“I forgot to look at my e-mail.”
“What’s wrong with you, boy?”
“Too much sex from too many women,” Dino offered.
“Good God!” Eggers said. “You haven’t been fucking our client’s daughter, have you?”
“No!” Stone said. “I haven’t laid a hand on her.”
“She’s the exception to the rule,” Dino said.
“Because I don’t know how I would explain that to Philip Parsons,” Eggers said.
“Since it’s not happening, you won’t have to explain it,” Stone said, looking up from his glass.
“Well, it’s a relief to hear that you make an exception now and then. Or is Hildy the first?”
“Hildy is not the first,” Stone said emphatically. “I have a normal sex life. Normally.”
Dino burst out laughing, and so did Eggers.
“Are you people here just to torment me?” Stone asked. “Can’t you see I’m in pain?”
“Oh?” Eggers said. “Where does it hurt?”
Dino started laughing again.
“I withdraw the question,” Eggers said. “Can we have some menus?” he said to a passing waiter. “You’ll feel better, Stone, when you get some food into your stomach to keep the bourbon company.”
“I’m not hungry,” Stone said.
“We’re going to have to force-feed him,” Dino said, trying not to laugh.
“Well,” Eggers said, “I didn’t come here to put any pressure on you.”
“Thank you, Bill,” Stone said gratefully.
“Now what the hell is going on with Philip’s daughter and that so-called artist?”
“Gee, thanks for not putting any pressure on me,” Stone said.
“Come on, give me the lowdown.”
“An undercover cop has made a buy from Sharpe, and it’s on tape,” Stone said.
“So he’s in jail?”
“No, not yet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“They want him to do it again, so it’ll be a bigger bust. If he does it twice, maybe he’ll get a longer stretch.”
“How much did he sell the cop?”
“Half a kilo of coke and a pound of grass.”
“Shit, that’ll get him at least ten years, no parole.”
“The legislature repealed the Rockefeller laws, haven’t you heard?”
“Now that you mention it,” Eggers said. “What would he get now?”
“Who knows? There’s a lot of money at stake; somebody might get to a judge.”
“Well, they haven’t repealed greedy judges,” Eggers said. “When is this business going to get wrapped up, so I can return Hildy Parsons to her father intact?”
“Who knows?” Stone said. “But I wouldn’t count on her being intact.”
The waiter came, and they ordered. Stone ordered another bourbon. “Did I mention that Dolce is stalking me?” he asked Dino.
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Wait a minute,” Eggers said, “you’re fucking Eduardo Bianci’s crazy daughter?”
“No, but she wants me to. She sent me two dozen roses, and she’s hanging around outside my house.”
“I thought she was locked in a rubber room in Eduardo’s house,” Dino said.
“Not anymore. She goes out shopping with a minder.”
“Now this is dangerous,” Dino said.
44
STONE OPENED HIS EYES and gazed at the ceiling. It was moving around. He held on to the mattress to steady himself and got his feet on the floor. He barely made it to the bathroom before he knelt at the throne and emptied his stomach.
He lay down on the bathroom floor, pressing his hot cheek against the cool marble. From the bedroom came the sound of Joan buzzing him. He struggled to his feet, splashed cold water on his face, staggered back, sat on the bed, and picked up the phone. “What?”
“You sound awful.”
“What is it?”
“Shall I call an ambulance?”
“Just skip a step and call an undertaker.”
“You’re hungover, aren’t you?”
“The word doesn’t cover it.”
“This ought to help: Tiffany Baldwin is on the phone.”
“Tell her I’m ill and can’t talk.”
“That won’t work; I’ve been on the phone with you for too long.”
Stone pressed the button. “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Tiffany asked.
“No. You can’t wake the dead.”
She laughed. “You have to be in my office in an hour for a meeting.”
“I’m sorry,” Stone said. “I thought you said I have to be in your office in an hour.”
“You have to be in my office in an hour,” she said, “for a meeting.”
“Tiffany, I don’t have any current business with your office. What is this about?”
“We’re all meeting in an hour,” she said. “It’s a strategy session.”
“Can you hold on for just a minute,” he said. He pressed the hold button, ran into the bathroom, and threw up again. He ran some cold water on a facecloth and went back to the phone, swabbing his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and if I did, I wouldn’t come.”
“Your Lieutenant Doyle requested the meeting,” she said.
“He’s not my Lieutenant Doyle; he’s just a cop I know.”
“It’s my understanding that the commissioner has placed you under his command.”
“That’s a lie.”
“That’s not what the commissioner says; I called him.”
“Okay, it’s not a lie; it’s just a perversion of justice.”
“Once again, Stone, be in my office in an hour for this meeting. The commissioner will be here, and if you’re not, he’ll notice.” She hung up.
Stone wanted to collapse into bed again, but he got to his feet and threw himself into a cold shower, regretting it immediately. He shaved, cutting himself twice, struggled into some clothes, and went downstairs. He went into Joan’s office, poured himself a cup of coffee, and began sipping it.
“You were right,” Joan said. “I should have called an undertaker.”
“Too late,” Stone said. “I have to go downtown to the Federal Building.”
“To see Tiffany Baldwin?”
“Among others. She said the commissioner is going to be there, too, but that may have been just to scare me.”
“Did it work?”
“Sure did. I don’t want him messing with my retirement pay.”
“I’m sure that’s beneath him.”
“It’s not beneath Brian Doyle, who hates me because I make more money than he does.”
“I’m sure that’s not the only reason.”
“If I talk about this anymore, I’m going to throw up,” he said.
“Again. Will you drive me downtown? It seems to be raining outside.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, putting on her raincoat.
Stone found his trench coat and an umbrella and followed her to the garage.
MORE THAN slightly damp, Stone stood in the line at the metal detector and waited while a woman emptied her handbag onto a steel table and then put everything back, one item at a time. He was cold from the heavy rain, and his trench coat was soaked, being very old and no longer waterproof.
He emptied his pockets into the tray, put his umbrella on the conveyer belt into the X-ray machine, and passed through the metal detector. Beep. He took off his belt; the large silver buckle must have set it off. Beep.
“Take off your shoes,” the uniformed woman said. “Sometimes it picks up the nails in the heels.”
Stone took off his shoes, put them on the conveyer belt, and stepped through the metal detector again. No beep.
The guard at the X-ray machine pushed his shoes toward him with the back of his hand. “You always wear two different shoes?” he asked.
Stone stared at his shoes. The man was right: one black and one brown. “Only when it’s raining,” he said.
He got his shoes back on over socks that were wet from treading in the pool of water that other people had left behind and went upstairs in the elevator. He found the office and presented himself to a receptionist who reported his presence.
“You may go in,” she said.