappeared upstairs.
Stone got up, still groggy, and got into a shower. He emerged feeling brighter. The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dino. Dinner?”
“Sure, meet me at Elaine’s. Lance Cabot will be there.”
“No shit? The CIA guy?”
“One and the same.”
“How’d Herbie’s courtroom appearance go?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Stone told him.
“I don’t believe it.”
“See?”
“Goldstein did that? I thought he was Mr. Ironass.”
“Lance says he’s a patriot.”
“He’s lucky Goldstein didn’t have him arrested on the spot. I wouldn’t mess with that guy on a bet, especially about a DUI.”
“A DUI that included violence upon the crotch of a police officer. Turns out the cop was Dierdre Monahan’s little brother, and she caught the case.”
“You’re lucky Lance showed up.”
“Herbie was lucky. I had negotiated thirty days in Rikers for him, and he got off with a suspended sentence because of whatever Lance said to Goldstein.”
“Go figure.”
“Yeah. Eight-thirty?”
“See ya.” Dino hung up.
Holly came back into the room, this time, to Stone’s disappointment, fully dressed. “Is there some sort of park that’s closer to your house than Central Park?” she asked.
“Not so’s you’d notice it,” Stone said. “In Manhattan, a park is often the space where a building used to be. By the way, did I mention the leash law?”
“No, but I figured. Not in the park, of course.”
“Especially in the park. It’s a hundred-buck fine.”
“That’s cruel to dogs.”
“And to dog owners.”
“You’re perfectly serious about this?”
“You didn’t believe me about picking up the dog poop, either, did you? We do things differently in New York.”
“This is taking some getting used to.”
“Daisy seems to be managing.”
“She’s very adaptable, like me.”
“You’re adaptable?”
“Of course. Have you heard any complaints from me? I mean, any at all?”
“Only about having to pick up dog poop.”
“That’s about Daisy, not about me.”
“You’re the one picking it up. Daisy is just doing what comes naturally.”
“All right. Have you heard any complaints from me, except about Daisy?”
“Not so far.”
“That sounds as though you’re expecting some.”
“I hope not.”
She came over, grabbed him by the front of his robe, and kissed him. “Don’t worry about it.” She turned and walked down the stairs, followed closely by Daisy.
They got a cab to Elaine’s. As they approached the restaurant, Stone noticed a man standing out front, just uptown from the yellow awning, holding a briefcase. He looked out of place somehow. Stone wasn’t sure how. “Driver, stop here,” he said. The cab halted a couple of doors up, and Stone looked hard at the man. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and switched hands with the briefcase. Stone noted a Cadillac double-parked just downtown from the entrance.
“That’s seven-fifty,” the cabbie said.
“Drive around the block,” Stone said.
“Huh?”
“Start the meter again and drive around the block to your right, slowly.”
“Whatever you say, mister.” He pulled away from the curb.
Stone got out his cell phone.
“Are we early?” Holly asked. “Do you have a thing about being early?”
“Shhh,” Stone said. “Dino?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way.”
“Listen, do you remember a few years back we had that weapons guy come into the precinct and show us a lot of stuff?”
“Vaguely,” Dino said. “Wh
at about it?”
“Do you remember that Heckler & Koch thing he showed us with the H&K machine gun in the briefcase? There was a hole in one end that took the barrel, and the shell casings were routed to the bottom of the case when the thing was fired?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Well, there’s a suspicious character standing outside Elaine’s holding a briefcase that looks just like the H&K one, and it has a hole in it.”
“Where are you?” Dino asked.
“Driving around the block, slowly,” Stone replied.
“Keep doing that until you hear from me,” Dino said. “I’m on it.”
Stone closed his cell phone.
“What’s going on?” Holly asked.
“This afternoon, you said you were following Trini in a Cadillac?”
“Yes.” She put a hand to her mouth. “And there was a Cadillac double-parked outside Elaine’s. It was black, too, just like the one I followed.”
“Yeah. I didn’t ask you what happened with your pursuit.”
“I lost him in Brooklyn. I think it was Brooklyn, anyway. I followed him across a bridge.”
“Any chance the Cadillac could have followed you back to my house?”
Holly sank down in her seat. “Oh, my God. You were right. New York is not like Orchid Beach.”
14
THE CAB WENT around the block again, and when they turned downtown on Second again, Stone told the driver to stop at the corner before the restaurant. He opened the door and got out so he could see better. Holly did the same on the other side.
Dino’s car was double-parked a few yards ahead of them, and Stone could make out a commotion on the sidewalk in front of Elaine’s. A man Stone recognized as Dino’s cop driver was pointing a gun into the Cadillac and barking orders.
“Holly, do you have my Walther with you?” Stone asked.
“In my purse,” Holly said.
“Get back in the cab and hand me the gun.” He leaned down, reached across the backseat, and accepted the pistol.
“There’s one in the chamber and six in the magazine,” she said.
“Please stay in the cab until I wave you in.” Stone gave the cabbie a twenty, then closed the door and went to the sidewalk and started down the street toward Elaine’s with the Walther in his hand. He could see now that Dino was on the sidewalk, cuffing the man with the briefcase.
