“It’s on my list of things to do.”
“Well, you’d better move it to the top of your list. Because if you violate one of them, even a little, like leaving New York City, you will be arrested and your two million will vanish in a puff of smoke. And by the way, the Hamptons are not located in New York City.”
“That seems extreme.”
“The court thinks of them as extremely reasonable. And if you violate that or any other of the rules, I will, as an officer of the court, be required to report it to the judge, who will not be understanding.”
“You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Most certainly.”
“Eddie,” Joan said, “why don’t you go lay your head wherever you’re laying your head these days. After, of course, a shower and a scrub.”
“I didn’t like the plumbing facilities in jail,” Eddie explained, “nor the company.”
“Joan,” Stone said. “If he’s not in the street within thirty seconds, you have my permission, as an officer of the court, to shoot him.”
“Sounds like fun,” Joan said, propelling Eddie Jr. down the hallway toward the front door.
Twenty-Seven
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“I have info on Junior.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“If you’d like to lay hands on him, he’s just left my office, headed for either the Athletic Club or the Yale Club.”
“As it happens,” Dino said, “I cannot lay hands on him for the murder charge, because he made bail.”
“I think it may profit you to tail him, because he will almost certainly violate the terms of his bail. He thinks, for instance, that the Hamptons lie in this city.”
“I can’t violate him for leaving town. Get him to violate in the city, and I’m on him.”
“We have only to wait,” Stone said. “It would be handy if one or more of your people were present when he violates.”
“My people have no psychic powers. And I have insufficient manpower at my disposal to make up for that shortcoming.”
“Can you handle dinner?”
“I have a hankering for an Italian fish stew,” Dino replied.
“Caravaggio, at seven,” Stone said.
“I’ll race you.” Dino hung up.
Stone pretended to work for another hour, then the phone rang.
“Bridget on one,” Joan said.
Stone punched the button. “Top o’ the morning to you.”
“You have a terrible Irish accent,” she said.
“Thank you for pointing that out.”
“I just wanted to thank you for a lovely dinner and a lovely the rest of it, too.”
“Dino and I are feasting Italian this evening, at Caravaggio. Care to join us?”
“Does this mean I get two rolls in the hay, instead of just one?”
“Not unless we can exchange Dino for a suitable person of the female persuasion,” Stone replied.
“Perhaps we can arrange that on another occasion soon. Meanwhile, I’ll settle for being had just once this evening.”
“I’m still recovering my health from the last one, but I may be able to rise to the occasion.”
“I’ll look forward to exploring that,” she said. “What time?”
“Seven pm, Seventy-Third, just west of Madison.”
“Done.”
They both hung up.
Joan came into the office with a typed document. “You need to sign this for the judge, to the effect that Eddie’s trust is good for his bail.”
Stone signed. “How’s your new house coming along?”
“Well, I’ve scoured it of everything of Aunt Annetta’s that I hate. So it looks remarkably like a stylish person lives there.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
“I was thinking of having a few people over for dinner soon, say Sunday evening? Will you come and bring a female person?”
“I would be delighted.”
“There’ll be a few people you know. It’s black tie, six-thirty for drinks.”
“Count on me.”
Twenty-Eight
Stone’s car delivered them to the house at six-forty. The butler admitted them and showed them to the elevator, pressing the button for them.
They emerged into the living room that Stone had visited before, but a few flashy things had been removed, and there were large arrangements of fresh flowers scattered here and there.
Joan greeted them and was introduced to Bridget. Stone had never seen Joan dressed to kill, and he was impressed. A butler took their drinks order. “You look glorious,” Stone said, “and so does the house.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Joan replied, obviously excited. The butler whispered something to her. “Oh, some special guests have arrived,” she said. “Excuse me.”
“Shall we circulate?” Bridget asked.
“Let’s wait a minute and see who the special guests are.”
“Are you likely to know them?”
“I know most of the people in this room, but let’s wait and see.” They took a position to one side of the elevator.
Shortly, the doors opened and five people stepped out. Stone knew two of them. “Mr. Mayor and Mrs. Shawn,” Stone said. Of the other three people, two were detectives Stone knew and nodded to; the third was Edwin Charles Jr.
“This young fellow,” the mayor said, indicating Eddie Jr., “was at the mansion for a drink, and we asked him to join us. I expect you know him.”
“All too well,” Stone said, not bothering to shake the outstretched hand. “In fact, his late stepmother, who was my client, took out a TRO, barring him from all of her homes.”
“She’s dead,” Eddie protested.
“Nevertheless, we will respect her wishes.” Stone gestured to the cops, and one of them stepped back onto the elevator, bumping Eddie ahead of him.
“I’m very sorry, Stone,” the mayor said. “We had no idea.”
“Not to worry, Mayor,” Stone said. “He’s a well-known party crasher.”
Joan joined her guests. She whispered to Stone, “Did I see what’s-his-name?”
“Here and gone,” Stone said, then introduced Bridget to the mayor.
Others approached the mayor, so Stone and Bridget eased away.
“Ah, so we’re manhandling my client into the elevator, now?”
“It was a brief encounter,” Stone said. “He’s barred from the premises.”
“By whom? The late Mr. and Mrs. Charles?”
“By their executor,” Stone replied, as a server delivered fresh drinks. “Do you want to see the TRO?”
“Yes, please.”
“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. It’s in my desk drawer. Besides, the police will already have shot him by now.”
“For what cause?”
“Nothing special. He just brings that out in people.”
A silver bell tinkled, and the crowd began looking for their place cards at one of the many tables awaiting them. Stone located theirs at the table with Joan and the mayor and his wife. Stone was seated between Mrs. Shawn and Joan.
“Thank you so much for ejecting that horrible little man,” the mayor’s wife said.
“You’re very welcome,” Stone said. “And I’ve never heard him described more aptly.”
“He actually pushed his way into our car. The mayor is far too lenient with people like that. He kept telling us that you are his lawyer.”
“You may rest assured,” Stone said, “that that was a bald-faced lie.” She turned to speak to someone else.
Joan nudged him. “I’ve remonstrated with the butler. He was cowed by the presence of the mayor. What did you do with Eddie?”
“He’s being buried on a construction site around the corner. Concrete will be poured.”
“I’m so relieved,” Joan said.
After dinner there was dancing, to the music of Peter Duchin, and Bridget caught up with Stone.