“I suppose you called about Junior.”
“Yeah, I did. Where the fuck is your client?”
“You know, I think I’ll have this message printed up on cards, so I can just hand them out to people like you, instead of explaining. To wit: I DO NOT REPRESENT EDWIN CHARLES JR. IN ANY CAPACITY. I AM ONLY THE ATTORNEY TO HIS PARENTS’ ESTATE AND, AS SUCH, ACT AS HIS TRUSTEE. How’s that? Plain enough?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Wonderful, I’ll send you a few cards for distribution to anyone you meet who wants to know anything about the kid.”
“Okay, so where is he?”
“Why do you think I know? Give me one shred of evidence of that.”
“Only a shred?”
“A shred will do nicely.”
“You’re his fucking trustee.”
“That does not meet the legal standard of ‘shred.’ It only means that, occasionally, he might call me and ask for more money. I say no, then I hang up. It’s a brief conversation. I live in the hope that, one day soon, he will get the picture and stop calling.”
“Do you ever get mail from him?”
“Well, last week he sent me his dry-cleaning bill, which was returned, marked ‘Addressee unknown.’ Such is the extent of our postal communication. Tell you what: I’ll forward all his mail to you.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you are an intensely suspicious person who cannot abide the truth, even when it rises up and bites you on the ass.”
“Give me just a hint on how to find him.”
“Okay, take the A train to Harlem — with apologies to Duke Ellington — get off, have a look around the station, then take it back to Grand Central, and do the same.”
“It would save us both a lot of time if you would just give me some information about Junior,” Dino said.
“Okay, I’ll save you a lot of time: if ever again you call me with reference to the aforementioned Black Dog, I will unceremoniously hang up on you. Use your free time well.” Stone hung up to demonstrate his intention. He buzzed Joan.
“Yes, sir?”
“From now on, should Dino phone me, question him on his reason for calling. If any reference is made to Eddie Jr., hang up on him.”
“What if he calls back?”
“Same drill.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Hey, how did your housecleaning go?”
“Goodwill was stunned by what was delivered to them. I suggested they hold an auction. The feather boas alone will bring in thousands.”
“Annetta actually wore feather boas?”
“She did. Don’t get me started on her thongs.”
“So, are you in residence now?”
“I will be by dinnertime.”
“Dinner all alone? Awww.”
“Don’t worry, I inherited an excellent cook, who has already been warned that if I gain so much as a pound, she will be taken out and shot.”
“That should ensure you many terrible meals.”
“Maybe, but I won’t gain a pound.”
They both hung up. A moment later, Joan buzzed again. “Dino, on one.”
“Did you hang up on him?”
“I couldn’t. He didn’t mention what’s-his-name.”
Stone pressed the button. “Steady, now, don’t forget and bring up Junior, or I’ll have to hang up.”
“Dinner tonight?”
“Didn’t we have dinner last night?”
“Not quite. P. J. Clarke’s at seven?”
“If you’re sure you can contain your curiosity about the kid.”
“I’ll try.” Dino hung up.
Twenty-Three
Stone walked into P. J. Clarke’s and was shocked to find Dino at the bar chatting amiably with a beautiful woman — a stunner, with bright red hair and green eyes. “Good evening,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Stone Barrington. Who in the world are you?”
“I’m Bridget Tierney,” she replied, shaking his hand.
“I hope my friend, Mr. Peabody, here, hasn’t been bothering you.”
“ ‘Peabody’? He told me his name was Dino Bacchetti.”
“I’m very much afraid that he tells people that all the time, especially attractive women. He also tells a preposterous story about being the New York City police commissioner. Did he try that on you?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said, searing Dino with a glance.
“I’m glad I came along before any real harm was done. Did he invite you to dinner?”
“He did.”
“I’m afraid he can’t afford to dine in good restaurants. He would just stick you with the check.”
“Now that you mention it,” she said, “he does look pretty sneaky, doesn’t he?”
“He’s married, too. Did he mention that?”
“No,” she replied, “he did not.”
“Oh, yes, to a fine woman who has to support him and their four children. She’s taken away his credit cards.”
“All right,” Dino said, “this has gone far enough.”
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Stone asked. “I wonder, Bridget, if you’d like to dine with me, instead? You won’t get the check, I promise.”
“I think I’d like that very much,” she said, hopping off her barstool.
“Right this way.” Stone led her to a table, with Dino tagging along like a puppy, denying all Stone had said.
“Really, Dino, this has gone far enough, hasn’t it?”
But Dino was showing Bridget his badge and ID.
“It’s a very good fake, isn’t it?” Stone asked Bridget. “He’s been using it for years.”
Dino laid down his business card, as well.
“The badge and ID look pretty real,” she said.
“There’s a shop in Times Square that will sell you one just like it. You, too, can be police commissioner!”
The maître d’ approached. “Excuse me, Commissioner,” he said, “there’s a phone call for you.”
“I’ll be right back,” Dino said.
“It’s all part of the act,” Stone said. “We’ll see no more of him tonight.”
“Thank you for rescuing me, Stone.”
“It’s all part of the service.”
“Tell me, are you the infamous Stone Barrington I’m forever reading about on Page Six, of the Post?”
Stone shrugged. “They do have a way of making up things about me,” he said. “Don’t believe everything you read in the columns.”
“Are you a partner at Woodman & Weld?”
“A senior partner. Have you heard of us?”
“I’m a partner at Woodside & Weems,” she said, naming a white-shoe firm.
“Allow me to congratulate you. Have I stolen any of your clients?”
“Not even close.”
“It’s a relief to hear that. It’s so embarrassing when competing firms accuse me.”
“When is poor Dino coming back?” she asked.
“Oh, I think he’s all out of gall for the evening.”
Dino returned and sat down on the other side of Bridget. “Did he jump you while I was gone?”
“No,” she replied, “but he was thinking about it. I could tell.”
“Show her your scar from the bullet wound, Dino. That’s always very convincing.”
“All right,” Bridget said. “This has gone far enough, both of you.” The waiter approached. “I’d like a strip steak, medium, and a loaded baked potato, please,” she said. “And I don’t care who pays for it.”
Stone and Dino ordered, too. “She’s paying,” Stone said to the waiter.
After dinner, Stone invited Bridget back to his house for a drink. “I’m afraid Dino will insist on coming,” he said.
They drove down to Stone’s house, and he let them in.
“The house really belongs to a friend of Stone’s,” Dino said. “He made the mistake of giving Stone a key.”
“Who’s the friend?” she asked.
“A terrible person named Edwin Charles Jr.”