“So you’re going to protect her?”
“You can count on it, and let me give you some free advice: The New York Police Department takes a very dim view of a person carrying any sort of weapon on the streets of the city, gun or knife. Anyone caught with a weapon can count on jail time, and you wouldn’t enjoy our penal system.”
“So you’re threatening me?”
“Certainly not. I’m just giving you good advice. Here’s another good piece: Stay away from Carrie. She’s taking out a protection order, barring you from coming within a city block of her. Violate that, and you’ll do jail time. You see, there’ll be lots of opportunities for you to go to jail.”
“Tell her to give me back my money, and I’ll leave her alone,” Long said.
“Ah, now, that’s extortion. Did I mention that I’m recording this conversation?”
“You can’t do that.”
“It’s already done,” Stone said. “Now tell me if you want this package, because I’m tired of talking to you.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Long said.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ ” Stone said. “Tell me, are you always drunk at this hour of the day?”
Long hung up. Stone called Bob Cantor.
“Hello?”
“I’ve just had a phone call from Max Long. Here’s the number.” Stone recited it. “He wouldn’t give up his address, but if it’s his home number you can trace it back. It may be a cell phone, in which case he could still be in the city, and he’s drunk.”
“That prefix is a cell phone,” Cantor said. “If it’s not a throw-away I can get an address for it.”
“He gave me a P.O. box number,” Stone said, giving it to him.
“That’s harder, because it’s federal, but one of my Atlanta contacts might be able to do something.”
“I’ll get Dino to trace the location of the cell phone,” Stone said.
“Anything else?” Cantor asked.
“Not at the moment.” Stone hung up and called Dino.
“Lieutenant Bacchetti.”
“I just got a call from Carrie’s husband, from a cell phone. He may still be in town; will you run the number for a location?” Stone gave him the number.
“I’ll get back to you,” Dino said, then hung up.
Stone shaved, showered, and dressed, then he took the Times down to his study with a second cup of coffee. He had finished reading the paper and was on the crossword when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dino. Your guy was calling from LaGuardia, at a gate that a Delta flight is scheduled to depart from in five minutes. He may have already been on the plane.”
“Thanks, Dino.”
“Dinner?”
“Sure. See you then.” Stone hung up and called Bob Cantor.
“Cantor.”
“Bob, Max Long called from LaGuardia, and he’s apparently on a Delta flight to Atlanta, leaving now.”
“I’ll have somebody pick up on him there and follow him home. You want my guy to say anything to him?”
“You might have him give Long the impression that he’s under constant police surveillance, without using those words.”
“Give me a description.”
“Get that from Carrie,” Stone said. “I’ve never seen the man. I just know that he’s tall and slim.”
“Will do,” Cantor said. He hung up.
Stone went back to the crossword. It was a bitch, as it often was on Saturdays. He was still working on it nearly three hours later when Cantor called back.
“Hello?”
“It’s Cantor. My guy met your guy and imparted your suggestion to him. He’s tailing him now. I ran his license plate, but it’s still registered to the Habersham Road address; he didn’t bother to change it after moving. I’ll call you back when I get an address.”
“Good going,” Stone said. He went to the kitchen, made a ham and mozzarella sandwich on whole grain, toasted it, and brought it back to the study with a Diet Coke. He finished it and was down to the last couple of impossible words on the crossword when Cantor called again.
“Got a pencil?”
“In my hand.”
“Max Long drove to an apartment complex in northeast Atlanta called Cross Creek. Nice place, with a golf course. My guy couldn’t follow him past the guard at the gate, but fifty got him the address: 1010 Cantey Place. His phone is unlisted, but I’ll have it for you later. You want my guy to surveil?”
“For a couple of days.”
“I can put a watch for his name on the Delta reservations computer,” Cantor said.
“Great idea. That’ll give us some notice if he decides to come back, and we can have him met at LaGuardia.”
“Consider it done,” Cantor said. “By the way, Max Long is six-three, two hundred pounds, longish dark hair going gray, broken nose. I’ll do a search for a photo; shouldn’t be hard to come up with one.”
“Sounds like we’ve got the guy just about boxed,” Stone said.
“We’re getting there.”
“Talk to you later.” Stone hung up and attacked the last two words on the crossword. They took another half hour.
9
STONE AND DINO HAD BEEN at Elaine’s just long enough to order a drink, when Carrie came rushing in, flushed and excited. Stone signaled for a drink for her. “You look happy,” he said.
“I feel happy,” she said. “I’ve got two very good solos in the show and one absolute, solid-gold showstopper.”
“I look forward to hearing them,” Stone said.
“Not until opening night; I want you to get the full effect.”
“I’m already getting the full effect,” he replied. Their drinks arrived, and they clinked glasses.
Dino spoke up. “It’s nice to see you both so happy.”
“If you’d had my day,” Carrie said, “you’d be happy, too.”
“I am happy,” Dino said. “Can’t you tell?”
“He always looks dour,” Stone said. “You could know him for years before seeing him smile.”
“Do you have a wife, Dino?” Carrie asked.
“Had. Don’t want another.”
“A girl?”
“Until recently.”
“What happened?”
“I got tired of obeying. Stone and I spent a little time in Key West, and I discovered I didn’t miss her.”
“He smiled more then,” Stone said.
“If I goose him, will he smile?” Carrie asked.
“If you goose me in the right place,” Dino said.
Carrie laughed, a healthy, unrestrained sound. Dino smiled a little.
“There, I knew I could do it,” she said.
“So, do you know your script and score?” Stone asked.
“I will by Monday morning,” she said.
“How’d it go with Bob and the Leahys?”
“Bob showed me how to work the security system, then left with Max’s box to take it to FedEx. The Leahys are sweet and made me feel very safe. They dropped me off here, and I’ve dismissed them until Monday morning.”
“I think we’ve got Max pretty boxed in now,” Stone said, “so you shouldn’t have to worry. I wouldn’t go back to Atlanta any time soon, though, or if you do, don’t tell anybody who might tell him.”
“How long will we have to deal with this?” she asked.
“It could go two ways: Either he’ll mellow with time, like most people, or he’ll obsess about it until he can’t stand it anymore, and then make a move.”
“Knowing Max, it’s going to be the latter,” she said. “He’s the obsessive type, believe me.”
“Then we’ll just have to be ready for him,” Stone said.
“Am I going to have to have bodyguards for long?”
“Hard to say. Cantor and I may feel better about it in a week or ten days, but when the show opens, that’s when we’ll have to watch ourselves.”
“You mean, watch me.”
“Well, yes. In the meantime, I’ll cultivate his dislike for me. I’m already off to a good start, after only one phone conversation.”
“Why?”
“We’ll see if we can deflect him from you to me. By the way, on Monday morning we’re going to get you a protection order from the court and have it served on him in Atlanta.”